"Ehem," I wake to the sound of my dad dramatically clearing his throat to get my attention. My eyes peel open, and I simply stare back waiting for him to speak. He puts his arms out in confusion, "don't you want to see what your old man got you?"

I heavily breathe out, "okay."

He waves me over to follow him out into the living room. We have this mini Christmas tree that we bought pre-decorated from some drug store 6 years ago. I don't understand why we even bother to take it out of the closet.

I grab one of the poorly wrapped presents from around it and lift it up with an insincere smile.

My dad stands proudly beside me as I tear off the wrapping paper.

"Oh...car fresheners?"

"Pineapple," he nods.

"That's great."

"Come on, open another one," My dad nudges me. I sigh but oblige reluctantly by picking up the small rectangular box that was closest to me. He chuckles as I open it.

"You bought me condoms," I raise an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not clueless as to what you youngins are up to these days. I just want you to be safe about it. You know what happens when you're not safe, right?"

I roll my eyes, "Yeah, dad. I saw 'Kids' too, remember?"

"That's not all, Danny. What do you suppose you'd do if you got that girl of yours pregnant? You would have to work every day of your natural-born life to keep that kid fed. It's not easy, you know?"

"Well, you sure did a stand-up job at it," I say sarcastically.

"You bet your ass, I did," he practically pats himself on the back. "Now, open the last one."

"What'd you get me...soda?" I ask as I analyze the shape and size of what looks to be a 12-pack of canned soda.

"No," he smirks with his arms crossed.

"...beer?"

"All for yourself. So, you can stop stealing mine."

"There's always some here, might as well enjoy it," I respond irritatedly.

"What do you say I make us some cocoa, and we watch a few specials on tv, huh?" He ignores my remark and changes the subject. He always does that when someone mentions his drinking habits.

"That doesn't sound bad..." I reply distrustfully.

He grins and starts to laugh, "when you were little, you used to love those peanuts cartoons. You were snoopy for three Halloweens in a row."

"Yeah...well, I thought I'd have to shave my head to be Charlie Brown," I say with a small smile.

"I know," he snickers, "I caught you looking at the razor in the bathroom and decided to hide it after that day. But, I'm glad you thought being a dog was somehow easier done."

"That's me," I nod, "always taking the easy way out."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," he nudged my shoulder. "We always get to where we're going. It's in our blood."

"Bad blood, then," I mutter to myself as he wanders off somewhere else.

"So, should I take out the marshmallows?"

"Uh..." I look toward where he went in the kitchen. I hear him start to cough as if he's choking. It's something his body does whenever he's about to drink or even thinks about drinking. I picked up on that sign pretty quickly. "No, I'll probably just go out."

"Out? It's Christmas."

"If you don't care, why should I?" I say rhetorically and head over to the phone.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I pretend not to hear him as I put the phone up to my ear. I can't really think of anyone whose day wouldn't be ruined if I showed up. Mariana and Kevin are giving the engagement news to his family today, and I told Val that I would be fine if she went to Florida with Cherry and the Marshalls. Matt and his folks are going through enough right now...and I spend too much time with Leo. Angela's family is loaded, so Jordan went with her for the holidays. I don't have many options here— but

"Look, if you're selling something— I don't have any money, so-"

"Mandy, get caller I.D. or something, this is Danny."

"Oh, hey," she says enthusiastically.

"So, what's happening over there? I might drop by."

"You can if you want, but I won't be here. My coworker Lucy called out today even though she said she'd be fine to work, so now they're asking me to come in. I only said 'yes,' because they're paying me double-"

"Alright, Amanda, I get it."

"You can still come over. Kat is here."

"Oh, yeah?" I stop myself from sounding too excited. "Kat?"

"You don't look very festive."

"It's just a day like any other," Elizabeth sighs.

"That's the spirit," I smirk.

"So, what do you want me to do first?"

I sigh and begin to think, "I'm sure there's a nice film on. Sit here and watch it's a wonderful life or something."

"Why?"

"Because it's more productive than questioning me." I hand her the remote, "here, take this. I'm going to shower, and in about 5 minutes my mother will bring up breakfast. Eat some and try not to sulk too much, okay?"

"I don't understand. You consider this working?"

I ignore her and continue heading into my bathroom, "Merry Christmas, Elizabeth."

I enjoy how genuinely confused she seems. Like she really expected me to give her a hard time today.

I feel charitable almost. As though I'm the new toys for tots foundation. I made her come here so she wouldn't feel like I was doing her any favors. It was the only way she wouldn't be alone.

