Maybe This Christmas, for Jen
Title: Maybe This Christmas
For: Jen
Characters/Pairings: James Sirius Potter/OC
Rating: PG
Warnings (if any): Implied sexual situations
A/N: I can only hope that this story is spectacular enough for how spectacularly late it is, especially since it is for such a spectacular girl! Happy belated Christmas, Jen!
The feel of her lips on his was incredible.
It was also incredibly shocking.
Her hands were cupping his face before he could react, but half a moment later his brain kicked into gear, and his arms wrapped around her waist.
But it was half a moment too late as she was already beginning to pull away.
She did sit at the bar next to him, though.
The surreal moment was broken, and the sound of jolly Christmas tunes swelled around him again. His head was spinning, and his mouth was hanging open.
The green-eyed young woman reached up to close his mouth, grinning at him, as she spoke. “Sorry to have surprised you like that, monsieur, but there is a man at a table behind you that I needed to get rid of, and he didn’t believe me when I said I wasn’t interested. Just pretend we are lovers for a few minutes. I’ll pay for your meal.”
He nodded. “Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’m more than happy to be of service.”
“No, I insist.”
“No, really,” he said, “I’m a stranger around here, just travelling; it’s nice to have someone to even pretend that I know.”
“What is your name, young man?”
“James,” he replied. He was mildly bothered that she thought of him as young, but he ignored it. “What’s yours?”
"Juliette."
James looked over Juliette's shoulder and saw the man who must've been Juliette's reason for coming over in the first place, and saw he was still watching the two of them. James put a few sickles on the bar to cover his meal. "Mind if I walk you out of here? Your admirer seems to need a little more discouragement."
She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and discreetly glanced back over her shoulder. Juliette sighed when she looked back at James.
"It's such a shame to end our night now, though, when we've only just met."
"And when I'm such a fantastic kisser, right?"
They both laughed, and James felt his face flush just a touch.
"What can I say? I'm French, and what's more born and bred here in Marseille. We are a passionate people. But come, I know of another place like this. The night doesn't have to end yet."
They walked out of the bustling drink and eatery hand in hand, and Juliette took him to another small place with just as much vibrancy down the road. The French sang, and they danced together and talked and laughed for hours and hours until closing time.
James didn't ask, of course, but from what he could tell Juliette must've been in her late twenties, but she had such an irresistible zest for life, passion in everything she did, energy in every movement, even in the slow and graceful moments, that she seemed to embody youth.
And really, they spoke about so much while they danced and mingled with the others that he felt like he knew her completely, and that she must know him completely as well. He knew it wasn't true, of course, but that's how it felt. He hadn't spoken to someone that much in years, not since he'd left home after finishing Hogwarts. He also knew it wasn't true because he hadn't said one thing about his family, nor she about hers. He didn't ask because he didn't want to have to talk about his family in return. He danced with others in the seaside cantina as well, spoke with others. Being around Juliette, meeting her in such a striking way, it had been like an exploding damn. Whereas he'd been travelling for months and months now as such a solitary figure, merely observing everyone and everything as he discovered new places, tonight he was doing more than observing, he was living.
When the cantina closed, James' and Juliette's hands found each others in a very natural way. He didn't know if he reached for her or she for him, but there they were.
"Let me walk you home," he insisted.
"All right."
James sidled up closer to her and draped his arm over her shoulder. Juliette let her arm wrap naturally around his back. There was no break in the conversation as they walked down the old cobbled streets. After a few blocks, they turned down a short road that led to the docks, and to James' surprise, they kept walking right onto the wooden boards of the dock, down to the end, and then Juliette led him along one of the off-shoots before finally stopping in front of a modestly sized boat.
She turned to smile at him. "This is where I lay my head."
"Seriously?"
Juliette nodded. "In Marseille, we are a people of the sea. Ever since I was a child I've spent as much time on the beach and in the water as I could, and when it was time to get my own place after Beaubaxtons, it seemed only natural to make that place a boat, to have my home on the sea."
"I like it," he said with a grin. His face was tired from grinning, and it was a feeling that comforted him. "You went to Beaubaxtons?" he asked.
"Of course I did. The finest school of magic in France."
"I have an aunt that went to Beaubaxtons."
"Oh, I know."
He blinked. "How do you know that?"
