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It was after Thanksgiving, which meant, for Ava Silva, it was time for extra smiles. Her shopping was done (online, she had dared the Black Friday rush once since regaining the use of her legs, and that was one time too many). Gift wrapping itself she intended to leave to the last minute. But it was time for holiday cheer, a time when no one could argue anymore that it was too early for Christmas music, and people who had families would go home to see them, and people treated each other with the decency and respect that they ought to use the rest of the year. But most of all, it was time for smiles.
“Bea!”
For Beatrice, at least, Ava had no extra smiles. She always used the maximum amount possible. One at a time, technically, but she made it count. And generally got more than her share in return. More than anyone else, at any rate, not that Ava was counting.
Correction: she was counting.
“Ava!” Beatrice, who had most certainly not been smiling a moment before, smiled at Ava and waved her over. Beatrice was sitting with Mary, Camila, Shannon, and Dora just inside the restaurant; Ava was the last to arrive for Sunday brunch.
Ava considered the logistics of tackling Beatrice for a hug. Ava was using a cane today, but her numbness and nerve pain weren’t too bad… But before Ava could talk herself into something painful and risky, Beatrice rose and wrapped her up. It would not have been the first or second time Ava risked some pain for closeness to Beatrice, and Beatrice had apparently learned how to spot the warning signs. Her quota for physical contact with Beatrice momentarily satisfied, Ava sat down and ripped a band-aid off.
“Happy soon-to-be Holidays everyone! Lilith said she’s sorry she can’t make it today, but she sends her most loving death glare.” The joke mostly landed, though Camila’s smile dimmed a bit. Dora smirked and rolled her eyes. “So! What’s everyone having?”
The group chatted a bit before making their way back to the danger zone. Food orders, easy. What’s going on at work was always a strong play, Shannon was up for promotion, Mary looking for something new, Camila’s boss was incompetent…actually, most of their bosses were incompetent. Personal lives were mostly off the table, what with the whole Lilith situation, and Mary and Shannon both wanting to surprise the other with a proposal. Those, of course, were the good options, since they didn’t involve anyone teasing her or Beatrice about each other. That left either a surprise topic, or the holidays.
Ava doubted most of her friends realized how much thought she put into social interactions. In retrospect, it was probably a defense mechanism. When you’re stuck in a bed surrounded by adults who hate you and maybe some of them kinda sorta wish you were dead, it’s pretty important to be able to judge the mood of the people around you. And, ideally, manipulate it. For example, if she knew there was a topic of conversation she wanted to avoid, it didn’t do any good to talk around it. The best thing to do, in Ava’s experience, was to introduce the topic herself, and control the flow of the conversation.
“So,” Ava began, “is everyone looking forward to the holidays? Who's got their office party coming up first?” Ava noticed Beatrice straighten in her chair, and wondered what she had said wrong.
Camila raised her hand. “Literally Wednesday. Midday, which should mean we’re getting out of work early, but actually means this asshole is going to ban alcohol and have us go back to the office.”
Murmurs of sympathy flowed around the table, except for Dora. “I told you, you need to get out of there. They don’t appreciate you, and you could literally have your pick if you get your resume out there.”
But Ava wasn’t really paying attention to that, even though she agreed that Camila should have quit that job months ago. “Bea? What about you?”
Beatrice smiled, but it was plastic, not like it was supposed to be. Not like when she first saw Ava walk into the room. “Oh, the kids will do their Christmas assembly for the parents, we might go out for drinks on the last half-day, but mostly I’ll just be making sure to get report cards out. Honestly, I don’t miss office holiday parties at all. What about you, Shannon?”
Ava let the conversation flow from there to nice safe places, but she kept her eye on Beatrice. Something was off, and she was going to figure out what it was.
****
Beatrice knocked on the door to Ava’s apartment and waited. She considered, not for the first time, that she was making an error. A holiday faux pas. She had texted in advance to let Ava know she was coming by early to drop off her gift, rather than exchanging them at Mary’s party as was customary, but had gotten no response. Perhaps Ava had left early as well? Or was out doing some last minute holiday shopping, foolish as that might seem on the Saturday before Christmas? The gift was rather heavy, and arguably excessive, but it was something she knew Ava wanted, and Beatrice had found herself hard-pressed to deny Ava anything.
That, of course, carried with it separate burdens, such as the inevitable conversions, perhaps most of all with Lilith.
“I'm sorry, do you understand how ridiculous it is to spend that much money on a friend?” Lilith would lead with.
