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It was an annoyingly warm December afternoon, even for Los Angeles. Alina was scrolling through apps on her phone in hope that her Uber driver wouldn’t pay her any mind, but alas, the older man was the chatty type, speaking over some boy bands’ cover of What Christmas Means to Me that played from the car’s radio.
“You’re probably the fifth person I’ve taken to the airport today and it’s not even one o‘clock,” he said, chuckling. “Headed home for the holidays?”
“Mm hmm,” she murmured, hoping he would get the hint.
He didn’t.
“Got far to go?”
“London,” she said, laying her accent on thick. She’d been working on taming it down her past year in America — it was what the casting directors preferred, she’d been told. What he had told her, among plenty of other comments that came to haunt her in her most vulnerable moments. Her finger moved before she could think better of it, switching from her personal Instagram account to the fake she used for sleuthing purposes. Such as checking up on her ex-fiancé.
There was a new post since the last time she had looked, which she hated to admit wasn’t long ago. But unlike his previous photo, some nondescript snap of a set he was working on, this one hit her like a blow to the gut. A shot of him in front of a Christmas tree. Him and a woman.
“London!” her driver bellowed. “Always wanted to go there.”
Alina couldn’t respond, her eyes zoning in on every detail. The woman was blond, a natural one by the looks of it; thin but not too thin. He’d captioned the photo I couldn’t ask for a better woman to direct with an obnoxious amount of emojis.
He had said that to her too, once.
“Fuck,” she hissed, stuffing her phone into her bag.
“Something wrong, sweetheart?” the driver asked as they pulled into LAX.
Alina shook her head and opened the door.
The man frowned. “I can get you closer to the door—”
“It’s fine,” she said, tugging her bag out of the car behind her. “I like to walk.”
Eleven miserable hours later, she was in the back of another car, but this driver said nothing more than a polite, “Goodmorning,” before leaving her blissfully alone. She was half tempted to give him the address to an inn, not nearly ready to come face to face with her family for the first time since last Christmas. That morning was still burned into her memory. Opening up the ring, crying in front of everyone because she was just so in love. Letting him slip the diamond onto her finger. Packing up all her things and moving across the globe where she didn’t know a soul.
“I’m going to make you a star,” he had promised her, and like a fool, she’d believed him.
“Mum,” she called now as she opened the front door with the key she’d never taken off her set. “Dad, I’m here.”
Her mother was around the corner first, hurrying into the foyer with open arms. “Oh, my baby,” she cooed, hugging her tight. “Look at you, so much sun!” Then, quieter, “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, Mum,” Alina insisted.
Before her mother could prod for more, her father came in with a wide smile, already reaching for her suitcase. “The wayward daughter returns!”
She rolled her eyes. “Nice to see you too, old man.”
This was how it would be, then. Her mother armed with warm hugs and gentle words, her father a pocket full of jokes, all to fight against The Big Sad of her ended engagement. It was bad enough that all the holiday decor was the same as it had been since she was a child, and now it was all ruined, tainted with the memory of last year. The biggest mistake of her life.
Alina spent as much time as she could making small talk with her parents, letting her mother stuff her with fluffy pancakes and ripe fruit, before claiming fatigue and escaping to her childhood bedroom for a nap. She was exhausted, in every sense of the word, and as she let sleep take over, she already dreaded waking up.
“Starkov!” a very drunk Nikolai bellowed as he opened the door to his flat.
Shivering in the cold, Alina gave him the best smile she could muster, then all but pushed him out of the way to get inside. “Warmth,” she sighed, brushing snow out of her hair.
Nikolai snorted. “One trip around the sun in the desert and you can’t tolerate a little snow?”
“LA is not a desert, Nikolai,” she corrected, reluctantly slipping out of her coat and hanging it on the rack. “And I never liked the cold.”
“Details, details,” he muttered, waving her off. “Come, come, let me deliver you to the women and be their shining hero.”
Alina laughed. “How are you already this drunk?”
