*Christian Fantasy*
Christmas—the time of year when the Martinez / Morales family watched the cheesiest movies and made jokes about them. Well, at least I did.
"Miguel!" I shouted as my brother continued to scroll through the movie selections on Netflix. "Can you just choose a movie already?"
"I'm trying to pick one you won't crack on the entire time; it's hard to enjoy a movie if you're always pointing out its flaws!" my brother said as he continued to search for the perfect Christmas movie for us to watch.
Miguel, my friend Mike, and I would stay up late watching corny Christmas movies on Christmas Eve, which was also actually Christmas since we didn’t finish until past midnight. After the big Christmas Eve dinner with the entire family and the exchange of gifts, everyone went home except for Mike, who stayed to watch movies with us.
Mike and I met a few years back in church, and we’d been close ever since. So close that he felt like part of the family. We had shared many memorable moments together, from attending family gatherings to going on vacations. Mike was one of us.
My parents went to bed while me, Mike, and Miguel continued our tradition of bashing corny movies on Christmas Eve.
"Let's just watch a classic,” Mike said, clearly irritated with the amount of time it took to choose a movie. You would think with all the options that it would be a simple task, but nope. Not in this house, and not with the three of us.
"Nooo," I groaned. “Not Elf again," I said, knowing what he was hinting at selecting. I didn't mind that movie, but just didn’t feel like it tonight. I wanted to make fun of a movie, and I couldn't do that with this movie; it was just too funny.
"What? Why not? " Mike said.
"How about Braveheart?" I offered. Another movie I couldn't make fun of.
"That's not a Christmas movie," Miguel argued.
"Says you. I think it's perfect," I countered.
Mike laughed and snatched the remote from Miguel's hands. "I'll put an end to this." He scrolled down to some Christmas princess movie and pressed the play button. "Problem solved."
"Seriously?" both Miguel and I said in unison. I mean, it was definitely a movie I could make fun of, but I knew it just meant Mike wanted to take a nap.
Mike grinned and settled next to me on the sofa, wrapping an arm around me. Mike and I had been friends for a long time, and he always had a knack for settling disputes with his sense of humor.
As the movie started, we all settled in for a cozy Christmas movie night, grateful for our enduring friendship and shared cheesy moments.
During the movie, Mike began stroking my arm gently, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down my spine, making it hard to focus on the movie. I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel nice.
Mike's touch became more intimate, his fingers delicately tracing patterns on my skin. The sensation was electrifying, bringing a rush of emotions that made it impossible to resist the urge to lean closer to him.
I caught my brother watching me out of the corner of my eye, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. Embarrassed, I quickly pulled away from Mike, hoping Miguel hadn't noticed. I didn't want Miguel to think there was something going on between me and Mike. Because there wasn't; we were friends, and that was it.
It didn't matter how his touch made my body tingle or how his presence made my heart race; I had to maintain the boundaries of our friendship. Mike and I were just familiar with each other, and I was pretty sure he didn't see me in a romantic way.
"Why’d you move? Now you made me cold." Mike said, attempting to pull me back to him.
I smiled nervously, trying to brush off his comment. "Oh, I just needed some space to stretch," I replied as I stretched out my arms over my head.
"You done?" he asked, his lips curving into a playful smirk. He pulled me back to him, then wrapped his arms around my waist. "You keep me warm," he whispered, his warm breath tickling my ear.
I couldn't help noticing my brother's grin as he watched us from across the room. It was clear that he found my obvious discomfort amusing, but I chose to ignore his teasing and focused on the movie.
As the movie played on, I couldn't help but feel grateful for moments like these, where laughter and warmth filled the room, creating memories that I knew would last a lifetime.
There was something else Mike brought with his gentle stroking: tingles. His touch sent a shiver down my spine, awakening a new and unexpected feeling within me. It was as if his touch had unlocked a hidden connection between us, deepening our bond beyond friendship. In that moment, I realized that our relationship had the potential to evolve into something more meaningful and romantic, at least for me.
