Hostile for the Holidays

23. Jasper

TWENTY-THREE

JASPER

I hold my breath as Stella takes the framed drawing off the wall to examine it.

I know what she’s looking for. Evidence of its destruction. Ripped pieces, torn edges. Because that’s what I made her believe I’d done to it.

I remember the moment like it was yesterday. The look on her face and how it had given me a rush of satisfaction, and then, for the first time since we’d been trading jabs, an overwhelming sense of regret.

I’d felt like shit for hurting her like that.

Making her believe I’d destroyed something she’d worked so hard on. That I’d purchased her drawing with the intention of hurting her, when in fact I bought it because I knew it was special. She was special. And I wanted a piece of her for myself.

I never told Stella that I didn’t tear up her drawing. I didn’t think she’d believe me.

But that day, the look on her face, and the heartbreak in her eyes, was the moment everything changed for me.

Yes, I kept playing the game with her. Kept competing and keeping tabs on her. But it wasn’t with the hope of crushing her spirit, but the hope that she would get to know me and we could be friends. More than friends.

Slowly, she turns around to face me.

“What is this?” Her voice is barely above a whisper as she shakes the frame. “Did you make a copy?”

“No.” I swallow. “That’s the original.”

“You didn’t rip it up?” she asks in disbelief, her eyes turning glassy again.

I shake my head. “No.”

I don’t know what to say. I should have told her. I should have given it back to her at some point as a peace offering. There are a thousand things I wish I would have done differently with Stella, but then we might not have gotten to where we are now. Or at least where we were twenty minutes ago when she shattered around me and I saw the potential for forever with her. And fuck, until this moment where my stomach is filling with dread, I loved that we made it here.

Now, I’m searching for the right thing to say, uncertain how to navigate this. I watch Stella’s face go through all the emotions. The shock of seeing her drawing again, the confusion that it was never ripped up, and then the hurt that I’ve had it all this time and never told her.

A single tear snakes its way down her cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me believe—” She chokes back a sob.

“I—I didn’t know if you’d even believe me.”

“God, Jasper.” Her voice quivers with hurt. “That was the moment I started hating you.”

Her words pierce my heart, but I have to keep going. I need to tell her the truth now.

“It was the moment I started loving you. I didn’t know it at the time. It took me years to figure out what that feeling was. And then, it felt like it was too late.”

“What did you say?” She wipes furiously at her tears.

“I love you, Stella. I’ve loved you all this time.”

“That doesn’t make sense. You hate me. Or you did.” She shakes her head, trying to reconcile my admission with our past rivalry.

“You told everyone I was joining a convent after graduation.”

“I was an idiot. I thought that would deter other guys.”

“Well, it worked.” Her face flushes red with anger. “I went to prom alone.”

“I wanted you to myself.”

“But you never had me, Jasper. You never told me how you felt. You just made sure I was alone and miserable!”

“I didn’t know how to tell you back then. How to make you trust me after everything. I thought that this arrangement would help?—”

“You lied to me. You didn’t need a fake girlfriend. This was all a setup, but for what?”

“No. Not a setup. Fuck. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.”

“How was it supposed to go, Jasper? Was I supposed to be happy that you lied to me all these years?”

She shakes her head in a swift arc.

“This was a mistake.” Still clutching the frame with her drawing, she moves to gather her clothing that’s strewn about my bedroom. “A huge fucking mistake!”

“Stella. I’m so fucking sorry.” I reach for her, but she pulls back.

“No! I was devastated about this drawing. What I thought had happened to it. That you would be so cruel to do that. And then, over the years, there would be moments where I thought you might not be the jerk I thought you were, then some other fight or competition would flare between us and my walls would go back up.

“Stay away from me, Jasper. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. And do not come to Sadie’s wedding tomorrow.”

She slams my bedroom door, and I stand there stunned.

How did this go from the best night of my life to the worst so quickly?

Fuck. I have to fix this.

Grabbing my jeans off the floor, I hop on one foot, then the other, trying to pull them on as fast as I can without tripping. With no time to waste, I rush down the stairs to see if I can catch her, but the house is empty. She’s already gone.

I don’t bother with shoes. I throw open the front door and run after her.

Shirtless, with my jeans unbuttoned and bare feet, I run out into the cold evening air.

“Stella!” I yell, like the lovesick fool I am.

She turns around, fury in her eyes that I haven’t done what she asked.