“Because you’re late.”
Flushed, she shrugged. “Jet lag,” she explained simply.
“Of course,” he muttered, then tugged her into the living room where the others were gathered. To the room, he said, “Look who remembered the little people after all!”
There was a squeal, and all Alina saw was a flash of red hair before Genya was bowling into her, squeezing the little life that remained right out of her. “You said you’d call when you got in!”
“I took a nap,” she said sheepishly. “Gen, I need to breathe.”
Genya just squeezed harder, a protest of the fact that it had been a year since they’d been together last she was sure, before finally letting her go. She was quickly replaced with Zoya’s stern face.
“You could have at least texted. What if you’d been smuggled?”
Alina rolled her eyes. “If I ever work with Liam Neeson, I’m letting him know I personally blame him for the unrealistic traveling expectations Taken has given the loved ones of young women.”
She took in the state of the room then, relieved to see this party was much more of a small gathering. David was there, of course. He gave her a quick wave and a smile from his spot by the fire. Nina and Inej, their paramours unsurprisingly absent, were locked in an intense game of Jenga. She was surprised not to spot Tolya — he was too much of a tree to escape detection — only for him to come in from the kitchen, handing her a mug.
“Spiced cider still your favorite?” he asked, and Alina didn’t feel quite so cold anymore.
There was only one face missing, the face she both dreaded and needed to see most. She held her breath as her eyes swept over the room once more, her heart dipping—
“‘Lina.”
Spinning, a couple drops of hot cider spilled over the side of her mug onto her hand, but she barely noticed the sting. There he was, holding a plate of goodies. Deviled eggs, cubes of cheddar cheese and crackers, sliced strawberries, and the thumbprint cookies made with Zoya’s mum’s famed raspberry jam.
Her tongue chose that moment to abandon her as she took in the sight of him. Mal had never been big on posting photos of himself — his Instagram was the least aesthetic thing she had ever seen, and she loved him for it. They had barely FaceTimed at all over the last year, a fact that was entirely her fault, so this was the best look she’d gotten of him in a year. And he looked good.
He always looked good, of course, but his hair had grown out beautifully. The way the sweater he wore hugged his body was almost sinful. And saints, was he wearing an earring?
“Saved you a couple cookies from these monsters.” Mal was in front of her now, and whatever cologne he was wearing should be the new required scent for all men.
“Thanks,” she finally managed, taking the plate from him.
She had thought — given what had happened last year — that things would be awkward between them now. But alas, Mal always seemed to be the exception to these things.
He smiled, and it took all her strength not to drop everything and crumble into his arms like old times. He took a seat on the floor in front of the tree, and like a moth to the flame, she sat beside him. Picking up one of the cookies, Alina took a bite and sighed. Instead of that donut place, she should have called Zoya’s mum after her breakup and asked for a batch of these delights. She would have paid express international shipping for such a heavenly cookie.
“So you just got in?” Mal asked, watching her with a knowing smile as she shoved the rest of the cookie into her mouth.
“Yup,” she mumbled, cookie crumbs littering the corners of her mouth. “Staying at my parents house.”
“I figured. How’re they doing?”
“Fine,” Alina said, not wanting to elaborate. To admit that she’d done as shitty of a job keeping up with her parents as she had the rest of her loved ones. “How’s your Gran? Still got the upstairs to yourself?”
“Gran’s good,” Mal said, then cleared his throat. “Actually, I got my own flat a few months ago.”
“Oh,” she said softly, feeling like she ought to have known that.
Mal had been her best friend since year three, after all.
And sometimes, in stolen, often drunken, moments, something more.
“All right, you lot,” Nikolai said, and Alina was happy for the interruption. “Now that Hollywood has arrived—” Alina threw a cube of cheese at him, which he impressively caught in his mouth “— let us get a round of Cards going, shall we?”