But I wouldn't cross that line with him. Mike was one of my best friends. Besides, I didn’t think Mike liked me in that way. I was not like the girls he had dated in the past; I'd always been one of the guys, and Mike was like a brother to me— to both Miguel and me.
I valued our platonic bond too much to jeopardize it for the sake of a potential relationship. And if it didn't work out, what would that mean for my brother and Mike? I couldn't bear the thought of causing any tension or awkwardness between them.
Miguel needed someone like Mike around. As close as we were, I knew I could never be the brother he needed. Miguel was going through some stuff—stuff he wasn't sharing with me. But I hoped he would open up to Mike about it, like he had done in the past.
My brother had been flaking in school, coming home late, and barely going to church with us. I just knew something was up with him. So, it was better to keep things as they were between Mike and me, and cherish the strong bond we already had, for Miguel's sake.
As I had anticipated, Mike dozed off halfway through the movie, so Miguel and I went into the kitchen. "In the mood for some leftovers?" Miguel asked.
"Sure, just potato salad, though," I said, sitting down at the counter island while Miguel got the tray out of the fridge and set it in front of me. I took one of the paper plates and served myself and Miguel. Miguel dug in, and I couldn't help but smile at him.
I was two years older than him, but he was my best friend. I could tell him anything, and he always talked to me about things that we could never tell our parents. But lately, I felt like he was keeping secrets, and I didn't like that.
"What's going on with you?" I asked after scooping a spoonful of my potato salad. "You've been so distant lately."
He stared at his plate, pushing around his food. "Aren't I allowed to have some secrets from you, big sis?"
"Have we ever?"
He shook his head. "I just have a few things to sort out, Marissa. I don't want to drag you into it until I know what I'm going to do."
"Are you in trouble, Miguel? Because you know I got your back. I’ll get the bat, and we'll face whoever—"
He cut me off with his laugh. "No, Marissa, the bat isn't necessary. I just need a job; I need to prepare for my future."
"Miguel, you're eighteen. Stop cutting school, and in a few months, if you don't want to go to college, then you can get a job. But you're almost done; finish and get your high school diploma at least."
He sighed. "I know. I just need a plan."
"Ok, as long as this plan has nothing to do with Maria," I said, knowing he'd always had a crush on Maria from church. But that girl had issues, and I was very protective of my brother.
Miguel laughed. "It doesn't, but now that you bring it up, she is pretty hot, right?"
"Trust me, little brother, you're not her type."
"How would you know? You're not even friends with her. Besides, I think that phase is over. She's ignored me too many times."
Good, I thought. I never would have approved of their relationship if it had made it to that point. "I think Mike is more her type anyway, no offense," I told him.
"Whose type am I?" Mike asked as he entered the kitchen. His black T-shirt clung to his muscular tatted frame, accentuating his rugged good looks. We were friends, but I wasn’t blind.
I froze. I wasn't expecting him to be up, much less listening in, and I hoped he hadn’t caught me ogling. "We were just discussing Miguel's crush on Maria."
"And Marissa thought Maria would prefer you over me,” Miguel jumped in. He flexed his muscles, and he puffed his chest out in a playful manner.
Mike raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Well, I guess we'll never know unless Maria tells us herself," he said with a smirk. "But Maria's definitely not my type." His gaze lingered on me a bit longer than usual.
I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks as Mike's gaze intensified. His words caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but wonder if there was a hidden meaning behind them.
He took the stool beside me, scooting it closer as he took the spoon from my hand, then scooped up some potato salad from my plate and popped it into his mouth. "You know, I've always preferred someone with a bit more substance," he said, his eyes locked with mine.
His actions and words left me both flustered and intrigued, and I wondered if there was a chance for something more between us.
Miguel cleared his throat, drawing our attention and making us break eye contact. I was grateful for the interruption; Mike was acting strange. Give me a bat and throw a baseball at me; that's the type of girl I was, not the one who got hit on by her best friend in front of her little brother.
As Miguel began speaking, I started to feel relief. It was as if his presence reminded me of the boundaries that existed between Mike and me. However, deep down, I couldn't shake off the lingering curiosity about what had sparked this sudden change in Mike's behavior.