Perhaps good deeds such as this one are what I need to be put back in balance with the universe. My karma has been off lately.

I turn the nozzle in the shower and let the water pour down while the room begins to steam up.

Normally, I'd take a bath on a day like this. Soaking helps me relax. It's what I did the night before a match when I still played lacrosse, and it's what I do when I have a hectic day ahead of me. However, since Elizabeth is bound to get antsy waiting for me, I'll have to settle for a quick— far less relaxing shower.

Or...

The water runs down my body, and my hands chase it past my abdomen.

"I shouldn't," I think to myself.

And yet...I don't stop my fingers from wrapping around my dick.

My thumb swirled around the tip, and I inhaled sharply at the sensation it caused.

The hesitation in me slipped away as I slowly picked up the pace, twisting and moving one hand while I used the other to squeeze out soap onto myself.

I groaned quietly and started to thrust into my hand, the slick, sudsy feeling taking me to the point of no return.

I tried to keep the curses and escaped moans to a minimum...who knows if I can be heard behind that door? Though...the closer I got, the less I cared.

My labored breaths and the thick steam fill the room as my hand strokes back and forth almost teasingly. I throw my head back, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. It's a wonder I do anything other than this to relieve stress.

I feel the tension start building up in my stomach.

I hum and mutter out a "fuck" as I'm seconds away from coming undone right here in the shower.

"Ethan?" Liz knocks on the door.

I huff, "I'm kind of busy now, Elizabeth."

"The food is getting cold."

"I'll be right out," I sigh.

I contemplate finishing where I left off, but I better not...

I'll have to build again, and she'll be practically counting the minutes I stay in here.

I turn the knob until the water stops falling and then I step out and wrap a towel around my waist.

Elizabeth is sitting on my bed with a tray of food.

"You know, not even I eat on my bed," I scold.

"Sorry," she moves to get up.

"And you interrupted me for french toast?" I continue as I head over to my dresser, "that was made for you."

"Oh..." she says in surprise.

I nod with my back to her and sift through my drawers for something to wear.

Silence passes for a while, and I assume she is distracted by the television or her plate— that is until I hear her quietly laughing to herself.

"What is it, Elizabeth?"

"Do you normally shower for such a long time?"

I turn to see the smirk on her face.

"Eat your breakfast."

Maybe I'm crazy, but I swear her eyes lit up when she saw me.

"You came!" Heather says happily.

I chuckle at her excitement, "I promised, didn't I?"

I almost stumble backward when she suddenly wraps her arms around me, but I don't, instead, my arms wrap around her body and hold her close.

"Merry Christmas," she says against my chest.

"Yeah, it's a pretty good one, butterfly."

"I hope your mother's not upset that I've stolen you away."

"Of course not. She wanted me to come here and spread the Christmas joy or whatever," I reply. "Besides, she went to visit this lady from the bakery."

"Oh, good," Heather turns away and grabs my hands to lead me through her house. "Show me how to make cookies then."

"Sure thing," I smile.

"I bought all kinds of things to bake with and two different brands of chocolate chips."

"I can't believe you've never done this before," I say as we enter the kitchen.

"Well, there's always been someone to cook for me," she admits.

"Then what's the point of this insane kitchen?" It's like my living room and bedroom combined.

"It's for show," Heather replies, "like everything else in this house."

"You?"

She smirks, "well, that depends."

"Oh?" I say in amusement.

"Don't seem so surprised," Heather replies.

"I'm not." She raises her eyebrows as to challenge me. "I see you, Heather."

"And what exactly do you see?" She moves closer to me, her eyes exposing her intention.

I chuckle at her coquettish glances, "we're making cookies, butterfly."

"It's all business with you, isn't it?" Heather playfully rolls her eyes.

"Exactly," I say with a smile before helping her gather the ingredients onto the island counter in the middle of the kitchen.

"What should I put the oven on?"

"350," I shrug. "How many do you want to make?"

"Um...twelve for us, and twelve to give away."

"You know, you could give away store-bought cookies. It'd be less of an effort."

"Yes," she nods, "But I want people to know that I can do it myself."

I raise a skeptical eyebrow, "yourself?"

"After you show me..." she adds.

"Nah— you don't need me," I admit, "there's recipes on the back of those chocolate chips you grabbed."

"I noticed...but a promise meant that you had a reason to come over again."

I fondly gaze down at her, "...Heather, I wouldn't mind if you just called and told me to come over."

"Well, then you'd get tired of me."

I scoff through laughter, "I doubt that...besides, I don't even have you yet."