For an hour, Alina was blissfully, obliviously happy. No thoughts of her ex or the cloud that had hung over her for the last three months. Just warm cider running through her veins, bad Christmas music playing from a speaker, and equally bad humor that had her doubling over with laughter. The cheerful sounds of the people she held dearest in the world, who had let her right back into this warm cocoon despite the distance she’d put between them.
“It’s so good to have you back,” Genya murmured to her more than once, her words sloppier each time as their drinks settled over them like a soft blur.
Everything was perfect until those opening lyrics. It wasn’t the original, so for a moment, she didn’t notice. For a moment, it was just another bad song, and then it was the bad song. Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. It didn’t even matter that it was the Taylor Swift version. But the very next day, you gave it away.
Swallowing, she leaned closer to Zoya, who always had control of the music at these things. “Can you change the song?”
Zoya raised a brow. “I thought this was your favorite.”
“It used to be.”
Realization hit, tugging down the corners of Zoya’s lips. Instead of changing the song, she turned the music off entirely. “Actually,” she said, her voice rising above the murmurs of others, “we should address the elephant in the room.”
“Zoya,” she warned.
But the raven haired woman ignored her. “What happened, Alina? You go off to LA, and suddenly you don’t have time for any of us. I could understand, I guess, if it was all work related. But it wasn’t, everything was about him. And no one has said anything to you about it because of the breakup, which we also know nothing about.”
Nikolai put a hand on Zoya’s shoulder, murmuring something Alina couldn’t make out, but she shrugged him off. “No, no, because I love you, Alina, but you’ve been a shit friend for the past year, and I think we deserve some kind of explanation.”
Frowning, Alina opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Standing, she shook her head. “I . . . need some air.”
Despite the alcohol in her system, she strode through the flat on steady feet. She could hear the murmurs from the others in the living room, but they were easy to tune out with all the buzzing in her head. She hurried out the door, still in the middle of buttoning her coat. Her cheeks were filled with enough heat that she didn’t mind the bite of frosty air.
Alina was halfway down the street, already knowing she wouldn’t go back to the party, when someone called out her name. No, not just someone.
She didn’t stop, but his long legs still caught up to her in no time, taking her hand in his and forcing her to finally pause. Mal frowned as he studied her face.
Alina spoke before he could.
“I can’t go back in there, Mal,” she said, surprising herself with her honesty.
“I know,” he said, voice surprisingly gentle. He paused. “My flat isn’t far.”
It was an innocent suggestion, but her mind was already running to places it shouldn't. Places like his bed, and the warm press of familiar lips.
“Or I could call you a cab home,” he offered. “Just tell me how I can help, ‘Lina.”
She thought of going to her parents’ house, picturing with ease the entryway lined with framed photos, the old stockings hung above the fireplace, Christmas trees in not only the living room, but a smaller one for the kitchen too, just like every year. A million old memories, ruined by just one. She could still remember posing for all the photos, sitting in his lap as she curated which ones to post to her feed, the taste of the expensive celebratory champagne, the smell of cheap cologne. The prickle of his facial hair as he murmured in her ear, “You and me in LA, baby. We’re going to make it ours.” Just one of many broken promises.
Forcing a smile, she met Mal’s eye. “I’d love to see your flat.”
“I need you to know,” Mal said as his lips trailed down the length of her neck, “that this wasn’t my intention inviting you over.”
“Sure it wasn’t,” Alina breathed, grinning.
He squeezed where his hand gripped her waist. “Careful, Starkov. I’ve fucked that cocky attitude right out of you before, don’t think I won’t do it again.”
“You had better do exactly that, or you’re getting coal for Christmas.”
Alina wasn’t sure how they had gotten to this point so quickly.
Mal was right, it hadn’t been a far walk to his flat. She’d stuck close to him, seeking to leech off his warmth. When she had still shivered, he’d wrapped his scarf around her.
