The Christmas party at your parents' house was in full swing. Laughter echoed through the halls, the smell of gingerbread wafted from the kitchen, and your younger cousins were running around with sugar-fueled energy. But none of it could distract you from the one thing—or rather, the one person—on your mind: Nicholas Chavez.
You'd invited him to come, of course, but his schedule was always unpredictable. Between his filming commitments and holiday travel, you hadn't been sure if he'd actually make it. Still, you couldn't stop yourself from glancing at the door every time it opened, hoping it'd be him stepping through.
As you stood near the Christmas tree, holding a mug of cider and half-heartedly chatting with your aunt, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You excused yourself quickly and checked the screen. It was a text from Nicholas.
Nick: Outside.
Your heart skipped, and you didn't waste a second. Setting your mug on the nearest table, you grabbed your coat and slipped out the front door into the crisp night air.
There he was, standing by his car with a small wrapped gift in hand, looking unfairly handsome in a dark coat and scarf. The golden glow of the streetlights made his smile even more radiant.
"You made it," you said, breathless from a mix of excitement and the cold.
"Of course I did," he said, stepping closer. "I wouldn't miss this. Not for the world."
You smiled, your cheeks already warm despite the freezing temperature. "I didn't think you'd be able to come."
"Neither did I," he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair. "But I moved some things around. Christmas wouldn't feel right without seeing you."
Your heart swelled at his words, but you played it cool, crossing your arms with a teasing grin. "Well, I hope Santa doesn't get jealous. He thought he was the only man in my life this time of year."
Nicholas laughed, a sound that always made your chest tighten. "Santa's got nothing on me," he said, stepping closer. His voice softened as he added, "He doesn't know you like I do."
The way he said it—soft but sure—made the world feel like it stopped for a moment. The snow fell quietly around you, the muffled sounds of the party inside fading into the background.
"I missed you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
"I missed you more," he replied, reaching out to brush a stray snowflake from your hair. "You have no idea how much."
You smiled up at him, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. "Come inside. My family's dying to meet you."
Nicholas hesitated, his hand lingering on your cheek. "You sure you want to share me with them? I kind of like keeping you all to myself."
Your laugh was soft, and you took his hand in yours, pulling him toward the house. "I think they'll survive a little competition. But if you play your cards right, maybe I'll sneak you away later."
He grinned, letting you lead him inside. "I'm holding you to that."
The party lit up the moment Nicholas walked in. Your family welcomed him with open arms, asking him endless questions about his career and where he was from. He handled it all with ease, charming everyone as if he'd been doing it his whole life.
But even in the middle of the crowd, his attention never wavered from you. His eyes always seemed to find yours, a small smile tugging at his lips whenever you caught him looking.
As the night wore on, the party began to wind down. Your family drifted into the living room to watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, but you and Nicholas stayed behind in the kitchen, the quiet hum of the house creating an intimate bubble around you.
"Not bad, huh?" you said, leaning against the counter. "They didn't scare you off."
Nicholas laughed, leaning against the counter opposite you. "Not even close. Your family's great."
You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "And me?"
"You," he said, stepping closer, "are everything."
Your breath hitched as he reached out, his hand brushing against yours.
"Being with you tonight, seeing how you light up around your family... it just reminded me why I wanted to be here," he continued, his voice low. "You're not just part of my Christmas; you're the best part of my year."
Your heart melted at his words, and you stepped closer, closing the distance between you. "You know, Santa could never compete with that," you said softly.
"Exactly my point," he teased, his hand sliding to your waist.
The moment hung between you, soft and sweet, before he leaned down and kissed you. It wasn't rushed or tentative—it was full of warmth and longing, like he was pouring everything he felt for you into that one kiss.
When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and you smiled. "You're staying, right?"
"For as long as you'll have me," he said, his voice steady.
You laughed, pulling him into a hug. "Good. Because Santa doesn't know me like you do, and I'd rather spend my Christmas with you."
And as the snow fell outside and the house filled with the soft sounds of holiday cheer, you couldn't help but think that this was exactly how Christmas was meant to feel—wrapped up in love, laughter, and the arms of the person who knew you better than anyone else.
