All you want for the hol.., p.10
All You Want for the Holidays,
p.10
“Hey, don’t fall asleep again. We have things to do today,” I say into her hair.
“Like what?” she questions with a muffled, defiant tone.
“Finishing our projects, having some food to eat.”
“We have all day and tomorrow.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. We laze around too much today, then we’re spending most of tomorrow packing up and in the car home. We should make the most of these precious hours.”
“Just last night you were telling me how happy you were about letting loose and enjoying yourself.” She snickers and I roll my eyes. That was different. “And you’re the one who got back into bed~”
Perrin wins ‘five more minutes’. It ends up being eight, but she becomes more enthused when I mention the idea of cooking breakfast together. We race to the bathroom and brush our teeth, and then make our way downstairs.
We go all out for breakfast, frying up eggs, bacon, chorizo, mushrooms, tomatoes, and spinach. Hashbrowns crisp up in the oven while Perrin is plating everything up with some toast.
It’s domestic—exactly what I didn’t want with Perrin when we first got here. But now, I’m glad that we’re sharing these moments. Cooking together after spending the night in each other’s arms, or mouths, makes perfection.
At the outdoor dining table, we sit side-by-side. Our elbows touch as we eat our food and let the flavours of our fried-up breakfast melt together. I chop everything up into small pieces so that my forkfuls have as many flavours as I can pick up. On the other hand, Perrin stacks her breakfast haphazardly onto a singular slice of toast, with little care for distribution, and lifts the mountain to her mouth, letting whatever falls become the toppings of her next slice.
“So, who were you on the phone with this morning?” Perrin asks as she mops her plate with bread. “Was it Leila?”
“How did you know?” Finished with my meal, I push the plate to the side and prop my elbow onto the table with the side of my head in my hand.
She gives me a smile with rosy cheeks. “It was either the shouting coming from your phone, or the fact that I know Leila is one of the only people you like to call.”
“I believe you’re going off some outdated information there, but I’ll let it pass this time because you’re right.”
“Well, duh, I’m right!”
“Don’t start keeping tally.” I raise my brows and grab the napkin my cutlery is sitting on, using the clean side to wipe the corner of Perrin’s lips.
As I put the napkin back on the table, Perrin looks away with a shy smile. Her hands go to intertwine as they usually do, but this time she pauses, and then reaches out towards me. I look at her hand curiously before taking it in mine. Our fingers thread together.
“Hey,” she whispers, staring at our hands.
“Hey,” I respond, the corner of my lip twitching into a lopsided smile.
She shuffles her chair closer to me. “I just wanted to mention something… it’s kinda related to how things turned out at the end of high school and what I mentioned in my text yesterday.”
My shoulders tense and my smile drops. I don’t realise that my grip has tightened on her hand until she starts flexing her fingers as a subtle notice. I relax my hand, but my lips stay sealed, unsure of how to respond or what to expect. I know in my mind that nothing bad is going to happen; my heart doesn’t seem to agree.
“Nari,” she mumbles, bringing her face closer and looking into my eyes. I stare back at her. The genuine concern in her gaze helps to calm my racing heart. She starts doing that thing again where her pupils dart from side-to-side, reading me. “I know you don’t do well with rejections or things that seem like rejection. I want you to know that this isn’t a rejection and it doesn't change anything about my utter love for you.”
The words are surprising to hear. No one has ever said that prior to revealing their “we need to talk” subject of conversation. I still blamed myself for the way my body locks up at the slightest appearance of critique. I don’t like knowing that words could hurt me. But, with Perrin, I am safe and oddly comforted to start working on this.
“You’re right,” I say, to assure myself just as much as acknowledge Perrin’s kind words. “You are very right, and I can appreciate that.”
She leans forward and gives me a kiss on the cheek and just as I chase a kiss on the lips, she pulls away with a soft look.
Her thumb runs over the side of my finger, our hands still connected. “I noticed that we have a bit of a problem when we make assumptions about each other. How you may have assumed my feelings towards you when I wasn’t ready, and how I assumed you would remain this perfect image of a best friend that was based on only my thoughts and needs. We both became frustrated when we didn’t meet our expectations… I really hope I’m not assuming too much right now, either.”
There’s this nature to her words that makes them so obvious yet so important to bring up. Yesterday was the first time I learnt of Perrin’s feelings about what happened. She might even have more that she would share in her own time.
I nod. “I know what you mean. Isn’t that what they say about communication being key in a relationship?”
Perrin shrugs. “Not everyone knows what that means. I would even say some people use it as an argument.”
“I hope we never do,” I say, bringing the back of her hand to my lips. “I think even if I didn’t realise it in the moment, it helped a lot when you told me how you felt. That just means I should ask you questions more often—about how you feel, what you’re thinking.”
