This Christmas (ch. 11)
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A/N: I just finished this chapter this morning as last week was so busy and then the weekend was spent in London at the Sleaford Mods concert. When I tell you I am still in awe and shock at having been blessed to see Gwendoline's performance with my own two eyes from the front row... I am never ever getting over this, I fear. She was fucking incredible.
The house was bustling with action: Deanna was comforting a crying Ben, your mother was cursing over something from the other room, Dan was helping your father set up a tripod in the living room. The dog started barking the moment Larissa stepped across the threshold into the front hallway, making her jump back nervously.
You closed the door behind yourself and your mother, who had clearly been busy in the kitchen before you’d arrived, began to fuss over you, smoothing some flyaway hairs down even as you tried to duck away. “There you are! I was beginning to think we’d have to take the photo without you.” She took off her apron and tossed it onto a table by the door. “Larissa, dear, would you come with me a moment?”
Larissa glanced quizzically over her shoulder but you simply shrugged, your brow furrowing slightly. Turning again, she followed your mother down the hall into your parent’s bedroom, carefully side-stepping the dog with a wary glance.
Your mother closed the door behind Larissa, and the moment suddenly felt too familiar — like when Larissa had been in her first year at Nevermore and Morticia had invited her home for the summer, and Grandmama had shown Larissa how to conduct a proper séance while Morticia went out with her friends. She felt thirteen again.
“I hope you’ll forgive me for being too sentimental,” Joan started, pulling Larissa back into the present as she opened the top drawer of her dresser. Larissa made a soft noise of protest. “My daughter hasn’t brought anyone home in years — well, to be honest, she’s hardly been home at all in years. You’re good for her.”
Larissa listened in silence — she didn’t trust herself to speak, not when she could feel the ghost of your lips against her own, not when she wasn’t sure what the kiss meant for the two of you.
“Anyway,” Joan turned around, a necklace dangling from her index finger — a thin, gold chain with a small, teardrop-shaped sapphire pendant. Larissa’s heart stuttered. “I thought of this the moment I first saw you. It’s just about the same color as your eyes.”
Larissa looked away instinctively. “Thank you,” she said, her voice tight, carefully restrained.
“It was a gift from Henry when we first started dating. Between the two of us,” Joan lowered her voice conspiratorially, “He’s a sweet man but absolutely clueless. I haven’t worn it since, blue isn’t my color.” Larissa forced a smile, though she could hardly hear a word your mother was saying over the rush of her pulse in her ears. “I’d like you to have it.”
There they were, the words she’d known were coming the moment she laid eyes on the necklace. Larissa silently willed Joan to take them back, but it seemed to be her unlucky day, as the woman pressed on.
“It would suit you so well.” Joan unclipped the clasp and walked around Larissa, and she felt her throat tighten.
“I couldn’t possibly–”
“Please,” Joan insisted, placing the necklace around Larissa’s neck and doing the clasp from behind. In spite of herself, Larissa bent her knees and leaned back awkwardly, just so she wouldn’t have to feel Joan sway on her tip-toes behind her. “I see the way you two look at each other, it’s that same foolish look Henry always gives me. I haven’t seen her this happy in a long time. Take it.”
Larissa swallowed thickly — the necklace was light and dainty, and yet it felt like a truckload of cement resting upon her sternum. Joan stood in front of Larissa then, smiling in satisfaction as she placed her hands on Larissa’s shoulders and turned her gently towards the window. The light caught the sapphire, sparkling a deep, rich blue in the afternoon sun. “It suits you.”
“Thank you,” Larissa said, almost robotically, her heart and her mind racing as she tried to force a smile.
“Thank you. Welcome to the family. Now–” Joan turned Larissa again, this time towards the bedroom door. “Let’s go take that photo, before we lose the natural light.”
Larissa allowed herself to be led back into the hallway and to the living room, her legs moving on autopilot. Something inside her felt fractured, and she had to trust that her years of putting on a confident persona as an educator and principal of Nevermore would pay off and carry her through the next few hours.
The rest of your family was already gathered in the living room, Deanna was combing Alice’s tangled hair, and you stood from the sofa the moment Larissa entered the room. Your gaze was immediately drawn to the necklace resting against Larissa’s sternum, and her hand flew up subconsciously to finger the pendant. “You okay?” you mouthed, your brow furrowed. Larissa inclined her head once, stepping to the side and leaning against the wall with her hands clasped in front of her as you and the rest of your family gathered in front of the Christmas tree and your father adjusted the camera.
“Oh, no, sweetheart, come here,” Joan said, waving Larissa over — her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“That’s alright,” she said quickly, the polite smile on her face masking the stab of anxiety that came with being in a family photo she didn’t think she had any right to be in.