“Best friend,” Beatrice would correct her, of course.
“That amount of money is not ‘best friend' money. That's not even ‘I'm desperate and lonely’ money. That is ‘I'm hopelessly in love with you please please please notice me’ money.”
Beatrice would have to respond carefully, given that Lilith would be correct in such an accusation. Though Beatrice had known Ava for a little over five years, she had made the twin mistakes of assuming Ava would never be interested and then entering a relationship her childhood sweetheart, on whom she had wasted the better part of four years. Her pining for Ava had resumed almost immediately upon the collapse of that relationship, which brought Beatrice back to Lilith's comment. Deflection, perhaps. “Where is this coming from? Are you concerned you didn't spend enough on Camila’s gift this year? Or worse, last year?” A low blow, to be sure, but all's fair, et cetera, et cetera.
Beatrice felt quite sure she could manage a confrontation with Lilith from there, which was fortunate, as Ava opened the door before she could plan the conversation further.
“Bea?” Ava was wearing a white silk bathrobe that, while not precisely see-through, fell upon Ava's skin in a way that left little to the imagination.
Beatrice brought her eyes back up to Ava's face and hoped her blush was not too visible in the hallway light. “Ava! I'm sorry to intrude, I messaged you, I just wanted to drop off your Christmas gift on the way to Lilith's party.”
Ava shook her head as though processing. “Oh, yeah, sure, come on in.” Ava stepped aside for Beatrice to enter, then closed the door behind her. “I was just drying my hair, can I get you anything?”
Beatrice shook her head. “No, and sorry to intrude, again, I'll just put this under your tree and….”
There was no tree. No tinsel, no mistletoe. No holly, no wreath on the front door. Ava's walls were covered by the usual art and framed photos Ava had made or taken of the places she had been and things she had seen and done after she finally got free from the orphanage and foster care and won back the use of her arms and legs (mostly), nothing seasonal on the tables or counters, no little strings of lights hanging from one surface or other. No sign of Christmas anywhere.
Beatrice cocked her head and looked at Ava.
Ava looked back for a moment before her eyes widened and she pasted on a wide smile. “Oh, uh, yeah, I've just been really, um, busy. Really busy, I just haven’t gotten around to, you know, uh, just put it by the couch!”
A smile slowly bloomed on Beatrice’s lips. “Fine. That’s…fine. I’ll just put it by the couch.”
Ava’s smile turned somewhat sickly. “So, uh, I’ll see you there?”
“Yes, I…you might beat me there, actually. I think I need to go home and change.” Beatrice fought down a wave of tension at the thought of being late, of you must not disrespect the host's time. This was the opposite of that.
Ava frowned. “What’s wrong with what you have on?”
What Beatrice had on was a terrible Christmas sweater that Camila had gifted her two years ago. She looked down at it for a moment and took in its gaudy hideousness. Then she looked back up at Ava and smiled. “I have something better.”
****
“What sort of Christmas sweater is that?” Mary asked. She spoke from a position of authority, as her shirt was a cataclysm of uncharacteristic cuteness, all reindeer and snowmen and eye-wrenching color schemes.
Beatrice looked down at what, to Ava’s eyes, was perhaps the ideal Christmas sweater. It was black, maybe cashmere (she would have to ask to touch, for science, and without ulterior motive), and cut to expose the slope of Beatrice’s shoulders. The arms were not quite tight enough for Ava’s liking, though there was something to be said for mystery, and for the way that the fabric fell against Beatrice’s bicep when she lifted her hand in preparation for a drink from her wine glass.
“Well Mary, my grandmother was trampled to death just this evening, and I am in mourning.”
Mary's jaw dropped open in shock, but Ava leapt in before Mary could respond.
“Oh no! She was sleigh-n on Christmas Eve?”
Beatrice nodded somberly. “I'm afraid so. I've been asked to give the Yule-ogy.”
Mary turned and promptly walked away, shaking her head.
Ava ignored her. “No kidding? Is it okay if I come? I'm going to show up no matter what to watch you speak, but I'd hate for you to think I'm stocking you.”
Beatrice snorted trying to hold in her laughter. “Well you might be disappointed. I'm afraid my parents might invoke the sanity clause in her will on the grounds that I'm a lesbian and therefore not of sound mind.”
Ava laughed. “You can't fool me, there is no Sanity Claus!”
Beatrice’s shoulders were shaking in silent laughter. “That’s good. That’s very good.”
