Diego stares up at the sky. “I mean, we’re not standing under the mistletoe or anything.” He looks back at me, his eyes teasing. Is he flirting with me? Or is he just a really good actor? “But we should make an exception; extreme circumstances and all…” He pulls me closer.

“I’m not forcing you to kiss me,” I say. “It wasn’t in our contract, and I promised you no physical interactions, and—”

“Nikki,” he interrupts. He’s never said my name with such intensity. “Shut up.”

And to make sure I do, he presses his lips onto mine. And it’s no stage kiss. There’s tongue, and there’s heat. So much heat I’m afraid poor Frosty will melt after all.

Gosh, how long has it been since someone kissed me like this? Has anyone ever kissed me like this? I can’t remember… Right now I can’t remember anything; my brain is melting, and my knees are turning into a wobbly mess. I remove my hands from his butt and wrap them around his neck—to pull him closer, or to support myself, I’m not sure.

“Err-emm,” someone clears his throat behind us.

I quickly detach myself from Diego and turn around to find Dad staring at us from the backyard threshold, arms severely crossed over his chest.

“Lunch is ready,” he announces.

Oh my goodness! I can’t believe my dad just did that! Worse than when I was a teenager and he would signal my date that making out time was over by turning on the porch lights.

“Guess they bought the show.” Diego winks at me and affectionately pats my rear end before preceding me into the house.

So it was all just for show?

I can’t help but feel disappointed as I follow him inside.

But for the rest of the day, Diego keeps throwing me flirty stares, which I find myself willingly reciprocating. What’s happening to us? What’s happening to me?

I feel different. I don’t hate Christmas that much anymore. And I don’t miss work at all. And whenever I stare at Paul and Julia together, I no longer feel a stab through the heart.

Today has been so weird. Like, take this afternoon. Dad roped Diego into going with him to the store to get more firewood, and Mom and Julia went out grocery shopping because Mom’s pantry wasn’t equipped to meet all of my sister’s vegan needs. So Paul and I were left home alone for a couple of hours. We hadn’t been alone for that long in ages, and after only fifteen minutes of him talking about his job non-stop—as I said, he’s drifted into the most boring, corporate, figures-oriented branch of marketing ever invented—I found myself zoning out more often than not. Whereas, back when we were in college, I used to hang from his every word.

Could it be that after such a long time apart, I no longer know Paul? That the man I thought I loved no longer exists? I mean, what happened to the boy who used to stay up all night discussing politics and higher ideals with me when I didn’t have class in the morning and he did? Or to the guy who used to fall asleep in my bathtub on the weekends because he was too drunk to aim for the couch? Or the dude who forced me to crash strangers’ parties just because it was fun? The man standing before me earlier today just seemed so boring… Oh, did I just call Paul “boring?”