Lauren was still staring at the doorway where Kiki had left when John strolled through the kitchen. “Those are her two pinnacles of quality,” he said. “Gatorade and boxed wine. God knows why.”
“Is she mad at me or something?” Lauren asked. “Or is it weird, me being with Asa?”
John ran a hand through his black curls, wrinkling his nose. “She and Marj broke up,” he said. “So she’s a little cranky in general. It’s probably not personal.”
“Oh.” Lauren knew Kiki hadn’t been thrilled when Marj bailed on the Cold World party after Kiki had gone to Marj’s stuffy law firm party. Still, breakups sucked—especially around this time of year. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
He gave her an assessing look, as if weighing whether to say anything else. She assumed it would be more about Kiki’s breakup, but when he spoke, it was about Asa. “We’re all a little protective of him,” he said. “Of each other, really. And especially with her own breakup being so raw . . . Kiki wants to make sure Asa’s not going to get hurt.”
Lauren understood what John meant, about how that wasn’t meant to be personal against her. Asa and his housemates looked out for one another, which was one reason she liked hanging around them so much. At the same time, it felt strange to think of Kiki being worried about how Lauren might treat Asa, when she’d been the one to warn Lauren away from Asa in the first place.
“She told me Asa was fickle,” Lauren blurted. The comment had stayed with her, wriggled somewhere in the back of her head.
John raised his eyebrows. “Fickle. That . . . is not a word I would use.”
“So then what word would you use?” Normally, she would’ve been embarrassed by the idea of grilling one of Asa’s housemates so hard about him, but right now she had no pride. She wanted information, and she didn’t care if John thought she was being needlessly nosy.
And if there was one thing she’d learned about John from their limited time together, it was that he was always thoughtful. If he was going to give her an answer, he was going to consider it carefully first.
“I would’ve said . . . searching.” He tilted his head, giving her a small smile. “But when Asa knows what he wants, he commits to it. Look at how long he’s been at Cold World—what is it, ten years?”
“True.” Sometimes Lauren wondered if that was a good thing, though. Obviously, she was glad for her sake that he’d been there that long—if he’d worked a year, two tops, like most other people would’ve done in their first minimum-wage job, she never would’ve met him.
But for his sake, she wondered if it had held him back, stopped him from pursuing other dreams.
She could’ve mined John for more intel all night, but at that moment Asa’s door opened, and he stepped out, his face lighting up when he saw her. “Hey,” he said, pulling her against him with one arm, pressing a kiss against her hair. “Merry Christmas Eve. I can see you’re already celebrating.”
Lauren handed him her flute of sparkling cider for him to try. It had become something of a running joke between them, how many times he’d ended up sharing her drink before they’d gotten together. It had always given her a little thrill, and it still did. Something about the casual intimacy of it.
“Mmm,” he said now, taking his sip. “Hitting the hard stuff.” He set the glass on the counter, pulling Lauren toward his room. “Come on, I want to give you your present. I can’t wait any longer.”
She’d come prepared with a present of her own and was trying not to feel insecure about it. The minute Asa shut the door behind them, she pulled the small wrapped package out of her Cold World tote bag, pushing it across the bed toward him.
“Open this first,” she said. “It’s not much. A step above a fart maker, maybe, but. Not much.”
He grinned at her, and she could see how touched he was that she’d gotten him anything at all. She really hoped she’d set his expectations appropriately by referencing the fart maker, but she still felt like she needed to apologize for the Secret Santa debacle.
“I’m not good at presents,” she said, knowing she was rambling but somehow still wanting to delay the moment when he opened the gift. “You said once that I don’t like to do things I’m not good at, and—”
“Lauren,” he said, cutting her off. “No matter what it is, I know I’ll love it. Although you did wrap this like you own stock in Scotch tape.”