If I were in younger Perrin’s position, the day of the initial confession, perhaps I would’ve done the same as her. I have trouble picking up signs of other people’s feelings, especially when they come down to feelings about me. If my best friend suddenly confessed to me one day, with all the pressure of giving an immediate response, then I would make the safest choice I could at the time. Sometimes that is “no”.
“Why wonder about how I’m feeling if you can just ask me, right?”
“Right.”
With a promise to commit to communicating and an apology on behalf of my younger self, I give her a kiss to seal the deal. It’s gentle and forgiving, and the tension in my shoulders melt away. Everything, even cleaning the dishes, is better with Perrin around.
I feel less jittery about finishing my project once we’re both in the studio space again. Our crafts are easy to slip into. I set my laptop up and reread the last chapter I wrote. I’m at the cusp of finishing this draft. It’s messy, underwritten, and has continuity errors, and there’s a very strong urge to start editing right now, but the work is mine and I wrote it all while here in the Sunlit Creative Space.
When I’m ready for a writing sprint, I put on my headphones and hit play on the book’s playlist. Two chapters to go. The most satisfying chapters for how they make all the ends meet, yet the scariest for how they require me to actually know the ending of my book.
The space around me shifts into the setting of the final scene. My fingers fly over the keyboard. I skip to the next song when the current one doesn’t capture the action, the atmosphere, the characters. A word gets stuck on the tip of my tongue, so I seek out my internet browser for an “another word for” search.
As I’m reaching the end of a chapter, the doorbell rings downstairs.
I look up from my screen and slip off my headphones. My gaze finds Perrin who has her printed photos laid out on her table. A select few are set to the side, perhaps for her main collection.
I check the time. It’s been a few hours. I definitely haven’t been drinking enough water.
“I can go get that,” I say to Perrin, putting my headphones on the table and standing up.
“Not if I get it first!” She hops up from her chair and bolts down the stairs in front of me.
I stare after her, my mind still catching up with what just happened, and then shake my head. She always was a bit more competitive than she realised.
Perrin opens the door, letting in a burst of light and summer heat. Spending our time in an air-conditioned villa makes it easy to forget how hot it is outside. Sitting on the front step is a basket with two wrapped presents and a card on top that reads “Wishing you a Happy Holidays”. Perrin and I glance at each other and back to the mysterious delivery.
“Is this for us?” Perrin asks, crouching down to pick up the basket.
As she brings it inside, I close the door behind her. She sets it on the living room coffee table and we both take a seat.
“I… think so.”
I pick up the card. The inside reads:
To my Sunlit Residents, Perrin and Inari,
May this day bring you many blessings.
Please do accept my gifts as a show of good spirit.
Much love,
Thalia Ainsworth x
“They’re from Thalia,” I say, unable to contain the smile on my face.
“What! She’s already given us so much, though.” Perrin pouts at the gifts. “I don’t wanna open them.”
“It might be worse if we return them.” I grab the present closest to me. Both of them are rectangular but this one is wide and thin. The sticker on the wrapping paper says it’s for Perrin. “This one’s yours.”
I hand it over and Perrin holds it as reverently as she does her camera. She tries shaking it, as one does when trying to work out what a present is, but that doesn’t reveal anything.
After a moment of quiet gratitude, Perrin tears the wrapping paper apart, revealing the glossy cover of an abstract photography book underneath. She stands up, holding the book out with two hands, her face in a state of shock.
Then she squeals, jumping from foot-to-foot, before she shoves the book in my face.
“I’ve been looking for this everywhere!” She squeals again.
I chuckle and gently push the book back towards her. “Is it popular?”
“Not really popular, not even expensive, but it had a really small print run. At this point, you’d have to know someone to get one.”
I lean over and pick up the other present, and double check that it has my name on it. It certainly does, bringing warmth to my heart. The present weighs a bit heavier than Perrin’s, and it’s thicker too. I find an edge of the wrapping paper held down by sticky-tape and start by peeling it back. I aim to preserve such beautiful, subtly-patterned purple wrapping paper.
I feel something cool, smooth, and flat, yet neither glossy or matte, under my fingertips. Perrin puts her photo book to the side as I fully unveil the present. It’s a leather-bound journal, engraved with the words “Sunlit Creative” in the top right corner, with a sun-shaped charm tied to the spine with some leather ribbon.
I run my fingers over the cover, taking in the craftsmanship. I undo the brass buckle that keeps the book closed with a leather belt and flip through the pages. While the edges are ragged, the paper is nice and thick, equipped for an ink-dipped quill or an everyday ballpoint pen.
“Wow…” is all I can think to say. My hands are shaking with excitement.
“That looks so cool!” Perrin exclaims as she grabs my arm excitedly.
