A Christmas to remember
When Sophie’s oldest friend, Chase, spends Christmas with her family, the two finally realize that their friendship had become so much more
My best friend, Chase, stops short, the grocery cart we’re filling for my family’s big Christmas dinner screeching as his mouth falls open. “Wait, what did you just say?” he asks.
I nod, chuckling. I’ve been amusing him with details of yet another date gone wrong as we shop. Our misguided dating lives are a source of never-ending entertainment for us. “I literally sprinted back to my car when it was over,” I tell him. “On the bright side, I’ll be in great shape for the Christmas touch-football game.”
“Wow,” Chase shakes his head, wavy hair swishing as his ample lips curve into a smile. “You sure know how to pick them, Sophie.”
“Speaking of ‘picking them,’ can we get some apples? I’m making a tart for dessert.”
His chestnut-colored eyes widen, his tone mock-serious. “I would scale a tree, during a snowstorm, to pick apples for your tart.”
“Good thing for you, they’re just sitting in the produce section.” I jab him playfully, my heartbeat speeding up as he grabs my arm and links it through his. I try to fight it, but there’s no denying it: I’ve been feeling something new inside for Chase lately. It threatens to complicate things…but I’ve developed a huge crush on my oldest friend.
“Can I be on peeling duty?” Chase leans in, breaking me from my reveries. I laugh, feeling giddy as we sing along to “Santa Baby” playing over the store’s speakers, and he chuckles back in his carefree way, trying to steer the cart with one arm in mine.
We’re such goofballs together— something that’s been missing from every
other failed relationship. My stomach does a flip as his bicep flexes under my grip. Focus, Sophie. Chase and I have been clearly planted in the land of platonic friendship. We’ve seen each other through breakups, fix-ups and stand-ups. I wasn’t supposed to fall for him.
But this year, he’s in my hometown for Christmas. Maybe it’s time to “exit the friend zone,” as my dad said when he’d seen us together.
On the day, I give myself a pep-talk before he arrives. My parents’ house smells like roasting ham and cinnamon mingled with fresh evergreen tree. Relatives steadily file in. Dad pours eggnog and cracks his
He stands and before I know it, his hands are around my waist”
corny jokes. Mom hums as she’s cooking and bosses me and my brothers around, but the air is joyful…if electric with the anticipation of finally telling Chase how I feel.
“I made,” Chase pauses, sweeping his hand from behind his back with a flourish, “attempted, cookies.” He opens a tin with lopsided gingerbread people. “This is you.” He hands me one with curls of brown icing. “You’re definitely prettier in real life.” He grins, a glint in his eye.
I laugh, trying not to blush at the compliment, and take a bite. “I’m delicious!”
“No doubt about that.” He smirks, turning to give my mom a hug and a snowflake planter full of white poinsettias, then my father lures him out to the garage to show his latest efforts on the car he’s restoring.
I check the ham and my mom adds water to her new plant. She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “He’s a keeper, Sophie.” “Mom! We’re just friends.” “Things can change,” she trills, scurrying from the room before I can say anything else, but inside, I’m hoping that’s true.
Dinner is a chaotic, laugh-filled affair, until Chase leans over, his warm breath sending a shock through to my toes.
“Sophie,” he whispers, “I want you to know, there’s nobody I’d rather spend Christmas with.” My heart leaps. His eyes melt into mine and we have a moment.
After cleanup, Chase and I get ready to meet my brothers and cousins outside for the touch-football game. Half the fun is slipping and sliding in the snow.
He puts on his favorite lucky jersey because I’ve told him we never beat my older cousins. He winks. “Your brothers and I discussed a strategy.”
I’m so distracted by the way he looks in his jersey that I stop listening, only coming to when I see him catch my eye.
“Or maybe,” he teases when he realizes I’m just staring at him, “we should have loaded their plates with extra mashed potatoes to slow them down.” “Maybe,” I mumble.
He turns, closing the space between us. “Or maybe I should have done this a long time ago.” He stands up, and before I know it, his hands are around my waist.
We kiss so sweet and tenderly, and outside, I see snow falling.
“Definitely,” is all I can manage, my pulse racing. We’re exiting the friend zone, full speed. Best. Christmas. Ever.