Then they’d been at his flat, small but neat, save for the football gear that had been strewn carelessly by the door. Mal had bent quickly to pick it up, murmuring about not expecting guests, but Alina waved him off, picking up his jersey instead and admiring it. He’d made the pros this year — a benchwarmer for now, but still — and guilt stung her over how little she’d paid attention to it all. Especially when she got a look at his bookshelf.
“Mal?” Alina had said, holding up one title in particular. Not just any title. One of her biggest roles — a role that had blessedly no ties to her ex whatsoever — was an adaptation of the novel she held up.
Mal had blushed. “I had read it before the show came out,” he explained, but when Alina raised a brow, he added, “Okay, I read it after you were cast, but still.”
There was a shift then — in the air, in her body. Alina studied him until he finally looked up at her again, until he saw how dark her eyes were, could read the look on her face. “Malyen,” she whispered, and they were familiar enough that that was all it took. He was up, and his lips were on hers.
“Fuck, ‘Lina,” Mal breathed now, one of his hands slipping underneath her sweater, pressing against the bare skin of her back. “I’ve missed you.”
There was no use pretending she didn’t know where this would go, so her hands found the hem of her sweater, pulling it up and over her head. Letting her bra join it on the floor.
Mal took in the revealed skin like it was his first time seeing her, though that was far from the case. He only let his eyes indulge for a moment, and then his mouth was on one of her tits, sucking and biting and swirling his tongue.
“Shit,” she breathed, her head resting against the wall as her eyes closed.
Mal moved from one breast to the other, all the while one hand slipped between her legs, rubbing her over her jeans, turning her into a writhing mess who could barely keep herself standing.
“Please,” Alina whimpered, practically dry humping his hand at this point.
He chuckled darkly, taking the skin of her ear between his teeth before murmuring, “Still so impatient.”
In one effortless swoop, he had her in his arms. Mal was impossibly tall, especially compared to her, and the sudden lift brought on a dizzying rush. But it only lasted for a moment, because just as fast as he’d lifted her, he had her laid out on his bed. Crawling over her, Mal found her lips while his hands made way with the button of her jeans. Settling back, he tugged them down just until they were out of his way. Instead of doing the same with her underwear, he moved like some kind of wild animal and ripped them until she was properly exposed to him.
“Hey, those were expensive!” she whined.
“I’ll buy you a new pair for Christmas,” he said, and then his mouth was on her, and she couldn’t possibly be upset over panties anymore. In fact, she may never wear any ever again, ready at all times for Mal to bend and taste her at his leisure.
There was no need to direct him — he still knew exactly what she liked. Admittedly, no lover she had — man or woman — had learned her body the way Mal had, could make her beg, whimper, and scream the way he did. But of course, he did have the advantage of time.
She still remembered their first kiss, the summer before year ten. Both of them had been nervous, worried everyone else in their grade already had tons of practice. Better for it to happen between each other, get the awkwardness out. Then, the first time they hooked up, years later at a graduation party, both of them drunk on cheap beer. They were off to different universities in a couple months, so why not just try it once? They’d found an empty room in Nikolai’s parents’ giant house, giggling as they fumbled with buttons and straps. But of course, it didn’t happen just once. Without speaking on it, they fell into a pattern — coming home every break and finding their way into each other’s beds again whenever they were both single. Sometimes even, ashamedly, when they weren’t.
Alina came apart with a cry of Mal’s name and a yank on his hair, her orgasam an all encompassing wave that she had needed more than she’d realized, all the tension from her return home snapping along with it. As a result, her bones turned to goo, even as her lungs worked double to get her breathing back to normal. Mal simply chuckled, pressing kisses up the length of her body until he found her lips. She moaned into his mouth, tasting herself on his tongue.
“I love the noises you make when you come,” he murmured, and she felt the vibration of it down her spine.
“I need you naked,” she murmured back, and felt rather than saw his grin.
“Anything for you.”
His sweater was off in a blink, his jeans quickly following. Alina wriggled the rest of the way out of her own. Her eyes raked down his body, taking in the sight of the undeniable bulge in his underwear. Before he could rip those off, too, she cupped him through the thin cotton.