"So, what are we watching next?" Miguel asked as he stood up. "Unless you’d rather stay in here flirting with each other." He chuckled as he walked back into the living room, leaving Mike and me alone.
Mike smiled, then grazed his fingers over mine as he took the plate from me and tossed it in the garbage. I laid my head on top of my arms that rested on the island, feeling unsure about what had just happened.
When Mike came back my way, he grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the living room. "You know how your brother loves to tease, but it's cute to see that under all that tough exterior of yours, you have a soft side too," he said, his voice filled with warmth.
We sat on the sofa. This time Mike in the corner, and he pulled me to his side, cuddling me gently. As we sat there, I couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and security in his embrace. It was in that moment that I realized how lucky I was to have someone like Mike by my side, someone who understood and accepted all sides of me, even the vulnerable ones.
Christmas morning, I woke up and went in search of Miguel. He must've snuck off to his room when Mike and I were asleep. He was breathing deeply, resting his hand on the edge of his dresser mirror, and staring into it when I pushed his door open.
"Miguel, are you ok?" I asked, rushing toward him.
He nodded. "Yeah, I'm ok. I was just catching my breath."
"Asthma?"
He shrugged.
Miguel suffered from asthma as a kid, but as he grew up, it wasn't as bad. He had learned how to manage it and had become more resilient. However, there were still moments when his asthma would flare up, reminding us all of his vulnerability.
Seizures were another ailment he suffered from, but thankfully, he had not had one since he was ten years old. Still, I worried they would return.
"Miguel, talk to me. I know something is going on." I pleaded with him to open up to me.
He pushed away from the dresser and moved toward his bed, grabbing his football. He laid back and started tossing the football up. It was then I noticed the ink around his forearm. When did he get that tattoo?
"Rissa, I'm fine, really." He sat up and said, "Just know that I'm happy; I just have to figure out some stuff, ok?"
He only called me Rissa, his nickname for me when we were alone or when he wanted to remind me of our close bond. But I wasn’t about to let the nickname distract me from the question circling my mind.
“When did you get a tattoo?”
He froze, his arm stiff as he held the football above him. “A few weeks ago,” he answered.
“Why, Miguel? Dad is going to kill you.” I scolded. “You know how he is about tattoos and piercings.”
Miguel sat up and faced me. “I was in a mood, and I got it done. Besides, Mike is all tatted and pierced, and I don’t see Dad upset about that.” He countered.
“Mike is different. For one, Mike isn’t Dad’s son. And two, his parents were aware of them. You just did it and didn’t tell anyone, not even me,” I said, feeling hurt by all the secrets he’s been keeping lately.
Miguel sighed heavily. I could tell there was more than he was letting on, but I respected his need for space. "Alright, Miguel," I said softly, "just remember that I'm here for you whenever you're ready to talk."
"Yeah, me too," Mike interrupted, startling me.
I looked back at him and had a thought. "So, Mom and Dad should be up soon," I said, turning to face my brother again. "I'm going to help them with breakfast. You two, talk.”
As I turned to leave the room, I looked at Mike to make sure he understood that I needed him to help Miguel open up.
Mike nodded in understanding. I touched his shoulder on my way out, sliding my hand down his tatted arm and to his hand, giving him a gentle squeeze. Mike squeezed my hand in return, causing me to look at him.
His eyes were hiding something, too. When he opened his mouth to speak, I thought he would admit that our relationship had altered, but all he said was, "Merry Christmas, Marissa."
What was I expecting? We were friends, and that's all we would ever be.
I gave him a tight-lipped smile and said, "Merry Christmas, Mike."
Our eyes were still fixed on each other, maybe longer than they should be, because Miguel groaned, "I'm here too, guys."
"Merry Christmas, Miguel," we both said as we turned and launched ourselves toward him, tackling him in a playful hug as he scrambled to get away from us.
The three of us laughed as we wrestled on the floor, caught up in the joy of the holiday season.
It was a moment of pure friendship and camaraderie, reminding us that sometimes the best gifts in life are the connections we share with others.
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