“Leave me alone, Jasper.”

I’m halfway across the street when my feet go numb from the snow underfoot, but I keep moving.

“I’m not done talking, Stell.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Ever again!” she screams. I’m sure the neighbors are all peeking out their windows right now. I don’t care. What we found these past ten days, the chemistry, the passion, the tenderness, is something I’m not willing to give up on no matter how hard Stella pushes back.

“That’s too bad, because I need to tell you something,” I say, continuing my charge across the street and onto her lawn.

“Jasper,” Stella warns.

“Stella,” I counter with the same obstinacy. “This hasn’t been one-sided. You’ve slung plenty of mud yourself. And I think you like to fight with me because it allows you to bury how you truly feel.”

“And how is that?” she asks in a mocking tone.

“I love you, Stella. And if you look past all the petty bullshit that’s happened between us, you’d realize that you love me, too.”

She sets the frame down carefully on one of the porch chairs, then drops her clothes on top of it. She’s wearing only her fuzzy pull-on snow boots and my t-shirt.

At first, I think she’s rushing toward me, but she stops short on the sidewalk and bends down to the snow-covered lawn. Scooping snow into her hand, she forms a ball and sends it flying toward my head.

At the last second, I duck.

I don’t know what I expected, but an impromptu snowball fight wasn’t it.

“You missed,” I call. Should I be engaging her this way? Probably not. But what I’ve learned about Stella is as long as she’s willing to stay and fight, there’s still hope. It’s when she shuts down and disengages that I’m at a loss.

I’m too busy gloating about her miss that I don’t see the next one coming. It hits me right in my chest. My bare chest.

Not only is the snowball perfectly packed so it doesn’t completely break when it hits me, but my lack of clothing has my bare skin absorbing every icy edge of it.

“God damn it, Stella.” I rub my aching chest. “That hurt.”

“Good,” she retorts, reaching for more snow.

She launches another snowball in my direction, but this time I’m ready for it and duck.

Shielding my face with my hands, I inch closer to her.

“Can you stop throwing snowballs so we can talk?”

“No.” She reaches toward the ground to reload but knowing she’s not armed yet, I make my move.

Rushing toward her, I scoop her up into my arms. She kicks and flails like a greased eel, trying to squirm out of my grip.

She slams her boot into my shin and I release her as I start to fall forward. If I had ever been concerned about Stella living in the city by herself, it’s clear from her self-defense moves I’ve got nothing to worry about.

At the last minute, I reach for her to pull her close so she doesn’t fall on the ground.

We fall into a heap against the snow, my bare back against the frosty ground while Stella’s body crashes against my chest. I should feel the cold against my skin, but nothing matters because all I can think about right now is making this right with Stella.

Her hands, icy from gathering snow, press against my chest so I move to cover them with mine, for warmth and the hope that I can keep her with me long enough to explain things.

“Please, Stell.” I squeeze her hand.

I’ve seen what we could be, the moments where she lets her guard down with me and it’s fucking magic. I want it. I want her. For the rest of our lives.

But what if she can’t forgive me?

Tears spring to my eyes, the emotion hitting me so intensely that this could be it. She could be done with me but I’ll never get over her.

She takes a shuddering breath, her features softening as she stares down at me in the snow.

“I never wanted to hurt you. I was stupid and immature. I know that doesn’t excuse my behavior, but it’s the truth. I love you, Stella. I always have.”

She shakes her head, huge tears brimming at her lash line.

“I hate you, Jasper,” she whispers, but there’s no anger behind her words, only sadness. “I hate you for making me want you, then hurting me all over again.”

I release her wrists, and she sits back on her heels, putting distance between us.

I sit up, still holding her gaze with mine.

“Please, Stell. I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I never did.”

Without another word, she sits up and brushes off the snow clinging to her legs. She returns to her porch, gathers up her things and goes inside.

I sit there for a minute longer. I don’t feel the cold anymore. Everything is numb.

Eventually, I stand up, and make my way back across the street to my house.

When Mrs. Peterson from down the street passes me with her Corgi, Wilson, I don’t even have the energy to be embarrassed by my appearance, and she must have the wherewithal to know not to ask.

Back inside the house, Juniper is in the living room watching television.

“What happened to you?” she asks, her eyes catching on the huge red spot where Stella nailed me in the chest with a snowball.

“Stella St. James.”

She gives me a tight smile. Enough said.