She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Were you really naïve enough to think that just because you didn't tell me your last name was Potter that I wouldn't know that's who you are? We learned about every great wizarding war in our classes at Beaubaxtons, especially ones where our alumni are involved, and everyone knows about your family, and you are unmistakably your father's son. But that's why you've been travelling, isn't it? To escape that legacy."
James sighed heavily and dropped his head, but Juliette brought her hand to his cheek, drawing his gaze back to her face. "There is nothing wrong with that, and I didn't spend my night with the son of Harry Potter, I spent it with a charismatic young man named James." Then she kissed him again.
This time he was ready, and his arms circled around her waist and drew her close to him. The kiss was long and electric. There were so many flashes of things combining in his mind - the fact that he'd been travelling alone for months, that she understood him so quickly, that she was fun and exciting - all those flashes coming together to open a floodgate of affection from his heart for the creature in his arms. He didn't want to let go of her, but eventually their lips slowed and stopped, but neither moved away from each other. James softly kissed her forehead.
"Where are you staying?" she asked softly.
"Er…" James frowned and then laughed. "I don't know. I was going to go to a place I'd heard about in the last town I was in after dinner."
"Then stay with me tonight."
He'd been so many places and seen so many things for the past eleven months, but until encountering Juliette he hadn't known how much he craved companionship. He thought he'd been content without it, and maybe he had been during those previous months of solitary discovery and adventure all across Europe, but meeting her had changed everything.
And that first night, he remembered drifting off to sleep next to Juliette, his face hurting from all the smiling in the hours before, and he hadn't felt that way in so long. He wasn't unhappy before Juliette, but now he felt completely content and happy all the time, even when they argued. He couldn't help bursting inside with happiness, and eventually he would just laugh and grin at her, and she would call him a loon and try to rage at him some more, but her fiery temper would melt away in the face of his happiness.
Nine days. It had only been nine days since their kiss in the pub as strangers, but with the bond they'd formed, it felt they'd been together nine months. There was still so much to talk about between them, but the emotions, the relationship, the foundation was there.
So it was a shock when James woke up to find that Juliette was walking around the bedroom, gathering up his things and tossing them into his travelling bag, the one he'd packed up many times and then shrunk to fit in his pocket, but that he hadn't imagined using again for quite a while.
"What are you doing, Juliette?" He sat up, quite confused.
"It's December 24th, James," she replied, only glancing at him before continuing to collect his clothes.
"Are we going somewhere?"
"No. We are not going anywhere, but you are going home."
"I… I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?"
She threw another handful of his things into the bag and then turned to stare at him. There wasn't anger in her eyes, but they were cold, closed, decided.
"I wasn't going to say anything about Christmas, really I wasn't. We've both carefully avoided saying anything about our families, and with good reason because neither of us wants to speak of them, even though I know we both want to know about each other's. But then you got this letter, delivered this morning by owl," she continued, snatching up a piece of folded parchment from the dresser. James opened his mouth to say something, but Juliette cut him off. "And I know it was not my place to read your mail, but I was up early, and I didn't want to wake you, but I simply could not wait any longer, not with such a great temptation."
James nodded. His jaw was set firmly, and he didn't know what to say. He didn't know whether or not he wanted to even touch the letter - he could guess who it was from. But he wasn't angry that Juliette had opened it. He could have been, she insinuated she expected him to be, but that detail seemed unimportant.
After a minute of silence, Juliette huffed, threw the letter back on the dresser and went back to throwing things into his bag. "It's from your mother. She wants you to go home for Christmas, and you are going."
"I'm not going," he said quickly and resolutely.
"Vraiment?"
"Vraiment," he repeated with a short, hollow laugh.
"You're going to be with your family on Christmas, James. I'm not going to keep you here."
"No, I'm not going home."
She stopped the packing again and strode right up to the bedside, an arm's length away from him. "Tell me why not."
He shrugged. "I don't want to."
"Why?" she pressed.
"Why does it matter?" he asked, becoming defensive. He'd left home, left England, because he was so tired of being the son of Harry Potter. He was tired of the media and the expectations and the pressing of his family to take a job or go to a program of higher education after Hogwarts. He'd just wanted to be free of it all. He thought she knew him well enough to know that.
"It matters, now tell me why you don't want to go home."
"Because I just don't."
"You just don't?"
"Yeah, I don't."