“Shit,” Mal hissed and rocked against her hand.
“So eager,” she teased. She squeezed him once, twice, before releasing her grip. Mal groaned in protest, but there was relief on his face as she tugged down his underwear, his length finally springing free.
“I need,” Mal breathed, the two words all he seemed able to manage. Alina only nodded, because she needed just as badly. Without another word, he opened the drawer on his nightstand, only to curse a moment later. Pulling the box of condoms out, he turned it upside down. Nothing fell out.
“There’s a corner store down the block,” he said, already pulling away. “I can be back in five—”
“Mal,” she said, cutting him off. Pulled him back. “Just fuck me, please.”
He paused, looking down at her, at himself, before cursing and capturing her lips. Not soft like after he’d licked her to orgasm. This kiss was hard, needy. Then, before either of them could change their minds, he lined himself up and plunged inside of her.
They both pulled their lips from each other to release twin moans into the air. For once, they weren’t fucking in secret at a party or in one of their childhood bedrooms, friends or family near. They could be as loud as they wanted, and they were both taking advantage of it.
“Fucking hell, ‘Lina,” he swore. “Always so fucking tight.”
The only response she could manage was a whimper as she clung to him, fingernails leaving half-moon imprints on his back. He was fucking her so hard she was afraid they might break the bed. A worthwhile sacrifice.
Mal, always the dirty talker, had his lips on her ear again. “Tonight, you are mine,” he practically growled. “Hell, the whole time you’re back. Mine, do you understand that? No one else’s.”
“Yours,” Alina managed breathily. Her agreement seemed to flip a switch inside of him. Without warning, she was turned roughly onto her stomach. Mal barely interrupted his pace, slamming back into her with practiced ease. She cried out into his pillow.
Above her, Mal spoke more dizzying, sinful words, each one emphasized with a slap to her ass that stung in the most delicious way. She knew he was close when his rhythm broke, his grip on her hair tightening. But that was fine, because she was close, too.
“Mal,” she whimpered, and he understood. His free hand slithered between them, finding her clit, circling a ruthless rhythm on the swollen nub. She came seconds after, Mal following with a delightful string of curses. It was the first time she’d let someone come inside of her, and the feeling of truly being filled worked another moan out of her.
“Shit,” Mal whispered after they had both caught their breath a little, one finger tracing along her inner thigh where his release had spilled out. She shivered, feeling the ghost of his touch even after he pulled out and settled beside her.
He opened his arms to her, and Alina climbed into the warm embrace, feeling more at home than she had this entire past year. “You’re amazing,” he whispered into her hair, planting a kiss to the top of her head as she snuggled against him. “I’ll buy you Plan B in the morning.”
“My, what a gentleman.”
Together they laughed, and Alina could feel his warm breath brushing the top of her head, blowing little strands of her hair.
A minute or two passed, both of them taking in as much of this moment as they could, knowing it was only another stolen piece of time to add to their collection. Knowing that soon enough, the holidays would be over, Alina would be back in LA, Mal back to football, both of them spinning in their own orbits until they inevitably crashed together again.
“I’m sorry,” Mal said then. Her brows pulled together, confused, until he continued. She felt him swallow. “For what I did, last year. I never got the chance to apologize.”
The memory came in a hot blaze to the front of her brain, fresh and clear despite her attempt to bury it away for the past twelve months.
“I should pee,” Alina said, like the coward she was, and scampered out of Mal’s arms. She barely heard his instructions on where the bathroom was. Once locked away in the little room, she took her time, wishing she had brought her phone. Instead all she had was the room itself to distract her, a further peek into the man Mal had become now that he lived on his own, all the little pieces of him she had missed out on. Naturally, she could only stand it for so long.
As she washed her hands and made the short trip back to the bedroom, she tried to think of something, anything, to say upon returning. Anything to keep from talking about last year. In the corner of her eye, she glimpsed something bright red and knew it was the perfect distraction.