She was helpless against your mother, though, who turned to you and insisted you pull Larissa into the frame. “I’m sorry,” you whispered as you took Larissa’s hand.
Larissa smoothed a hand over her hair, picked at an invisible piece of lint on the front of her dress, straightened the necklace — when she glanced down and caught your gaze, you were suppressing a smile.
“You look great,” you murmured, your voice slightly husky, and Larissa willed her legs not to buckle. Your arm wound around her waist, pulling her tightly into your side, your fingers splaying across her hip as your dad clicked the shutter and quickly hurried into position beside your mom. When you released her from your grip after the photos were taken, Larissa wasn’t even sure if she had smiled for them.
She felt torn. She knew she should be happy, over the moon. You’d obviously reciprocated the kiss, enthusiastically so — the moan you’d let out when she’d tugged your hair seemed to ring in her ears even now, hours later. And you were smiling at her, even flirting with her — that was almost more than she’d ever dared hope for.
And yet, Larissa couldn’t help the guilt that kept creeping in throughout the evening, and it seemed that everything that happened only intensified the feeling. The weight of the necklace on her chest. Your mother asking her to set the table for dinner. The way your sister trusted her with questions about school choices for Alice and Ben. When Alice called her “Auntie Rissy”, with the sharp lisp on the s’s, and tugged at her sleeve to show her, very proudly, how one of her bottom teeth was loose now, too.
Or when you’d all settled in the living room after dinner and Ben waddled over to her, of all people, and insisted on sitting on her lap.
Larissa wound her arms around your nephew as he rested against her, his eyelids growing heavy, and gently stroked his soft curls. She glanced down at him to see his chubby cheek smushed against her chest, and she couldn’t help but press a feather-light kiss to the crown of his head, her heart fit to bursting.
Watching you laugh with your sister, she realized she would miss this. Your family. You. In spite of being thrown in the deep end at every turn, she’d never felt so accepted or cared for outside of Nevermore before. Never just been part of a family without expectation or pretense. She truly felt like part of your family, and it was clear that they felt the same.
Except she wasn’t, not really, and that was where the guilt and anxiety found their point of attack. She wasn’t your real girlfriend, this wasn’t some fairytale or cheesy Hallmark Christmas rom-com, this was her real life. And her real life was never this easy. The “relationship” was based on a lie for your family’s sake, and she was, first and foremost, your friend — you’d drive her back to Nevermore after the holidays and things would go back to the way they were and then, in a few months’ time, you’d break the “news” to your family that it hadn’t worked out, that the two of you had broken up. Just like you’d planned from the beginning, Larissa reminded herself. She imagined your sister comforting you, and Alice asking where Auntie Rissy was when you visited for Easter, and your mother regretting giving Larissa that necklace, and how awkward it would be for your family to have to see her in that Christmas photo for years to come.
Larissa knew she was only hurting her own feelings at this point, but she couldn’t bear the alternative — the sting of inevitable disappointment if she allowed herself to hope that the kiss actually meant something to you.
“Oh, look at the time! We’d better get you two to bed, otherwise Santa will have to skip this house.” Deanna’s voice was loud, and it broke Larissa from the strange, somber trance she found herself in.
Alice immediately sprung up from the sofa and ran towards the hall in a near-panic, and all of the adults in the room laughed. Ben stirred at the sudden noise, and Larissa was reminded that she was cradling him against her chest, and that she ought to let go and let Deanna carry him to bed. She carefully handed him to your sister, smiling weakly.
~~~
There was a reluctance in the way that Larissa handed Ben over to Deanna that gnawed at your heart. She had been distant all evening — present, of course, laughing at jokes, talking with your family as if she’d known them for years, but there were moments when she wasn’t being spoken with where she would be staring off into space with a faraway look in her eyes, where you nudged her or asked her a question and she seemed almost startled.
Not that you could blame her, exactly, when your thoughts were focused on one thing and one thing only — the kiss. The feeling of Larissa’s tongue brushing against yours, of her hands tangling in your hair, tugging gently. The way she’d moaned, playing over and over again in your mind like a broken record, making it hard to concentrate on anything else at all.
Larissa had kissed you, and now she could hardly look at you — and you had no idea what to do with that.
Now that her lap was free, you dared to scoot a bit closer to her on the sofa, placing a tentative hand on her thigh. You could feel the muscles tense beneath your fingers and you nearly pulled away, but then they relaxed again. Glancing up, you could see the lights from the tree reflected in Larissa’s eyes, casting shadows across her hair, and you found your gaze drawn to plush, red lips, remembering how they’d felt pressed to yours. You licked yours subconsciously — and then you remembered your family’s presence and quickly looked away, refocusing on the story your sister’s husband was telling.