Juliette slapped him straight across the face. He grabbed his now-stinging cheek and looked back at her, confusion and a bit of hurt in his eyes.
"What was that for?" he yelled.
"For being a selfish child."
He opened his mouth again to argue, to rage at her for calling him a child, but then he saw the angry tears in her eyes, and that's when it clicked in his head. There was so much more to this issue than he was expecting.
He pressed his lips together, and then he reached for her hand, pulling her closer. "Juliette?"
She sat on the edge of the bed but turned her head away from him, wiping at her eyes with her other hand. "You can go home anytime you want, and you don't. Do you know how much I wish that letter was for me from my own parents?"
James swallowed, turning her words over in his head. Then he pushed her hair behind her ear and used his thumb to brush another falling tear off of her cheek. He waited for her to continue talking.
"I've never told you about my family because I no longer have one. I have three older brothers, but they were all finishing school when I came as a surprise to my parents. My father was a very important businessman and my mother was an important woman in French society. I found out I was a witch when I was eleven. My parents were… more than displeased. I had to choose between who I was or the love of my parents. My mother stopped speaking to me almost immediately, afraid of who I was, but she'd never wanted me anyway. I was an inconvenience to her social calendar that came along after she thought she was finally free of child rearing. My father tried to talk me out of going to Beaubaxtons. I was going to be sent away to school either way, but I knew that if I had this chance to… Well, I couldn't refuse it. You can guess the rest."
"Juliette, I'm so sorry."
She shrugged. "I'm a grown woman now. I have my own life. I would still choose to go to Beaubaxtons if I had the decision to make over again."
"I'm glad you did, I would never have met you." He had to say that he was shocked. Being disowned by her family was terrible, and she could've turned bitter towards the world, severe, harsh. Instead, she'd become a resilient, bright, and caring woman.
"And this is why you are so selfish, James. If my parents asked me to come home for Christmas, I would be there in a heartbeat. I would run to their door, but you just brush them off when they're begging you to come home."
He felt so ashamed now. "You're right," he said. He leaned forward, letting his head drop onto her shoulder. "I should go home for Christmas."
"You get to have the most wonderful experience that a person can have. You get to be at home with family at Christmas, and then you can come back here, if you want. I'll be here."
"No," he said, lifting his head, a smile slowing crossing his face. "You won't be here because you're coming with me."
"On, no, no, no, no. I'm not going with you to see your family on Christmas."
"Why not?" he said, jumping into a kneeling position on the bed next to her. "You want family for Christmas, and I've got a huge one with room to spare."
"I just don't think it's the best idea."
"No, it's a perfect idea! We have so many people at our family's Christmas that one more person won't be any kind of burden, and I'm sure my parents would love to have you there!"
She scoffed and just shook her head. "Well, that's just it, isn't it? James, I'm eight years older than you, and whatever this is between us, that's only been going on for nine days, and I'm not going to meet your parents as your… I don't even know. I'm just not."
"Juliette, stop." James cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the lips, and then planted a soft peck on her forehead. "Listen to me. I don't know what's going on yet between us either. It's different than anything I've ever experienced before, and you and I haven't spoken about our age difference any more than we've spoken about our families. I don't feel like you're so much older than me, I think this feels right, whatever it is. But the thing is, we don't have to define it yet, because, honestly, whatever else this is between us, great shagging, epic love for the ages, whatever, you are also the absolute best friend that I think I've ever had in my life."
Juliette pulled him close for another kiss. They were breathless and entangled in the bedsheets before they spoke again. James began planting small kisses down her neck and her collarbone, ready for more entanglement in the bed, but she laughed and stopped him. "Hold on a minute. Let's talk about this again."
"Okay," he said, rolling over to the side to lay next to her.
"We'll go to your home for Christmas, and we'll just be friends."
"Best friends," he qualified.
"Les meilleures amis."
"Family time for Christmas."
"A home for the holidays," she said, kissing him again.
This time he stopped her. "As best mates, you'll tell me anything, yes?"
"Yes," she said, cocking her head to the side, curious as to where this was going.
"This is what you want, right?"
"It will make me very happy, but only if it's what you want, too."
"I do want this, but I'm just saying, if we go home, and we're going to be best friends, I just want you to realize that means none of my fabulous kissing while we're there."
Juliette groaned and reached for one of the pillows, smacking James over the head. "You are insufferable!"
