The small plane’s engine hums steadily as it cuts through the wintry sky, soaring over an endless expanse of snow-dusted trees and frozen lakes below. I glance out the window, watching the landscape slip away beneath us.
Garred, Kelly’s flat mate and my “boyfriend” for the weekend, looks totally at ease beside me. With all his muscle, broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and mesmerizing dark eyes, he looks like he belongs in a fantasy novel, not cramped beside me on this tiny plane.
We’ve been airborne for about an hour and a half, mostly making polite small talk. Garred’s been absorbed in a Brandon Sanderson novel, occasionally glancing at me or out the window. We briefly discussed our charade last night when I joined him and Kelly at their apartment, but now I get the feeling Garred’s expecting me to lay out some huge master plan, like we’re about to pull an Ocean’s Twelve con. But the truth is, I don’t have a plan. Not really.
“Feels like we’re headed straight into a holiday postcard,” Garred says, his voice cutting through the hum of the cabin. He glances out the window, a half-smile forming as he takes in the snowy forests below.
“Yeah,” I reply, a bit stiffly. “It’s…pretty remote.”
Garred nods and turns to look at me with those piercing dark eyes. He really does look like Henry Cavill. Maybe even better—if that’s possible. “So,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “not that I’m complaining, but how did I end up being your holi-date?”
I blush up to my ears, cheeks now matching my red Christmas sweater, and fumble a little under his steady gaze. “Uh,” I say, “my family loves torturing me about my lack of a boyfriend every year, and I…well, Kelly suggested bringing a fake one.”
Garred raises an eyebrow. “So you don’t have a boyfriend?”
Is he surprised? Or is he teasing? I can’t tell.
“Obviously not,” I mutter, chewing my lip and looking anywhere but at him.
“Why ‘obviously’?” he asks, his gaze lingering. “You’ve got this cute puppy thing going on.”
“I—uh…” I get so flustered I lose the ability to speak. “I just meant ‘obviously’ because I asked you—” I trail off, my face burning.
Garred laughs, deep and easy, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “So, what are the rules?” he asks after a pause, tapping the armrest thoughtfully. “For our little act, I mean.”
I feel myself flush again, both from his question and the realization that we haven’t set any ground rules. “Just…keep it casual. My family’s going to ask a lot of questions, so be ready. And, um, feel free to improvise.”
“Noted,” Garred says, his eyes twinkling. “So, if I say I saved you from a burning building, they’ll believe that?”
“Maybe not that,” I reply, a small, reluctant smile tugging at my lips. “But we could say we met through Kelly. That part’s true, at least.”
Garred nods, his gaze flickering back to me. “So, Kelly’s the matchmaker. Anything else?”
I hesitate, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “You might have to…you know, act a bit affectionate.”
He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “I can handle that.” His voice is light, but there’s something intense in his eyes that makes my heart beat faster. “What exactly are we talking? Hugs? Holding hands? Pecks on the cheek?”
“Yeah,” I nod, hoping the poor lighting in the plane hides how flustered I am.
“Kisses?” Garred asks, and I freeze, my heart pounding loudly in my chest, before he continues with a completely straight face, “Sex?”
I choke on my own saliva, erupting into a coughing fit so violent that Garred starts to look embarrassed, telling me it was just a joke. But I’m too far gone, my windpipe waging war with my dignity as other passengers turn to look and a flight attendant hurries over, asking if I’m okay. As soon as I manage to stop coughing, I assure her I’m fine, but she still brings me a glass of water. I gulp it down, not daring to look at Garred.
“Sorry,” he says, giving me an apologetic look. “That was a dumb joke.”
“It’s fine,” I say, trying to salvage the last drops of my dignity. “It wasn’t about that. It’s just the dry air…always makes me cough.”
Garred nods, but I know he doesn’t buy it.
Thankfully, at that exact moment, the plane dips lower, and the captain turns on the seatbelt sign, signaling our final descent. I exhale in relief, grateful for the distraction. My nerves are in overdrive, and Garred’s calm confidence isn’t exactly helping.
As the plane begins its descent, I focus on the landscape below: winding roads, clusters of snow-dusted evergreens, and cozy houses scattered across the hills. Garred glances out the window, looking mildly curious and completely at ease, while my pulse quickens with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.
A quarter of an hour later, the wheels touch down, and soon we’re stepping off the plane into the brisk winter air. It hits me sharply, reminding me we’re now in my hometown, where the snow is thicker and the cold is sharper. The small airport bustles quietly, filled with travelers bundled in winter coats, making holiday plans in hushed tones.
Garred doesn’t hesitate, grabbing my heavy bag off the luggage carousel like it weighs nothing. I didn’t bring much for myself, but I have gifts for everyone. We head toward the rental car area, and my nerves start to hum again. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but my pulse only seems to quicken.
“You alright?” Garred asks, noticing my nerves.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say, “I’m just nervous this whole idea might be a little dumb. No offense.”
“I’m not going to embarrass you or anything, don’t worry.” Garred smiles confidently, and I believe him.
We load our bags into the trunk—Garred only has a backpack—and he slides into the driver’s seat, giving me a small, amused smile as he adjusts the mirrors. I climb in, feeling both the weight and anticipation of what lies ahead.
After a few miles winding through snowy roads, Garred breaks the silence, glancing at me. “So,” he says casually, “since I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, I should probably know a little more about you.”
I let out a laugh, relieved by the change in tone. “Yeah, probably a good idea.”
“Alright,” he prompts. “What should I know?”