"Yet?" She raises her eyebrows.

I smirk at her, "Pour three cups of this," I say as I hand her the flour.

She gives me a sly look as she takes the bag from me, but proceeds to pour it into the measuring cup without asking anything else.

It's funny to think that she stayed home and waited for me because we're going to be in this limbo stage forever...despite the expectations we set for one another.

I catch her stealing glimpses of me when I start mixing the sugar, butter, and eggs together with some vanilla.

"What do you want, butterfly?" I ask in amusement.

"Nothing," Heather looks away shyly.

"Come here."

She walks up to me, and I take the flour from her hands and pour it into the bowl with the other ingredients. It creates a mountain on top because I purposely chose not to stir it in like I was meant to.

I grab a pinch full of the flour and toss it at Heather.

"Leo!" She says in shock and tries to wipe away the flour that covered her nose and mouth all the way down to her chin.

I start laughing immediately at the sight of her before stirring the mix in the bowl so she couldn't get me back.

"Hey-" I warn when she grabs the entire bag of flour, "that's a bad idea. You're going to make a mess."

"Yeah?" She says rhetorically before taking a handful and throwing it at me.

"Heather..." I gasp out in surprise, and she stares back at me proudly.

"There, we're even"

"This isn't even close to being even."

"I think it is..." She backs away from me when I start walking up to her.

"You know it's not," I say deviously.

We begin to circle the island, and she starts walking faster. "What happened to being all business?"

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

"Leo..." She stops and puts her arms out to keep me at a distance. "You win, okay?"

"Okay," I nod and shrug.

"...Good," Heather says cautiously and reluctantly moves to turn away from me— but I quickly grab her in my arms before she could get far. She shrieks when I hold her pressed to me using one arm and scoop up flour in my free hand. "Leo, no!" She pleads for me not to, but within seconds I'm coating her clothes in flour. "Ugh!" Heather brushes it off once I let her go. We face each other...both complete messes at this point.

"Now, we're ev-"

I stop speaking when she drags her flour-covered hands across my face.

She laughs arrogantly, obviously satisfied with what she's done.

But...if that's how she wants it—

I pick her up by the waist and place her down on the counter away from everything. My hands drag up her legs before resting on her thighs.

Her eyes seem stuck on me, and I can tell she's growing impatient by the way she starts gripping my shirt and pulling me toward her.

The cookies and the spilled flour...are just going to have to fucking wait.

I leave white fingerprints on her stockings because my hands wander when I begin kissing her.

The faint taste of flour disappears quickly, and I feel Heather tightening her grip on my shirt as if she wants it off.

In that case...

I raise her dress up high enough to easily reach the hem of the mesh nylon. She smirks against my lips...so, I start pulling them down.

"Is this okay?" I say lowly.

Heather responds by putting her hands over mine to help guide the stockings off of her body. When they're low enough, I pull the thin material from around her feet and let them fall to the floor.

Her arms hook behind my neck, and I bring her closer to me before tracing my fingers up to slide her panties down as well. 'You're not my girlfriend,' doesn't mean what it's supposed to with us. And, I love how intense it feels every time she kisses me...like we could drown in each other.

"Wait-" Heather stops me before I could get her underwear off. "Did you hear something?" she looks toward the door of the kitchen.

"I don't think-"

The door opens, and Heather fixes her dress immediately so that she is completely covered.

Her parents walk in unsuspectingly, chatting about showing up empty-handed, but all talking seizes when they see us.

"Hm," Mrs. Blakely purses her lips as she scrutinizes the state of the kitchen.

"What's all this?" Her dad asks and shoots daggers at me.

Suddenly, I'm very aware of where my hands are on his daughter. I awkwardly take them off of her and shove them in my pockets.

"I can explain," Heather jumps down from the counter.

"I'm sure," Mrs. Blakely seethes, "may we speak to you for a moment?"

"...If you must," Heather sighs.

Her mother nods before turning to leave us in the kitchen. Mr. Blakely helped lead her out as if she would have a heart attack if she stayed any longer.

"My bad..." I say apologetically, "there's no chance in hell they'll like me now."

"Leo," she says softly and looks into my eyes. "They're always going to give you a hard time...almost everyone I know will always give you a hard time."

"I don't care."

"How can you be so sure when you say that?"

"Because...I know one day you'll be more than the girl my hands are all over."

"I will." I can tell she meant to phrase it as a question, but it sounded more affirming.

I'm okay with baby steps, butterfly.

"And I'll like that girl way too much to care."