He laughed. "Merry Christmas!"
For: Jen
Characters/Pairings: James Sirius Potter/OC
Rating: PG
Warnings (if any): Implied sexual situations
A/N: I can only hope that this story is spectacular enough for how spectacularly late it is, especially since it is for such a spectacular girl! Happy belated Christmas, Jen!
The feel of her lips on his was incredible.
It was also incredibly shocking.
Her hands were cupping his face before he could react, but half a moment later his brain kicked into gear, and his arms wrapped around her waist.
But it was half a moment too late as she was already beginning to pull away.
She did sit at the bar next to him, though.
The surreal moment was broken, and the sound of jolly Christmas tunes swelled around him again. His head was spinning, and his mouth was hanging open.
The green-eyed young woman reached up to close his mouth, grinning at him, as she spoke. “Sorry to have surprised you like that, monsieur, but there is a man at a table behind you that I needed to get rid of, and he didn’t believe me when I said I wasn’t interested. Just pretend we are lovers for a few minutes. I’ll pay for your meal.”
He nodded. “Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’m more than happy to be of service.”
“No, I insist.”
“No, really,” he said, “I’m a stranger around here, just travelling; it’s nice to have someone to even pretend that I know.”
“What is your name, young man?”
“James,” he replied. He was mildly bothered that she thought of him as young, but he ignored it. “What’s yours?”
"Juliette."
James looked over Juliette's shoulder and saw the man who must've been Juliette's reason for coming over in the first place, and saw he was still watching the two of them. James put a few sickles on the bar to cover his meal. "Mind if I walk you out of here? Your admirer seems to need a little more discouragement."
She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and discreetly glanced back over her shoulder. Juliette sighed when she looked back at James.
"It's such a shame to end our night now, though, when we've only just met."
"And when I'm such a fantastic kisser, right?"
They both laughed, and James felt his face flush just a touch.
"What can I say? I'm French, and what's more born and bred here in Marseille. We are a passionate people. But come, I know of another place like this. The night doesn't have to end yet."
They walked out of the bustling drink and eatery hand in hand, and Juliette took him to another small place with just as much vibrancy down the road. The French sang, and they danced together and talked and laughed for hours and hours until closing time.
James didn't ask, of course, but from what he could tell Juliette must've been in her late twenties, but she had such an irresistible zest for life, passion in everything she did, energy in every movement, even in the slow and graceful moments, that she seemed to embody youth.
And really, they spoke about so much while they danced and mingled with the others that he felt like he knew her completely, and that she must know him completely as well. He knew it wasn't true, of course, but that's how it felt. He hadn't spoken to someone that much in years, not since he'd left home after finishing Hogwarts. He also knew it wasn't true because he hadn't said one thing about his family, nor she about hers. He didn't ask because he didn't want to have to talk about his family in return. He danced with others in the seaside cantina as well, spoke with others. Being around Juliette, meeting her in such a striking way, it had been like an exploding damn. Whereas he'd been travelling for months and months now as such a solitary figure, merely observing everyone and everything as he discovered new places, tonight he was doing more than observing, he was living.
When the cantina closed, James' and Juliette's hands found each others in a very natural way. He didn't know if he reached for her or she for him, but there they were.
"Let me walk you home," he insisted.
"All right."
James sidled up closer to her and draped his arm over her shoulder. Juliette let her arm wrap naturally around his back. There was no break in the conversation as they walked down the old cobbled streets. After a few blocks, they turned down a short road that led to the docks, and to James' surprise, they kept walking right onto the wooden boards of the dock, down to the end, and then Juliette led him along one of the off-shoots before finally stopping in front of a modestly sized boat.
She turned to smile at him. "This is where I lay my head."
"Seriously?"
Juliette nodded. "In Marseille, we are a people of the sea. Ever since I was a child I've spent as much time on the beach and in the water as I could, and when it was time to get my own place after Beaubaxtons, it seemed only natural to make that place a boat, to have my home on the sea."
"I like it," he said with a grin. His face was tired from grinning, and it was a feeling that comforted him. "You went to Beaubaxtons?" he asked.
"Of course I did. The finest school of magic in France."
"I have an aunt that went to Beaubaxtons."
"Oh, I know."
He blinked. "How do you know that?"
