Confetti it's a Parade Book 2

Christmas Wishes

Standing at the top of the ladder, you reached up, balancing precariously as you tried to staple the light string onto your house. On your tiptoes, you squealed as your ladder started to tip.

"Damn it Y/N, what are you doing?" Your hot neighbor Dean exclaimed as he threw his groceries down. Racing forward, he steadied your ladder, his arm stopping you from falling down into the snow.

"Trying to put up Christmas lights," you explained, climbing down the ladder. Instead of landing gracefully as you had hoped, your foot slipped in the snow, and you started to fall once again. Exasperated, Dean caught you before you face-planted in the snow.

"Why didn't you just ask me? I would have helped you," He sighed, setting you back on your feet.

"I know you're busy. I just thought I could try it on my own."

Rolling his eyes, he climbed up on the ladder, annoying graceful in his movements. His flannel shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, his jeans snug on his hips as he reached up high to easily fix the light strand. Humming as he went, within twenty minutes he had the rest of your lights strung up.

Rubbing his hands together, he blew on the reddened skin. "Do you want a cup of hot chocolate for your troubles?" You asked him, nervously hoping he would accept. You've had a crush on your green-eyed, wide-shouldered neighbor for the better part of a year.

His smile gave you all the answers you need. "I get it, you're busy," you turned around, taking the ladder down. "But I really do appreciate your help."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I would love to. But I promised my Brother that I would head over there for dinner. Raincheck?"

You nodded, watching as he climbed into that sleek, black car of his, driving off and leaving you wishing for more.

Two days later, you stumbled into your kitchen, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. Still half asleep, you took the coffee pot to the sink to fill it full of water when your sock slipped in a puddle of water.

Screaming as you went down, you landed with a thud in a pile of cold water. Your elbow smacked the floor, your ankle turned, and you lay there, the chilled water soaking into your ratty sweatshirt.

Struggling to your knees, you opened the counter under the sink only to be met with a spray of water. "Damn it!" You yelled, slamming the cupboard closed, trying to figure out how the hell you were going to handle this.

Immediately a certain green-eyed neighbor of yours popped into your mind. "No, I can't ask him," you mumbled to yourself, but the huge puddle on the floor said otherwise. "Fine." You stood up,

The snow was gently falling as you stepped out of your house. Wishing you had changed from your soaking wet sweatshirt and jeans, you raced over to his house. Knocking on the door, you stood there shivering, waiting for him to answer. That was when you began to notice that his house wasn't even decorated for Christmas. No wreath on the door, no lights along the roof. Not even a Christmas tree was seen through the window.

He pulled open the door, rubbing his eyes while yours traveled the bare chest that immediately came into your vision. All the words slipped from your lips as you imagined running your hand down all that smooth...

"Y/N? What's up?" He yawned. "And why are you soaking wet? Come on in."

He stepped aside, letting you enter his house. You had been inside once or twice before, but you had hoped to see some Christmas decorations. But there was none. "Don't you celebrate Christmas anymore?" You asked, rubbing your hands along your shoulders, trying to warm up.

"Yeah, but decorating just for me? Seems like too much work," he explained. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

You watched as he walked away, his jeans slung low on his hips, his back lean and tapered. "Wow," you whispered to yourself as he disappeared into his room before quickly returning, pulling a sweatshirt over his head, another one in his hands.

"Before you tell me what's going on, you need to get out of your wet shirt," he insisted, tossing it towards you. He turned his back, tugging on a pair of shoes, giving you the tiniest bit of privacy. It was a struggle to pull the wet shirt off, but soon it landed with a plop on the ground, and his sweatshirt was nestled against your skin. It smelled softly of him, a deep musk mixed with motor oil and something close to pine trees. "That's better," you sighed, leaning down to pick up your old one. Quickly you told him about your problem, and with it being Christmas Eve you had no idea who to even call.

"I've got tools. Let me see if I can fix it," he offered. "Meet you over there?"

Twenty minutes later he was laying on the floor, his upper half underneath your sink, while you stood by, attempting to hand him the tool he requested. According to him it was an easy fix, but you weren't exactly sure that was true. "So, about Christmas," you brought back up. "You going to your parents tonight? Or your Brothers? A special friend?"

His voice was muffled under the cabinet. "Nope. Staying in. Might order a pizza, call it a night."

"But it's Christmas Eve!"

He scooted out of the cabinet, his green eyes searching yours. "Christmas has never meant much for me. My parents are vacationing in Hawaii. Sammy has his new family. I didn't want to bother them. So I'm fine being on my own this year."

You could tell he was lying. Sure, there might not be a tree, or any decorations up at his house. But the thought of spending it alone? That's what was hurting him right now.

"I'm staying here, by myself. My parents...well, we don't talk anymore. So no one to spend it with either. Want to join me?"

"Really?" He asked.

"Yeah. I always make soup for Christmas Eve and watch a couple of Christmas Movies. Then tomorrow, I still go all out with the dinner. Even if most of it goes into left overs," you chuckled. "I'd love to have the company."

"I'd love to," he agreed. "What can I bring?"

"Just yourself," you were already mentally planning everything you needed to do. Your heart was racing at the thought of spending the evening with him. "Be here at 6?"

Right at 6 your doorbell rang. Dean had changed from his sweatshirt to a nice forest green button down shirt. In his hands he held a bottle of wine and a small wrapped box. "A present?" You exclaimed, smoothing down the dress you had finally decided on.

"I couldn't come empty handed." He sat the bottle of wine down on the entry table before handing the present to you. "Open it."

The lid slipped off, and you reached inside, pulling out a small bundle of mistletoe. Holding it in your hand, you peered up at him, wondering if you were dreaming.

"I've been thinking about this ever since you moved in beside me," he leaned in close. "As long as you don't mind?"

"Not at all," you whispered right before his lips captured yours. Dropping the mistletoe, you let him pull you closer as you realized that your Christmas wish might actually come true.