It worked perfectly.
“Fucking hell, Alina,” Mal groaned as she walked back into his bedroom, the face of innocence.
“Hope it’s okay,” she said, rubbing the fabric of his jersey between her fingers, the hem falling a few inches above her knees.
“It should be illegal, actually,” Mal said, his eyes never leaving her body. “Fuck, I’m going to think about this every time I wear it. I’m going to get a bloody boner during games now.”
“Good,” she said, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. When she tried to pull back, Mal stopped her, placing his hand on the back of her neck. His lips found hers, and this kiss was unlike all the others. It wasn’t desperate, but it wasn’t shy, either. Soft, but sure. A kiss she nearly suspected would come with an, I love you.
Instead, Mal pulled her into his arms once more, bringing the covers up around them.
“Goodnight, Alina,” he whispered.
She said it back, but selfishly, she still wanted more.
Alina woke first the next morning. Except, when she looked at her phone, she found it wasn’t morning at all. 12:54 stared back at her as she blinked the sleep out of her eyes. It was Christmas Eve, and she knew her family would be waiting on her. It was one of their traditions, making an array of cookies together the day before Christmas, but all she wanted to do was stay in bed, curled up next to Mal.
Which was exactly why she needed to leave.
Carefully, Alina twisted out of his arms. With a sigh, she slipped his jersey off, setting it down gently on the spot she’d been laying. Finding her clothes was a bit trickier, and she didn’t even bother with her ruined underwear. She was one sock away from fully dressed when Mal stirred, looking around in confusion until his eyes found her.
“Are you leaving?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
Swallowing, she nodded. “I have to get home. For cookies.”
“Right,” he murmured. “Of course.”
For once, the silence between them wasn’t comfortable.
“Alina—” Mal started, but she cut him off.
“It was good seeing you, Mal,” she said, a note of finality in her tone. “Good luck on the season.”
Before she could be talked out of it or, saints forbid, had a look at Mal’s bare chest in the light of day, Alina spun on her heel and left.
Later, as she rolled freshly made peanut butter cookie dough into small balls, her phone buzzed. Mal had sent her thirty five pounds. Google said this should cover the pill, but lmk if u need more. The message was perfunctory, like a business transaction.
As it should be, she told herself, and turned back to the cookies.
Three days later, Alina was back at the airport, luggage rolling behind her. It was, unsurprisingly, completely mad, everyone from business folk to families with screaming babies looking to get back home after Christmas. In the never-ending line for security, she sipped her coffee with one hand and scrolled through social media with the other, liking and commenting on all of her friends’ cute couple posts, even as they made her feel as if a knife was twisting inside of her. It was better, though, than thinking of this time last year.
She’d been alone in line then, too, though only temporarily. Mal had accidentally caught her at the perfect time, her fiancé using the restroom. For a moment, they had only looked at each other, Alina in shock, Mal catching his breath, as if he had run all the way to her.
He hadn’t bothered sugarcoating his words. “Don’t go with him.”
“What?”
“Don’t go to America. Don’t marry him. Stay here,” Mal had said, taking her hand. “Stay with me.” Then, he’d kissed her, and traitorously, she’d kissed him back. Heat had flooded her insides, their undeniable spark alive and well even with the pretty diamond on her finger.
When he pulled away, he took a step back. His eyes pleaded with her even as he remained silent, waiting for her answer. It was like a damn movie.
Then her fiancé returned, raising a brow at Mal’s appearance as he draped an arm around her. “What’s going on?”
But unlike in a movie, nothing had changed.
“Mal just came to say goodbye,” Alina said, forcing a smile.
Mal kept his expression neutral, but his eyes — she could read everything in his eyes, and it was painful. But this was how it had to be. She had made her choice.
“Right,” he’d said, his own smile forced. “Goodbye, Alina.”
The memory felt so fresh, she swore she could hear him calling her name even now.