She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Were you really naïve enough to think that just because you didn't tell me your last name was Potter that I wouldn't know that's who you are? We learned about every great wizarding war in our classes at Beaubaxtons, especially ones where our alumni are involved, and everyone knows about your family, and you are unmistakably your father's son. But that's why you've been travelling, isn't it? To escape that legacy."
James sighed heavily and dropped his head, but Juliette brought her hand to his cheek, drawing his gaze back to her face. "There is nothing wrong with that, and I didn't spend my night with the son of Harry Potter, I spent it with a charismatic young man named James." Then she kissed him again.
This time he was ready, and his arms circled around her waist and drew her close to him. The kiss was long and electric. There were so many flashes of things combining in his mind - the fact that he'd been travelling alone for months, that she understood him so quickly, that she was fun and exciting - all those flashes coming together to open a floodgate of affection from his heart for the creature in his arms. He didn't want to let go of her, but eventually their lips slowed and stopped, but neither moved away from each other. James softly kissed her forehead.
"Where are you staying?" she asked softly.
"Er…" James frowned and then laughed. "I don't know. I was going to go to a place I'd heard about in the last town I was in after dinner."
"Then stay with me tonight."
He'd been so many places and seen so many things for the past eleven months, but until encountering Juliette he hadn't known how much he craved companionship. He thought he'd been content without it, and maybe he had been during those previous months of solitary discovery and adventure all across Europe, but meeting her had changed everything.
And that first night, he remembered drifting off to sleep next to Juliette, his face hurting from all the smiling in the hours before, and he hadn't felt that way in so long. He wasn't unhappy before Juliette, but now he felt completely content and happy all the time, even when they argued. He couldn't help bursting inside with happiness, and eventually he would just laugh and grin at her, and she would call him a loon and try to rage at him some more, but her fiery temper would melt away in the face of his happiness.
Nine days. It had only been nine days since their kiss in the pub as strangers, but with the bond they'd formed, it felt they'd been together nine months. There was still so much to talk about between them, but the emotions, the relationship, the foundation was there.
So it was a shock when James woke up to find that Juliette was walking around the bedroom, gathering up his things and tossing them into his travelling bag, the one he'd packed up many times and then shrunk to fit in his pocket, but that he hadn't imagined using again for quite a while.
"What are you doing, Juliette?" He sat up, quite confused.
"It's December 24th, James," she replied, only glancing at him before continuing to collect his clothes.
"Are we going somewhere?"
"No. We are not going anywhere, but you are going home."
"I… I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?"
She threw another handful of his things into the bag and then turned to stare at him. There wasn't anger in her eyes, but they were cold, closed, decided.
"I wasn't going to say anything about Christmas, really I wasn't. We've both carefully avoided saying anything about our families, and with good reason because neither of us wants to speak of them, even though I know we both want to know about each other's. But then you got this letter, delivered this morning by owl," she continued, snatching up a piece of folded parchment from the dresser. James opened his mouth to say something, but Juliette cut him off. "And I know it was not my place to read your mail, but I was up early, and I didn't want to wake you, but I simply could not wait any longer, not with such a great temptation."
James nodded. His jaw was set firmly, and he didn't know what to say. He didn't know whether or not he wanted to even touch the letter - he could guess who it was from. But he wasn't angry that Juliette had opened it. He could have been, she insinuated she expected him to be, but that detail seemed unimportant.
After a minute of silence, Juliette huffed, threw the letter back on the dresser and went back to throwing things into his bag. "It's from your mother. She wants you to go home for Christmas, and you are going."
"I'm not going," he said quickly and resolutely.
"Vraiment?"
"Vraiment," he repeated with a short, hollow laugh.
"You're going to be with your family on Christmas, James. I'm not going to keep you here."
"No, I'm not going home."
She stopped the packing again and strode right up to the bedside, an arm's length away from him. "Tell me why not."
He shrugged. "I don't want to."
"Why?" she pressed.
"Why does it matter?" he asked, becoming defensive. He'd left home, left England, because he was so tired of being the son of Harry Potter. He was tired of the media and the expectations and the pressing of his family to take a job or go to a program of higher education after Hogwarts. He'd just wanted to be free of it all. He thought she knew him well enough to know that.
"It matters, now tell me why you don't want to go home."
"Because I just don't."
"You just don't?"
"Yeah, I don't."
Juliette slapped him straight across the face. He grabbed his now-stinging cheek and looked back at her, confusion and a bit of hurt in his eyes.
