Brooks shows right on time. Somehow even in the heart of December he looks like a summer boy. Sure he's got the fitted black dress pants and white button-down with a wine skinny tie. OMG the skinny tie. I'm dead. His hair is all wavy and tucked back behind his ears. His skin glistens with a sunny glow. He could have just stepped off the beach.

I catch a whiff of his cologne when he hugs me at the door. Still, his suit –his hair –his smell –all of it is nothing compared to his smile when he sees me. His eyes light up at my dress. At the way my lips slightly part to kiss his, nice and slow.

Prom night all over again.

Not mad about it as long as we end up together.

Almost the entire car ride is silent. Us in the same spot about to spend an evening together speaks for itself. This isn't a fling anymore. We coat-checked fling at the door. Brooks squeezes my hand in his. HOLDING HANDS WHO ARE WE. We are excited. We are oddly calm. There's almost an unspoken recognition between us.

What started as a summer hook-up between exes became 'hey, let me fly to Seattle for a Thanksgiving quickie' and is now about to play out the age-old story of Baby It's Cold Outside.

It's become routine. A fucking cray routine. We are flat out swimming from the shallow end and not sure I can tread the deep end long-term. Not sure I want to.

My neck jerks back as Brooks slows the car. My mind is subsequently jerked back to the present. There is a line of taillights leading down the one-way street of the hotel. We slowly pull up and the valet ushers us out of the car and around the corner to the entrance across from the courtyard.

I step into the night with Brooks by my side.

"Look at this place. It's fucking wild. I hardly recognize it." Brooks says, staring out the window.

"Holy hell. Ladies and gentlemen, my mother. Not over-the-top at all." I laugh.

"It's so... bright. Shit ton of lights." Brooks starts across the cobblestones.

"It is the Light Festival to be fair."

"Thought it was a benefit," Brooks shrugs.

"It's both."

Still, I'm basically in the same awe that he is. The entire promenade, courtyard, and cobblestone square have all transformed. Picture the cheesiest scene from the most overdone chick-flickiest romance movie with a painstakingly predictable plot you never wanted. Now make it in Christmas land. That's the Light Festival Benefit.

TV Movie Starter Pack. It has all your basics: Crowded Cobblestone Main Street, Picturesque Town Square, Tree Lighting in the Center, Horse-Drawn Carriages, Light Festooned Gazebo, and Holly Garland crisscrossing from building to building.

The B&B is decorated in similar fashion. I cling to Brooks as we step inside. I'm aware that everyone seems to be looking at us. Kids, semi-adults, actual adults –parents. Mine to be exact. His mother. Really it feels like everyone is just looking at us as we walk into the main hall.

"Brooks, it's great to see you again! Look how old you got! Hello honey," my mom says, hugging both of us in the entrance.

"It's great to see you too," Brooks tells my mother. "Nice wreaths."

"Thank you," she laughs, shooting me an evil eye. I shrug.

"Anne, there you are! You wouldn't believe what they have back in the kitchen." A woman in a floor-length black gown appears at my mom's side.

"One second," my mother says to the woman before turning to us. "Please escort yourselves into the ballroom. I think Trix and Travis are already in there," my mother says. "Here, carry this in for me."

She gives me a silver tray of extra folded napkins. Brooks takes it from me and walks toward the ballroom.

It's off the side of the lobby and slightly down the stairs so a wide balcony overlooks the dance floor. There're even more white lights inside and wreaths and mistletoe bunches hung in every single doorway.

Brooks raises his eyebrow when we walk under the third one. "Not a chance," I mouth to him. Like I'm going to kiss him in front of two hundred people. People we know!

"Your loss," he smirks.

"I'll live."

There's a short cocktail hour similar to a wedding. Appetizers and hors d'oeuvres and drinks. Signature drink is a cranberry mule. I just taste Fireball. The dinner is a sit down and luckily we are with Trix and Travis and two other 'couples' I don't know by name. The four of us are the youngest by far. Trix and Travis came because her mother works with my aunt on the charity committee. No Meg. No Nate or Alex or anyone else. Just us and I must say it's oddly relaxing just the four of us.

Dinner is either salmon or some crazy Cornish hen shit that still has feathers on it. I decide if I don't eat it'll only benefit me. The wine will work quicker.

In fact, it already is working. I look at Brooks next to me, smirking under the glow of the centerpieces, and I can't help but think of last night. His face looked the same under the icicle lights pouring in my window. It comes back to me: His broken voice, his shaking hands, us just lying there in silence together.

Powerful shit. Almost puts it into perspective, ya know? Like you don't really know someone until they show up in your room at 12:00 AM –until you don't sleep together but actually sleep together –until the silence says everything for you.

Yea, I'm getting all this from one look.

"Do you guys wanna dance?" Trix asks, standing from the seat next to me.

"Um," I say looking at Brooks. He shakes his head. "No. That's OK. You two go."

"Suit yourself." Trix spins away, pulling Travis's hand. He leaves a minty trail in his wake.

"So you still hate dancing?" I ask Brooks, folding my napkin over my plate.

"I never hated dancing," he says like he's reminding me of something I should know.

"Yea, right. That's why I had to force you to dance with me at prom. BOTH proms," I say, laughing.

"You did not. We danced," Brooks says, rolling his eyes. "We danced a lot."

"As a group..." I trail off. "You hid every time a slow song came on."

"OK, so I don't slow dance. It's all formal and shit. I can't waltz like that."

I roll my eyes at him. "So yes, you still hate dancing."

He shrugs, examining his silverware. Brooks is staring down at his hands, still raw from yesterday. He's running his left hand over his knuckles.

"You might like it, you know. Come on," I whine.

"Not happening. Dance yourself if you want to," he says, all grumpy and shit.

"Rude." I say, trying to touch his arm.

"Whatever." He leans back in his chair and stretches his legs out. Bro stance. His eyes close and he massages his temples with his fingers.

"Are you OK?" I find myself asking before I wise up and realize it's a terrible question to ask. Especially here.

"Fine," he says, quiet and cool. Q & C. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You don't really seem fine," I say. I'll call him out, call his bluff. Zero problem doing that.

He looks up at me from under heavy lids. Shit, I guess he hardly slept last night. "What do you want me to say, Em? That I'm not fine?"

"No. I just meant that –I mean you can talk to me. You know, if you want." I lean in a little. The other couples are gone, but the table next to us is still full.

"Can I?" He says, pretty harshly IMO.

"What's that supposed to me?" I narrow my eyes.

"Nothing, forget it."

"No, tell me," I insist.

"You just," he pauses, looking around. It's too bad for him the words aren't written on the gold plate chargers. "You just disappear. For weeks. We don't talk and then we do and –and..."

He looks away. I try not to laugh in my confusion.

"I don't disappear. We just don't talk –I mean –We're not... How is this my fault, Brooks?" I ask.

"It's not," Brooks says, standing up. "It's mine."

"Oh come on," I say, about to stand up with him.

"Just, don't follow me."

He walks away, moody Brooks in control again. He walks straight through the dance floor, past Trix and Travis and my parents. I'm left sitting in my spot at the table, playing with the hem of the tablecloth. Everyone else is dancing, enjoying the open bar, and getting caught under the mistletoe. Not me. Not us.

Shocked.

I don't care where he goes. He can leave and pout somewhere all night for all I care.