“I’ve never had one of these before.”
I whip out my phone and put it on the table as I dial Miss Ainsworth. She picks up only three seconds after that.
“Merry Christmas, lovely folks. Did you like your presents?” Her voice is chipper and proud.
“They’re wonderful, Miss Ainsworth.”
I bring my new journal to my chest and then kiss Perrin on the cheek.
The rest of the night is a race to the finish line. We take breaks to have afternoon tea and dinner, but otherwise we’re determined to call our projects finished (for now).
Typing out the final scene is nerve-wracking and I rely on my laptop screen and a lamp for light to minimise any distractions around the room. Perrin, very considerately, is washing the dishes downstairs after she’s completed her photo binder collection and framed the winning photo set.
The finale of my manuscript is coming together. One sentence comes after another, a word after word, until…
The only words left to type are THE END.
“I’m done!” I yell, loud enough so Perrin can hear. She responds with a cheer from the kitchen.
I sit back in my chair with a sigh, hitting save on my document twice, just in case, before closing the program and then my laptop.
We tidy up what we can around the house and start getting ready for bed. We take it slow, with purpose. As much as we’re tempted to stay up so that we don’t miss out on any extra moments we can afford here, we change our minds once we’re tucked into bed and in each other’s arms again.
I run my hand across Perrin’s cheek and she leans into the touch.
“Are you happy with how everything went?” I whisper to her, as if anyone could hear us.
“It’s all I could ever want,” she replies with her big brown eyes staring at me. She’s even prettier than the last time I saw her.
“I doubt that.”
“Then it’s all I wanted for the holidays.”
As she gives me a sweet smile, I bring her face closer and kiss her. I kiss her like we aren’t going to kiss like this again, right here in this bed, in this room, in this house, at this residency. I hold her tight and don’t let go until she complains about being too hot.
Sleep takes us for the night and when morning comes again, we pack our things and have pancakes for breakfast. The doorbell rings at midday and we wonder why our drivers are early, only to be surprised by Miss Ainsworth in the flesh. She gives us big hugs and Perrin shows her the final photo set, which she hangs up in the studio for every resident to see.
I realise during the car ride home, as my thoughts and feelings catch up to me, that this was all I wanted for the holidays too.
Thank You For Reading
Thank you for reading All You Want for the Holidays!
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Get the first chapters of my other novels Tell Me How It Ends + Chrysalis and Requiem, plus a C&R bonus short at https://quintonli.com/bonus-content
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Home for the Holidays
A collection of standalone novellas connected by a singular theme: spreading queer joy during the holiday season
Havoc for the Holidays by Jay Leigh
All You Want for the Holidays by Quinton Li
A Handyman for the Holidays by Valerie Gomez
A Surprise for the Holidays by Anna Sparrows
Wrecked for the Holidays by Kerry Kilpatrick
Just for the Holidays by Micah Carver
A Kiss for the Holidays by C.S. Autumn
A Nightclub for the Holidays by Arden Coutts
A Crush for the Holidays by E.L. Ough
An Alpha for the Holidays by Emily Axon
Yule Be Home for the Holidays by Dallas Smith
Acknowledgements
I’d firstly like to thank Jay Leigh for coordinating this incredible project that has become the Home for the Holidays series. This is the first time I’ve been part of an anthology series and I’m so inspired. I’m grateful to be a writer you considered for a project like this. Thank you for believing in me.
Next, I’d like to thank my fellow Home for the Holidays authors: Valerie Gomez, Anna Sparrows, Kerry Kilpatrick, Micah Carver, C.S Autumn, Arden Coutts, E.L Ough, Emily Axon, and Dallas Smith. It is an honour to write and publish alongside you.
Special thanks to Micah Carver, the cover artist for All You Want for the Holidays and the rest of the books in the series. As well as to Dallas Smith for formatting everyone’s books. Our books look amazing!
Thank you to my beta readers for your dedication—Rita A. Rubin, A.D Barker, and Sarah Reifsnyder. This book is better because of you.
I’m grateful to my writer friends who were there for me while I was working out how to write a novella.
Thank you to every reader for giving my novella a chance (or a second chance).
Books by Quinton Li
Tell Me How It Ends
Chrysalis and Requiem
Devout: An Anthology of Angels
Quinton Li (they/them) is an award-winning non-binary author of fantastical, queer, and evocative narratives that represent underrepresented identities. They are the author of Tell Me How It Ends, and Chrysalis and Requiem, and the editor and curator of Devout: An Anthology of Angels. Their poetry can be found with Panorame Press, Messy Misfits Club and Iris Youth Magazine. Find more at quintonli.com
Instagram: @itsquinnli
Twitter: @itsquinnli
Quinton Li, All You Want for the Holidays