"What was that for?" he yelled.
"For being a selfish child."
He opened his mouth again to argue, to rage at her for calling him a child, but then he saw the angry tears in her eyes, and that's when it clicked in his head. There was so much more to this issue than he was expecting.
He pressed his lips together, and then he reached for her hand, pulling her closer. "Juliette?"
She sat on the edge of the bed but turned her head away from him, wiping at her eyes with her other hand. "You can go home anytime you want, and you don't. Do you know how much I wish that letter was for me from my own parents?"
James swallowed, turning her words over in his head. Then he pushed her hair behind her ear and used his thumb to brush another falling tear off of her cheek. He waited for her to continue talking.
"I've never told you about my family because I no longer have one. I have three older brothers, but they were all finishing school when I came as a surprise to my parents. My father was a very important businessman and my mother was an important woman in French society. I found out I was a witch when I was eleven. My parents were… more than displeased. I had to choose between who I was or the love of my parents. My mother stopped speaking to me almost immediately, afraid of who I was, but she'd never wanted me anyway. I was an inconvenience to her social calendar that came along after she thought she was finally free of child rearing. My father tried to talk me out of going to Beaubaxtons. I was going to be sent away to school either way, but I knew that if I had this chance to… Well, I couldn't refuse it. You can guess the rest."
"Juliette, I'm so sorry."
She shrugged. "I'm a grown woman now. I have my own life. I would still choose to go to Beaubaxtons if I had the decision to make over again."
"I'm glad you did, I would never have met you." He had to say that he was shocked. Being disowned by her family was terrible, and she could've turned bitter towards the world, severe, harsh. Instead, she'd become a resilient, bright, and caring woman.
"And this is why you are so selfish, James. If my parents asked me to come home for Christmas, I would be there in a heartbeat. I would run to their door, but you just brush them off when they're begging you to come home."
He felt so ashamed now. "You're right," he said. He leaned forward, letting his head drop onto her shoulder. "I should go home for Christmas."
"You get to have the most wonderful experience that a person can have. You get to be at home with family at Christmas, and then you can come back here, if you want. I'll be here."
"No," he said, lifting his head, a smile slowing crossing his face. "You won't be here because you're coming with me."
"On, no, no, no, no. I'm not going with you to see your family on Christmas."
"Why not?" he said, jumping into a kneeling position on the bed next to her. "You want family for Christmas, and I've got a huge one with room to spare."
"I just don't think it's the best idea."
"No, it's a perfect idea! We have so many people at our family's Christmas that one more person won't be any kind of burden, and I'm sure my parents would love to have you there!"
She scoffed and just shook her head. "Well, that's just it, isn't it? James, I'm eight years older than you, and whatever this is between us, that's only been going on for nine days, and I'm not going to meet your parents as your… I don't even know. I'm just not."
"Juliette, stop." James cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the lips, and then planted a soft peck on her forehead. "Listen to me. I don't know what's going on yet between us either. It's different than anything I've ever experienced before, and you and I haven't spoken about our age difference any more than we've spoken about our families. I don't feel like you're so much older than me, I think this feels right, whatever it is. But the thing is, we don't have to define it yet, because, honestly, whatever else this is between us, great shagging, epic love for the ages, whatever, you are also the absolute best friend that I think I've ever had in my life."
Juliette pulled him close for another kiss. They were breathless and entangled in the bedsheets before they spoke again. James began planting small kisses down her neck and her collarbone, ready for more entanglement in the bed, but she laughed and stopped him. "Hold on a minute. Let's talk about this again."
"Okay," he said, rolling over to the side to lay next to her.
"We'll go to your home for Christmas, and we'll just be friends."
"Best friends," he qualified.
"Les meilleures amis."
"Family time for Christmas."
"A home for the holidays," she said, kissing him again.
This time he stopped her. "As best mates, you'll tell me anything, yes?"
"Yes," she said, cocking her head to the side, curious as to where this was going.
"This is what you want, right?"
"It will make me very happy, but only if it's what you want, too."
"I do want this, but I'm just saying, if we go home, and we're going to be best friends, I just want you to realize that means none of my fabulous kissing while we're there."
Juliette groaned and reached for one of the pillows, smacking James over the head. "You are insufferable!"
He laughed. "Merry Christmas!"