A Holiday Wish

by Michelle Birkelund

The holidays have a way of bringing people together in unexpected ways. 

This story is part of The Manuscript Editor’s Holiday Romance Contest, where writers are challenged to explore romantic connections through a seasonal lens. Each entry brings its own interpretation of what a holiday romance can be.

Take your time reading. Let the story unfold. And if it resonates with you, don’t forget to show your support.

Note: This story has not yet been proofread.

Neither of us accounted for the joy our parents would exude the moment we announced our ‘relationship’ before this year’s holiday ski trip. Nor did we consider any other changes we would have to deal with.

First, there’s the seating on the flight to Sweden, which has me pressed to Simon’s side for the entire duration. It’s irrelevant that I had perhaps one of the best naps in my life, cuddling on his shoulder with his ridiculously strong arm around my shoulders. Completely irrelevant.

Our second obstacle is the room assignment in this year’s winter cabin.

Simon’s duffel thumps on the floor, emitting a soft plopping sound as we’re faced with our room. Because, of course, as a couple in a supposedly committed relationship, why shouldn’t we share a room? With only one bed.

“This is-“

“Not ideal,” I finish, breathing heavily as I adjust the grip on my luggage. We continue to stare at the bed until boisterous cheers from the other end of the cabin rouse us to do something. “I guess we could, I don’t know…” I trail off, because I have no idea what we could. It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before, but that was years ago, when we were children. Things were different.

“Let’s just unpack, and we can sort it out later,” Simon suggests, and with no better alternative, that’s what we do. Of course, unpacking to Simon means dumping his duffel bag on the chair in the corner with a satisfied grunt, while I meticulously hang my clothes on the hangers in the closet. Thankfully, he leaves me to it, saying something about wanting to check his snowboard made it in one piece.

The next time I see him, he’s holding a chair out for me. Somehow, I doubt he’s the one who seated us next to each other, even if we’re supposed to be madly in love. That doesn’t mean two people can’t sit on opposite sides of a table. I sigh through my nose, present a lovely smile and let Simon help me to my seat. Next to him.

His brothers, Sebastian and Stefan, are next to their partners, who both look equally comfortable and entertained. My younger sister is too busy to answer any questions with her phone next to her plate. 

When Simon scoots his chair even closer to mine, Mum stifles a sound between her cinched lips. I roll my eyes. The heat of Simon’s body is another surprise I hadn’t anticipated enjoying as much as I do. Or maybe I just acclimated to it very quickly due to the flight here. It reminds me of the tight hugs he used to give when we were younger.

We make it almost to the end of the meal before Stefan throws a random comment across the table.

“Is it weird that it took years of jokes for you to take the hint and finally hook up?” He says it as casually as he’s passing the breadbasket to his partner, Evan, who hastily passes it on. Instead of dropping my fork, I clutch it so tight that my knuckles turn white.

“Stefan,” Diana, Simon’s mother, chastises, although her eyes betray her. She’s absolutely delighted about this situation. Simon clears his throat next to me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch him drain the last of his wine before he glances my way. His plate is empty, and I recognise it for the potential rescue it is before this conversation gets out of hand. He clears his throat again.

“Right, well, I think Maddy and I will retire early. We want to be ready for the slopes tomorrow, right?” His chair screeches across the floor when he gets up. Silverware and glasses make an awful lot of noise as I scramble to my feet as well. Simon wraps an arm around my waist. I hope I hide my surprise from his touch, which jolts through my body. I don’t hate it.

“Right,” I confirm, smiling awkwardly at being this close to Simon. My skin still tingles from his hold on me when he continues.

“We will see you all tomorrow morning for breakfast. I’m going to make sure Maddy is well rested with one of her favourite books. Thanks for dinner, Mum and Karen. Come on, Maddy.” He faces me, smiling crookedly. Somehow, it makes my pulse quicken. It doesn’t help when he blinks, and his eyes dart across my face, unable to land anywhere specific. I try to stop it, but with his fingers idly stroking across my hip, it’s no use. We’ve never been this close before intentionally. It’s strangely normal, unless you account for my elevated pulse, which seems to want to set a new record.

When Simon blinks again, he leans in. I forget how to breathe. It happens faster than I ever would’ve expected. I must’ve closed my eyes at some point, because the next sensation I register is the gentle press of Simon’s lips against my cheek. His breath is warm right before his mouth is on me. His lips are warm, too. It doesn’t last for more than two seconds, but it feels like the world upends itself in those two seconds. He doesn’t pull back right away, though. It’s not like he can when I’ve leaned in for that soft kiss pressed to my cheek. I angle my head back to normal, but Simon’s nose lingers by my side, exhaling a shuddering breath against me, which unsettles my insides. 