Larissa’s hand came to rest on your own, her pinky slotting perfectly next to yours, twitching — then she gave your hand a subtle squeeze. You looked up to see the ghost of a smile on her face, and you smiled back and rested your head against her shoulder, the warmth radiating off of her making you feel cozy and a bit sleepy as snow fell outside. It felt right, to be leaning against her like this, as if everything in your life until this point had been leading you to this exact moment. As if you’d never wanted to be anywhere else, with anyone else.
It was starting to get late, and your sister asked for help setting the kids’ presents under the tree. You and Larissa headed to the kitchen to get some milk and cookies for Santa — and carrots for the reindeer, just as Larissa had suggested.
“Did my mother give that to you?” you asked, nodding to the sapphire pendant resting against Larissa’s chest. She turned a little pink, her hand flying to the pendant to straighten it subconsciously as she nodded. “It suits you… it’s the same color as your eyes.”
“That’s what your mother said as well,” Larissa replied, her voice tight as she poured some milk into a glass. You watched her for a moment, your brows drawn together in confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
Larissa frowned, opening her mouth as though she was about to argue — then she closed it again, putting the carton of milk back in the fridge.
“I feel guilty,” she said, so quietly that you almost didn’t catch it. Her back was turned to you, her shoulders a hard, tense line.
Her confession made your heart sink. “Guilty? Why?”
“She should have given this to you. Or your sister.”
“No,” you said quickly, reaching out for Larissa’s shoulder — tugging gently, trying to urge her to face you. “Of course she gave it to you. You deserve it. You’re basically family at this point.”
Larissa’s eyes darted between your own, searching. “Am I?”
“Of course you are.”
“What about our agreement?” she pushed.
You paused. She had a point. You hadn’t talked about the kiss yet — about what it could mean, if it even meant anything at all.
“I mean…” You lowered your voice slightly, afraid someone would hear. “Even if we’re not actually together, you still deserve to have the necklace. My mom still likes you.”
Larissa frowned. “It’s not the same thing, and you know it.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall, too close for your own comfort, and Larissa shrugged her shoulder out of your grip as your sister came into the kitchen.
“Excuse me,” Larissa said under her breath, pushing quickly past your sister, who leaned back against the counter with her arms folded across her chest and her head cocked to the side.
“What?” You couldn’t keep the irritation out of your voice at being interrupted yet again, every cell in your body aching with the urge to run after Larissa.
Deanna raised an eyebrow. “What were you guys talking about?”
“Nothing. None of your business,” you muttered.
“Nothing? Or none of my business?”
You rolled your eyes. “Both. Goodnight, Dee.”
Brushing past your sister, you made a beeline for the hall — but her voice stopped you dead in your tracks.
“What did you mean when you said you’re not actually together?”
You swallowed thickly, refusing to turn around and meet your sister’s gaze as your heart hammered in your chest. “Just drop it, please,” you murmured weakly, already knowing that your sister was far too nosy not to press you for information.
“Who is Larissa, really?”
A heavy sort of silence settled over the kitchen. You turned, leaning against the counter for support. The knot forming in your stomach tightened. Who was Larissa to you, actually? How could you possibly explain to your sister that you’d spent the past few days pretending to have a girlfriend just for your parents’ sake? That every time you held her hand, even if it was just for show, it made your heart race? That somewhere in between asking Larissa to pretend to like you and kissing her in the car only a few hours prior, you’d fallen head over heels in love with the most incredible woman you’d ever known? You could lie again, of course you could, but you suddenly felt so tired.
“A friend,” you said finally.
“A ‘friend’? So you lied to us?”
A wave of anger rose within you and you opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. You couldn’t really argue — you had lied to your family, after all.
“Please don’t tell mom and dad…” you whispered.
“So do you… like like her?” Deanna asked, and you finally met her gaze. You could feel your hands begin to tremble and balled them into fists.
“Yeah.”
“Then why don’t you ask her out for real?”
You huffed. “Why do you think? I don’t want to ruin our friendship… What if she says no?”
Deanna laughed, pinning you with an incredulous look that made you blush. “Why would she say no? I’ve never seen anyone look at you like she does before, it’s honestly really cute.”
Your throat suddenly felt impossibly dry, your stomach clenching. “H-how does she look at me?” you croaked out.
“Fuck, you’re useless,” Deanna rolled her eyes, pushing off the counter and turning to set the plates of cookies and carrots and the glass of milk on a tray. “Why don’t you go ask her yourself?”
Before you could answer she picked up the tray and carried it towards the living room, leaving you alone in the kitchen with only your racing thoughts and a shimmer of hope. There was a fluttering feeling taking root in your stomach and bubbling up through your ribcage, and your feet began to carry you down the hall and towards your bedroom — towards Larissa.
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