And then he was there, right in front of her, and Alina thought she might need to look into psychiatric help when she got back to LA.
“I know,” he said before she could. “I’m an absolute fool, trying this again. But if I’m going to be a fool for anyone, it’s you.”
Oh, saints. Not a memory, after all.
“Mal,” she breathed, feeling unsteady on her feet.
“Please, Alina. Just listen for a moment.” Mal took a breath and stepped closer to her. “I’ve tried so hard to find someone that makes me feel a tenth of the way you do. This past year especially, when I thought you were going to marry that idiot, I went on so many dates. So many women who were perfectly fine, but none of them you.” Shaking his head, a smile tugged at his lips. “I think part of me has known since year three that you were it for me. Do you remember what I told our teacher?”
At this, Alina managed a smile. “That you were going to marry me.”
Mal was fully grinning now. “Straw wrapper ring and everything.”
At the mention of a ring, she tensed. If this declaration came with a proposal, she wasn’t sure she’d survive it. But Mal, always so attentive, always knowing, took her hand and squeezed.
“No rings this time. Just me.” He blew out a breath. “And I know, I’m not some fancy director who has all the connections you need. I know London isn’t quite LA in terms of acting jobs, but you can fly out whenever you need to. I can go with you when I’m not playing. I’ll do anything, Alina. Anything, if you just stay.”
Mal took a step back, and it took everything in her not to reach out for him, feeling like she might crumble without him there to keep her standing.
“If it wasn’t clear, I am madly in love with you. I think I have been for my whole life.” He laughed. “I thought I could survive off of our Christmas rendezvous, but I’ve been lying to myself. I need so much more.”
Alina opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Mal let out a shaky breath. “If the answer is no, I understand. I’ll never accost you in an airport — or anywhere else — ever again. I just had to try, one more time, when your hand wasn’t already promised to another’s.”
She thought about her life in LA. Her overpriced shithole of an apartment, the cycling class she attended weekly, her favorite coffee shop that was conveniently on the way. The constant sunshine and heat. The jobs she auditioned for, both in person and via video, the latter becoming more and more common. Those were the things she thought of first. Not her friends there, who were nice, but not fixtures. Not any one person, only things she could have anywhere.
Then there was London. Here, she had her parents. Genya and Zoya, Nikolai and the twins. She could still have an overpriced shithole of an apartment, maybe one that allowed her to get a cat. There were cycling classes here, too. Roles to audition for that didn’t ask her to tame down her accent. Less sun, but maybe she wouldn’t need so much of it when she had the warmth of her loved ones around her.
When she had Mal.
“Well, answer the lad!” an older gentleman bellowed from a few spots back in line, startling her back into the present, and to the fact that they had an audience. Some kid had their phone out, and she groaned internally at the thought of this showing up on TikTok.
But she ignored them all, because nothing was going to influence her answer this time. Nothing but her own heart, which was beating rapidly at the thought of waking up next to her best friend every morning. Thinking of her favorite Christmas song, and the lines that came after the heartbreak. This year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special.
She couldn’t think of someone more special than the boy standing in front of her.
Alina stepped out of line, stepped to Mal, and took his hand.
“Take me home, Mal.”
Behind them, the watchers cheered, though she suspected it was more for one less body in line than for their romance. Still, she kissed him, and it felt as if her own heart was cheering her on for finally getting it right.
“Thank the saints,” Mal murmured after. “Otherwise I don’t know what I’d do with your present.”
Alina raised a brow. “My present?”
“Mm hmm.” Mal grinned. “I remember promising a replacement for something I’d accidentally ripped a hole in. Though I can’t say the new pair’s coverage is any better than the ruined one.”
Flushed and ready to take him in the middle of the damn airport, Alina tugged him forward like a little kid eager to open their presents on Christmas morning, utterly impatient. Mal laughed and slowed her down before she ended up tripping the two of them.
“Easy there,” he murmured, loud enough only for her. “We have all the time in the world.”
And for the first time ever, it was true.