Ava shrugged with a small smirk. “I used to watch that movie all the time when I was little. Limited options at the orphanage and all.”
Beatrice nodded sagely and took a sip of wine. Ava took a moment to admire the way the flush of Beatrice’s cheeks highlighted her freckles. It was Ava’s second favorite thing about Beatrice when she drank.
“So what did happen to the sweater you were wearing earlier? I’m not complaining, that looks super comfortable and all, but you were all shiny before.”
Beatrice smiled and leaned closer, then whispered loudly. “This one is so much more comfortable.” She gently grabbed Ava’s hand and put it on the sleeve of her sweater. “Feel how soft it is?”
That was Ava’s favorite thing about Beatrice when she drank: she became incredibly handsy. She had done it with her ex, that stuck up, no good, lying sack of…well. Beatrice had done it with the girl Mary had practically thrown her at one unpleasant night at a bar in an effort to “get Beatrice laid” (it had worked, of course, but Beatrice had sworn off one-night stands in the morning, which made Ava feel a little better about the whole thing). And more recently, Beatrice had done it with Ava. Ava had stopped pretending, at least to herself, that she didn’t notice a pattern.
Beatrice was, of course, correct: the fabric was incredibly soft. Definitely cashmere. Ava especially liked how it contrasted with the hardness of the muscle underneath, and how Ava was 90% sure that Beatrice was flexing on purpose. Ava made sure to feel very thoroughly, in case some of the fabric was not as soft as it initially seemed.
“Well?” Beatrice tilted her head in Ava’s peripheral vision.
“It’s so fir–” Ava cleared her throat. “...soft, it’s so soft.”
Beatrice leaned her head and shoulder against the wall they were standing next to, which had the effect of showing off the curve of Beatrice’s neck, which Ava was very careful not to imagine licking. “Ava.”
Ava stopped being careful. “Yes?” The way Beatrice stared at her, Ava suddenly regretted wearing the baggy monstrosity she had chosen, something silly and green and covered with red circles and stars and she looked like a walking Christmas tree.
“May I tell you a secret?”
Ava nodded.
Beatrice leaned close until her lips brushed Ava’s ear. “I fucking hate Christmas.”
Ava tried and failed to ignore the electricity that ran down the back of her neck and sprawled somewhere below her waist at the feel of Beatrice’s lips on her ear, and the sound of Beatrice saying the word “fucking” low and gutteral and intimate, like Beatrice’s teacher brain had meant it as a verb instead of an adverb. “What?”
Beatrice actually giggled, still far too close (not close enough), so that her cheek touched Ava’s as she shook, and Ava could feel how warm she was, no wonder Beatrice flushed when she drank, she was like a little furnace. “I hate it so much. You get it, right?” Beatrice pulled back and looked back and forth between Ava’s eyes and the light from the fireplace caught on the little flecks of gold around the edge of her irises and Ava nodded, because what else was she supposed to do?
“Ava…would you like to celebrate Tuesday with me tomorrow?”
Ava furrowed her brow. “Today is Tuesday.”
“Shit.” Beatrice’s blush deepened, and spread. “Wednesday. I meant Wednesday. Would you like to celebrate Wednesday with me tomorrow? I thought you could come by and I could make you a new hot chocolate recipe I’ve been working on and we could watch something.”
“Tomorrow is Christmas.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to celebrate Christmas with me.”
“No.”
“You want to celebrate Wednesday.”
“Yes.”
Ava inhaled deeply to combat a sudden feeling of breathlessness. “Yeah. Yeah. OK.”
Beatrice hadn’t blinked in longer than Ava thought was normal. “Ava, I…” Beatrice looked over Ava’s shoulder and straightened.
“Do you think she’s doing it on purpose?” Lilith asked from behind Ava’s shoulder. Ava turned to see Lilith chewing her thumb and staring across the room at Camila, who was sitting on the couch sideways with her legs draped across Yasmine’s lap. They were both chatting with Shannon, who was sitting in a chair angled perpendicular to the couch. Yasmine was running her hand more or less idly along Camila’s stockinged leg, from knee to about mid-thigh where Camila’s heavy black skirt had ridden up. Not quite indecent, but unquestionably intimate.
Ava sighed. “No, she’s not. She broke up with you, remember? If anything, you should be trying to make her jealous, not the other way around.”