I take a breath, gathering my thoughts. “I’m an assistant editor. I work at Herrey’s. I read manuscripts from unpublished writers.”
“Yeah, Kelly told me about that,” Garred says, nodding as he focuses on the road. “How do you usually spend your evenings?”
I shrug, a little embarrassed. “Uh, I don’t know, like…play computer games or something.”
“Nice,” Garred says approvingly. “What do you play?”
“ Rome: Total War . Age of Empires II .”
Garred frowns. “Aren’t those, like, a hundred years old?”
I snort. “They’re classics, thank you very much. They don’t get old.”
“Yeah, if you like shuffling pixels around,” Garred laughs.
“How dare you! They were remastered .”
He throws a grin my way. “I’m just messing with you. I like those games too. Been playing Warhammer: Total War for, like, a year straight.”
I blink at him. “Wait, seriously?”
Garred nods. “Yup.”
“You’re not just saying that, right? I can’t tell if you’re messing with me.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Why would I mess with you?”
I stammer, “You just don’t seem like…a gamer.”
He smirks. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, Mitchell.”
“Don’t call me Mitchell,” I say, blushing. “Nobody calls me that.”
“Should I call you ‘sunshine’ then?” he says, cocking an eyebrow. “We’re supposed to have nicknames, right? Or how about ‘sweetcheeks’?”
I snort. “God, you’re insufferable.” But I’m already feeling a bit more at ease, though the warmth in my belly isn’t exactly going away.
Garred glances over, amused. “Kelly warned me you’re not the romantic type. So try to work on that, or your family might not buy this.”
“Kelly said what ?” I blurt out, turning to him in disbelief. “She doesn’t know anything!”
“Isn’t she, like, your best friend?”
“She is, but…she doesn’t know anything,” I repeat, feeling the sudden need to have a little chat with Kelly. I glance out the window, snow-covered pines stretching out like a frosty winter postcard.
“So,” Garred says, bringing me back. “How should I be addressing you?”
“Mitch is fine,” I say.
He rolls his eyes. “Real couples don’t use government names. If we were actually dating, I wouldn’t call you Mitch.”
“Oh yeah? So what would you call me?” I ask, a bit dumbstruck.
He doesn’t hesitate. “Baby.”
I look away, my face burning and mutter, “Alright.”
We ride in silence for a few minutes until I break it. “We should come up with a code phrase. A signal, in case things get weird.”
“A code phrase?” Garred frowns, puzzled. “Like what?”
“Like, ‘can I have a word with you’ if I need us to leave the room.”
Garred raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a pretty normal phrase?”
“Exactly. But if I say it, it means we need to leave the room for an actual talk.”
He looks amused but nods. “Alright, got it. I’ll be on high alert for that.”
I manage a nod, feeling a little less tense. It’s good to know we’re on the same page, even if I still feel slightly ridiculous for needing a “code phrase” in the first place.
As we drive through the winding road, the landscape shifts from untouched wilderness to the cozy beginnings of the village. Snow blankets every rooftop and tree branch, creating a winter scene lit up by tiny holiday lights on houses and lampposts. My pulse quickens—my family’s house is only a few miles away, waiting with all the warmth (and scrutiny) that comes with the season.
Sensing my nerves, Garred reaches over and gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Relax. Moms love me.”
“So I’ve heard,” I say, feeling my skin tingle under his touch, even through my thick coat and sweater. Well, sort of. “I just hope she doesn’t love you too much, or I’ll get jealous.” The words slip out before I can stop them. I clear my throat, silently praying he didn’t catch that slip-up.
Garred seems to let it slide, or maybe he didn’t notice. After a moment of silence, he asks, “So, you’re okay with touching, right?”
“Yeah,” I reply as casually as I can muster, but my calm almost crumbles when his hand moves from my shoulder to my cheek in a gentle caress. I must be blushing like crazy because even that small touch sends a spark through me. God, I could actually melt from this.
He gives a thoughtful nod and then drops his hand. “Looks like I’ll have my work cut out for me.”
I laugh nervously, trying to ignore the warm flush spreading over my cheeks. I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for what’s about to happen.
The town comes into view, each house strung with lights and wreaths, the perfect small-town holiday postcard. As we pass by, I feel a strange mix of comfort and anxiety. I glance at Garred, who’s focused on the road, calm and steady.
Finally, five minutes later, we turn onto the driveway leading to my family’s home. The old stone house is nestled among the trees, its windows glowing warmly against the snowy backdrop. Twinkling lights line the roof and windows, casting a soft glow over the front yard. I hear faint Christmas music drifting out, mingling with the crunch of snow under the tires.
Garred parks and looks over at me, smirking. “Well, here we are. Ready, baby?”
I take a shaky breath, looking toward the house. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
We step out of the car, the cold biting at my cheeks as we walk down the snowy path to the front door. Through the window, I can see my family bustling around the kitchen, probably already knee-deep in holiday prep.
Garred falls into step beside me, and his presence is surprisingly steadying. As we approach the door, I glance up, feeling a surge of gratitude I hadn’t expected.
“Just know,” I say quietly, “they’re probably going to jump on us the second we walk in.”
Garred chuckles, his breath misting in the cold air. “I’ve got you. Relax, baby.”
I nod, heart pounding as we reach the doorstep. I hate how much I love the way he says “baby.” But then he takes my hand, lifting it to his lips to place a quick kiss on my palm. I feel myself melting on the spot.
Taking one last deep breath, I open the door, and we’re instantly enveloped by the warmth and light inside. The air fills with Christmas music, laughter, and the comforting scent of homemade holiday food.