“Aw, isn’t that sweet, Karen? Just look at them,” Diana coos from the other side of the table, her wineglass forgotten. She and my mother are all golden smiles and bright eyes at the sight of Simon and me. I swallow that lump that seems to have formed in my throat and attempt a simpering smile for Simon. His lips tug up on one side, his eyes tracking every inch of my face in another couple of seconds. He nudges me away from the table. Every set of prying eyes that burns into me. He doesn’t remove his hand from my waist until we’re back in our room. Once he shuts the door behind us, he slides his palm to my back between my shoulders, rubbing in a smooth and comforting circular motion that helps me breathe again.

It’s still too early for bed, even after a long day like this. My mind is too jumbled to stay sane with my family; I need the quiet. Thankfully, Simon remains silent as I pull the covers from the bed and begin the search for covers and blankets in the closets. He watches me wearily before offering his help.

Fortunately, the bed is wide enough to fit us and still leave some space in the middle. It’s a small comfort before I drift off to sleep with Simon’s steady breathing next to me.

The first couple of days at the cabin go smoothly. As everyone gets used to having breakfast before heading to the slopes, we hardly see much of each other during the day, and Simon and I get fewer comments. Simon snowboards with his brothers and Stefan’s partner almost the entire day. While I’m sure they tease him in all sorts of ways about his new ‘relationship’ with me, he never mentions anything. As for me, I spend my mornings skiing, chatting with our mothers and Sebastian’s wife until I can escape to read. It’s a daily struggle not to fall or hurt myself on my skis, so I’m always very happy to retreat to the cabin with a hot cup of tea and one of my books after lunch. After kissing my cheek the first night, Simon has done the same every day at lunch before I return to the cabin. And every evening before we go back to our room. It doesn’t fluster me as much as it did the first night, but it’s still odd. It’s odd in a way I enjoy. Odd in the way that it’s only taken us a couple of days to get used to his small gestures of affection, which I gather he does to reassure his family of our relationship. I don’t even notice the many whispered comments between our mothers anymore.

It’s the middle of the night before Christmas morning, when I suddenly wake up feeling cold. Even with my numerous amounts of blankets, my nose is cold. Even from his side of the bed, Simon brings a delicious amount of heat to bed every night that seeps over to my side. But when I turn over in the darkness, his side of the bed is empty. It’s only a little after midnight. He mentioned he and his brothers wanted to indulge in an extra drink or two the night before Christmas.

I rub my eyes, suddenly wide awake. After several minutes of questioning myself, I decide to warm some chocolate milk to calm down and hopefully return to sleep. 

Tip-toeing to the kitchen, I almost make it until I hear their unmistakable voices drifting through the cabin. Simon’s rumbling chuckle echoes in my chest. I clutch my robe tighter. A shiver passes through me even though it’s not cold.

“…you get her to say yes?” Sebastian’s deep voice rumbles across the hall, freezing me in place. The kitchen is dark, but if I move any closer, they will still see my shadow across the floor from the lights in the den where they are. I stiffen as I listen more carefully. A glass is set down on the glass coffee table, and the clinking sounds are almost too loud. Someone slides something across the surface. I imagine it’s Stefan’s partner who’s offering coasters to the others.

“What do you mean?” Simon sounds a little offended. “I asked her out, we went on a date, and now we’re here.” An audible swallow follows this statement. I bite the inside of my cheek. We never discussed how we would explain how we got together. I inch myself a little closer, curiosity overpowering me. 

“That’s not what I meant. You’ve been pining for Maddy for years,” Sebastian comments the observation like it doesn’t almost urge me to enter the room and ask what the hell he means by it. A deafening silence follows, and something inside me ignites. “What prompted you to finally ask her to give your sorry arse a chance?”

I’m so close that I’m sure if they were to turn around, they would spot me. I know I should turn around and go to bed, but something at the back of my mind tells me that I need to hear this. I need to hear the lie Simon will use to convince his brothers about all of this. I need to make sure that it is all a lie.

Right?

Fabrics shuffle against each other, and I easily imagine Simon shifting nervously in his seat.

“Well, if you must know,” he begins.

“We must,” Stefan interjects brightly. 

“Right, well. It’s like you said, Bass, I guess I got tired of waiting for her to see things for what they are. So, I asked her, she said no at first, of course.”

I have to cover my mouth with my hand, because I definitely would have. 