Lilith didn’t take her eyes off Camila. “I’ve been trying. Dora doesn’t want anything serious, and Camila knows Dora want anything serious, so she doesn’t care. I actually think Dora might have slept with Camila too, after we broke up. But this,” she gesticulated wildly towards Camila and Yasmine “is clearly not just sex. How does that even work, anyway? Yasmine’s so…quiet. Passive. What does she see in her?” Lilith’s thumb returned to her mouth for another round of gnawing.
Ava sighed as Beatrice mouthed “good luck” and excused herself to the kitchen. “Lil, it’s been six months. What did Cam say when you broke up?”
“I was emotionally unavailable.”
“And have you started seeing a therapist to work on that like we talked about, or have you just been fucking Dora three times a week?”
“The second one.”
“So you need to do the first one, or find someone who loves you for you, emotional repression and all.”
“AVAAAA!!!” a voice called from the front door, the speaker not yet in sight.
Ava smiled. “Come on, let me introduce you to Chanel. I think you’ll like her.”
****
Ava had decided against bringing flowers. First of all, she doubted many florists were open, or any, on Christmas morning, and didn’t want to be the reason some grocery store or other was encouraged to have people working. Second of all, she was still fairly nervous. What if Beatrice wasn’t so interested now, in the sober light of day? Being abandoned, being left behind, was normal. A father who ran off to God knows where. A mother who left through no fault of her own. And an endless stream of would-be parents telling her without words that she wasn’t good enough to be their daughter, matched by an endless stream of nuns, Frances chief among them, telling her more or less the same with the vilest words they could think of.
And if Beatrice seemed different, seemed special, well, false hope was hardly new to Ava either.
It was easy enough to suppress hope, to imagine the worst, until Beatrice opened the door to her apartment. “Ava!” Her hair was down. Ava was screwed.
“Bea! Hi!” Ava opened her arms for a hug without thinking and Beatrice pulled her in close. She was so warm, thanks in part to another fantastic sweater, high-necked and soft, this time dark blue with vaguely triangular gray and white shapes lined up across the front. She smelled like vanilla and sandalwood and…chocolate?
Ava let Beatrice grab her by the hand and lead her inside. It felt like an invitation of some sort, so she let the pad of her thumb wander over Beatrice’s fingers. As she was led to the kitchen, Ava couldn’t help but notice that not a single holiday decoration hung on the walls. There was still a space in the corner of the living room where Beatrice’s tree had stood, but otherwise no sign of the holidays whatsoever.
They made their hot chocolate, something rich and time-intensive that involved steaming and reducing a cocoa mixture Beatrice had purchased from a local farmer’s market. Ava took hers with a generous amount of chili powder, while Beatrice took several marshmallows and a heaping dollop of whipped cream that Beatrice had whipped herself. Then they made their way to the couch and sat sideways, facing each other.
“So…” offered Ava.
Beatrice smiled. “So. Do you like the decor? I just redecorated this morning. And a little bit last night before I sobered up and fell asleep.”
Ava suppressed a chuckle. “It looks just like it always does…so yeah. I like it.”
Beatrice’s smile widened and her shoulders dropped slightly. “Good. Good, I…I was pretty sure, but I wasn’t...you might have just been agreeing to be polite, or I was drunk and misinterpreted, I…”
Ava put her hand on Beatrice’s knee. “You didn’t, and I’m glad you invited me over. This is…so much better than I usually feel at this time of year.”
Beatrice’s cheeks darkened a little. “Tell me about it.”
Ava pulled her hand back and took a sip of her hot chocolate. “You sure? It’s kind of a lot, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to–”
“Ava.” Ava looked up to find Beatrice still staring at her. “Do you remember what I said when you first told me about your parents? About the orphanage?”
Ava nodded, then looked down again. “It’s just…I don’t know. People say lots of things. And you tell them about the bad stuff, and even though they said nice things, their eyes go big and they don’t really know what to say and then there’s pity, or they just pretend like it didn’t happen, and people…” Her lips quirked towards a frown. “...people like it when I smile and bounce and make jokes. When I’m happy Ava.”
Ava paused, and didn’t look up, and Beatrice didn’t say anything for awhile, for long enough that Ava started to wonder whether she had made a mistake, had ruined this already before they even got started…
“Ava? Can I give you a hug?”
Ava looked up then, and saw the wetness clinging to Beatrice’s eyes. She nodded, and Beatrice wrapped her up again. “I didn’t want to be weird before, but while I’m being vulnerable and everything, you smell really, really good today.”
“As opposed to the other days?” Beatrice asked from over Ava’s shoulder.
“Shut up.”
“OK. Are you saying that because my breath smells too?”
“Well now that you mention it, I was looking for an opportunity to use ‘mint to be,’ but I haven’t found the moment yet.”
Beatrice started laughing softly, then broke the hug. She settled back down, but with less space between them now. “I meant it, though.”
Ava raised her eyebrows. “You could have used it there.”
Beatrice looked offended. “It’s yours, what do you think of me?”
Ava rolled her eyes. “I’m giving it to you then, it’s right there.”
Beatrice glared. “I mint it, though. Happy?”
Ava smiled in self-satisfaction. “Very.”
Beatrice failed to hide her smile. “I did. You can always talk to me about it, about anything.”
Ava nodded and blinked rapidly, in the hope that she could wrestle to the ground the sudden feelings of gratitude and affection that threatened to burst forth. “OK. OK. So I guess…at the orphanage, at Christmas, they would gather all the kids together in the dining hall, and they would get presents that people had donated, and apparently there were photographers and sometimes it got in the paper. It was a whole thing. They even had a choir from the local church, and they would sing carols, and when I had a roommate they would come up and tell me about it and the hot chocolate and candy canes. And I would just lie there in the bed and watch It’s A Wonderful Life or The Grinch Who Stole Christmas and wonder where the fuck were all these nice people who didn’t really care about material shit and who just wanted help and love and family, and why the fuck didn’t I get to have any of those things.”
Ava wasn’t actively crying, but she wiped a few stray tears. The wounds were old, but scars could ache too. “And even when I started to regain feeling and started to move again, they would almost take pride in pointing out that I didn’t deserve it, that I wasn’t a real Catholic anyway and I…even once I got into foster care, and got actual medical treatment and was with people who gave a shit about me, it didn’t really feel like it was for me anymore. It felt like I had seen past all the bullshit and…yeah. I didn’t even bother faking either, until college, and Chanel invited me to stay with her one holiday and I could just tell, she expected me to be this version of myself that was always happy and even more happy, because everyone loves Christmas, right?” Ava shook her head. “So yeah. That’s why I never invite anyone over in December. I just smile and grit my teeth until it’s over.”
Beatrice shifted, and Ava found herself cradled from behind. From there it was easy for her to slide, to lean, and make a comfortable space for herself on Beatrice’s lap while Beatrice played with her hair. “So what about you, Bea? How come you don’t go for the holiday spirit?”
Beatrice didn’t say anything at first, which wasn’t surprising. Ava knew that Beatrice liked to think through big conversations. At first the gaps in conversation scared her, made her worry about what was coming, but now they made her feel special. Most people would never get to have a quiet pause with Beatrice while she gathered her thoughts.
“Expectations. And disappointment. Suppose they went hand in hand. I remember wanting things, presents, asking for them. Silly things, action figures, board games, a friend showed me Pokemon cards once and I found a book of all of them in the library and I listed by name all the ones I wanted on my list for Santa. And I would wake up Christmas morning and I would get a tea set, or a frilly dress, or a children’s book on courtesy. Once I got the complete works of Bach on CD when I was a little older. And I remember the first time or two, maybe even three, I just smiled and said ‘thank you, I love it!’ I could tell what was expected of me, I understood that gifts were what people gave you when they wanted you to smile at them, but no one ever said that, and one year I didn’t smile. I said I didn’t want a girly dress, I liked trousers, and I didn’t want clothes for Christmas anyway, I wanted something fun. I think I may have asked for a Pokemon by name, actually. And my mother apologized to my aunt and my uncle and my cousins and she took me aside and explained to me that I was being an ungrateful brat, and I was to go back and apologize, that I was being rude and selfish and it didn’t matter if I liked a gift or not, I needed to act exactly the same way.”
Ava nodded. “And then it doesn’t even matter what you get, because it’s not about the gift anymore, it’s about acting happy. Have I mentioned I fucking hate your parents?”
Beatrice allowed a small smile. “You may have, once or twice. But that’s very much it. It doesn’t even matter whether I get something I like, the whole process is tainted.”
Ava shook her head. “You always seemed so into it. Little Miss Perfect Christmas.”
Beatrice's mouth twisted. “Well. Bridget–”
“Fuck Bridget.” Ava put a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, was that rude? I only said it because I hate her lying guts and hope someone stuffs her down a lit chimney.”