“So, I, uh, told her… that I like her. A lot. Not all of it, just enough to convince her to give me a chance. A chance to hopefully tell her the rest another day, because I really don’t want to mess this up and scare her off. This week is-“ He sighs. I blink, trying to uncover the lies in his words. “You know what Maddy’s like. Can you please lay off her a little? All of this is too much for her. I can’t risk this chance.” His voice breaks off on the last words. I hurry to wipe the single tear from my cheek before I rush back to our room. 

An hour later, I’m still wide awake but pretend not to be when Simon climbs into bed. His sigh is one of content, when he rolls onto his side so he’s facing me. I force myself to keep my eyes closed and my breathing even, but it’s a struggle when I feel the faint brush of Simon’s fingers against my temple. He pushes a strand of my hair away from my forehead. Then he brushes his fingers across my cheek and jawline, lingering with each stroke of his knuckles. A different heat seeps into my body. I clutch my blankets even tighter to keep from trembling.

Simon rests his hand in the crook of my waist, and then he drifts off to sleep, while it eludes me for several hours.

Christmas morning is a chaotic mess of glee that permeates the air and is stirred in with every cup of coffee or tea. Anticipation, for what I can’t determine, builds in my gut when I wake up to an empty bed, but warmth from Simon’s hand still lingers on my waist. I run my palm over the spot, ignoring the voice at the back of my head that’s begun to be louder and louder during the past couple of days.

Mum and Diana look ecstatic when they corner Simon and me with a wrapped present for each of us. Looking around the place, I have a worrying suspicion about what these are.

Sure enough, once the paper is discarded, Simon and I each display a jumper. Both are a deep red with a bright green Christmas tree on the front with a star on top. There’s a little button in the white collar, which makes the star on the tree light up. Written out with glittering tinsel, it reads, ‘Kiss for a holiday wish.’

I choke on a laugh until Mum and Diana insist we go change. With no other choice, we do so, returning to join the crowd of other couples in matching jumpers. Sebastian and his wife are dressed in green jumpers with a red-nosed reindeer on them. Stefan and his partner wear their navy jumpers with snowflakes in simple patterns with pride. My parents and Simon’s parents wear the same set as they scurry around the den with food and presents for everyone. My sister still has her jumper from last year. I packed mine, thinking we would need it for the usual picture. I had forgotten that our parents buy new ones as soon as anyone shows any sign of romantic commitment. Simon steps closer to me, his arm automatically landing around my waist again.

I don’t mind it as much anymore.

Dad interrupts breakfast and presents with his usual demand for our holiday picture. 

It takes a great deal longer for him to pose everyone to his liking. After a lot of frowning and grumbling, while the rest of us munch on pieces of toast until he snatches them out of our hands, he’s ready for the picture.

“No, something’s not working,” he says from behind his camera on its trusty tripod. “Let me just try…” he continues to mumble to himself as he grabs each of us and moves us around like his private little puppet show. Eventually, I’m forced to sit on Simon’s lap with his arms around my middle. He stiffens under me at first, but with his arms around me, he relaxes faster than I do. “There we are!” Dad announces happily.

The next couple of minutes are a mixture of pleasant awkwardness as Dad clicks his clicker and the flash blinds us one after another. After more than a dozen flashes, Mum declares it’s enough, and we move on to more presents and more food. Except Simon doesn’t release me; instead, he tugs me tighter. 

“Sorry, just- one more second, Maddy,” he whispers. He sounds bruised, but I know he’s not fallen once on his snowboard. I turn to brush the hair from his forehead, observing him. A new feeling settles in me. I blame it on this time of year (and possibly our jumpers) for what I do next. Simon looks so broken for someone who’s supposed to be madly in love, and I’ve come to realise that I don’t like it when he looks like this. I’ve realised there are many things I prefer about Simon; his smile is just one of them.

So, telling my heart to calm down, I cup one hand to his cheek and tilt his face up, studying his creased eyebrows and tense jaw. I stroke my thumb across his brow, smoothing his skin. His arms ease their hold on me.

“Happy Christmas, Simon,” I whisper before I dip my chin and press a kiss to his mouth. His fingers dig into my sides, holding me as if he’s worried I might escape. With his hands wrapped over my waist, I realise I don’t want to escape. Highly aware of the rest of our families around us, I let the kiss linger for what it could be. An opening for the truth he’s never told me. A possibility for us to share a new truth of new feelings. A potential for more if we dare to face whatever this might turn into. 

Somehow, I don’t mind that our mothers might have force-fed us this outcome. As it turns out, I quite like having Simon this close, with his fingers slipping under the hemline of my jumper to stroke idle circles on my hipbone. 

“A holiday wish,” Simon rasps when I trace a knuckle along his jaw, pulling forth a smile I’ve never seen before.

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