Beatrice chuckled and ducked her head and Ava didn't bother to stop herself from wiggling. “Yes, well. She picked up where my parents left off. I remember when I first tried to tell her that I didn’t really like Christmas, she insisted on visiting a Christmas village, and listening to carols, and attending Christmas pageants. I gave up very quickly and pretended I now loved Christmas, and she spent the next month telling all our friends how she ‘cured’ me of my Grinchiness and had showed me the true meaning of Christmas.” She took a long sip of her hot chocolate, though Ava suspected it was now lukewarm at best. “So yes, fuck Bridget.”
Ava chucked for a split second before something occurred to her and she sat up. “Wait, she never said anything like that to me.”
“That's because she hated you.”
“What? Why!? I mean, the feeling was mutual, but I never did anything to her.”
Beatrice's cheeks reddened. “I, um…she saw me texting with you one day, and she didn't like the way I was smiling. She said I was blushing like…I think she actually used the phrase ‘gagging for a shag.’ We had an ugly fight about it, but she hated you from then on.”
Ava tried not to let too much of her excitement show. “Bea, are you saying you had a crush on me?”
Beatrice seemed to hold her breath and Ava felt herself starting to lean in when Beatrice shook her head “no,” and it felt like the floor falling away beneath her and then the nausea hit. “Oh. Yeah, um, sorry, didn’t mean to–”
“‘Had’ implies past tense.”
Ava’s eyes widened. Beatrice’s eyes were already wide, and she seemed to be holding her breath. “Oh. Oh. Oh shit .” Ava felt the corners of her mouth start to perk up, and watched as Beatrice’s expression followed cautiously behind. “Uh, can I tell you a secret?” Beatrice nodded. “I’ve had a huge fucking crush on you for a while now.”
Beatrice let out a breath. “Oh good, I was scared for a moment there that I was ruining everything and mmph– ” Beatrice had a hard time talking around Ava’s lips.
By the time they came up for air, Ava was entirely in Beatrice’s lap, her legs wrapped tightly around Beatrice’s waist so that she had as much physical contact with Beatrice as she could possibly manage. Ava nuzzled into Beatrice’s neck. “I’m having a weird experience right now.”
Beatrice hummed in her ear. “Tell me about it.”
Ava rubbed her nose along Beatrice’s neck, partly to breathe her in, partly just to learn what it felt like to touch that part of Beatrice in that way. “Part of me wants to push further and see if you’d be interested in having sex with me, and maybe just doing that for the rest of the day.” She felt Beatrice shiver and pull Ava in tighter. “But part of me just wants to be really close to you, and kiss sometimes, maybe lots, but just…I kind of want to savor this.”
Beatrice rubbed her hand up and down Ava’s back, and Ava almost asked her to slide her hand under the shirt, to touch the scars, just to see what Beatrice would do or say, because for the first time in her life she wasn’t scared of how someone would react to them. But she waited instead, and Beatrice spoke. “I know what you mean. I don’t…I’m not traditionally a very sexual person, but I really want…” She sighed. “I think I mean to say that I know exactly what you mean. Also, it’s snowing.”
“What?” Instead of pulling back, Ava pushed forward to look to her right around the back of Beatrice’s head. She was greeted by the sight of big, fluffy flakes stuck together already on their descent past Beatrice's living room window. A voice she didn’t always remember in the back of her mind told her that this kind of snow was perfect for snowballs, and she laughed wetly. “You know what’s funny? Except for Christmas, I actually love winter.”
“Why’s that?” Beatrice punctuated her question with a soft kiss to the juncture of Ava’s neck and shoulder.
Ava returned the kiss, though she deposited hers just behind Beatrice’s ear and used the position to bury her nose in lavender and Beatrice’s hair. “The first time I knew I had a chance of walking again was the first snow after the accident. They rolled me out to the yard to watch other kids play, and a snowball landed on my leg. No one moved it, because none of them gave a shit, and after a while it started to hurt. My roommate at the time had done some research for me, and I knew that pain was one of the first things that could come back, that it might be a sign I could heal, at least partially. That, and it reminds me of playing with my mom.”
Ava pulled back to look Beatrice in the eyes. “So…” She brushed her lips against Beatrice’s, then again, back and forth. “If you hadn’t caught me Christmas-free at my apartment, would we still be here?”
Ava felt Beatrice’s smile against her lips. “New Year’s. I promised Camila I would kiss you before the year was out.”
Ava pushed closer for a deeper kiss. “Then we absolutely can’t tell anyone. We should put on a show.”
“Hmm. What did you have in mind?”