Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
As if to signify how serious he is about our task, Nico’s dressed mostly in black, apart from his hat and jacket. Not a festive T-shirt in sight, no reindeer-patterned sweater, and no smile.
Two can play this game. So I refused to show him what clothes I chose in the only occasion wear store we found. I wasn’t being unfair about the nature of our relationship. The truth is that, unlike Nico, I am a realist, and see things for what they are. We might share some interests, and we might feel great in each other’s company in this honeymoon phase when all faults can be ignored and the sex is always great, but he and I have no future.
Carl’s betrayal broke something in me, and whenever I think about growing closer to anyone, all I see are deep shadows waiting to creep out and choke me when I least expect it. I need to learn how to live independently, but that doesn’t change the fact that I miss Nico’s dumb jokes or his touch. I know he’s withdrawn his attention to get back at me for what he surely perceives as rejection, but I’m not a child anymore and will not acknowledge how stupidly he’s behaving.
Though I am frustrated that he didn’t let me see the outfit he chose either. Because what if he picked out something garish, and we won’t be able to blend in at Carl’s party? For all I know, Nico could have bought a suit with a snowman pattern all over it, or something. Or I’m just being petty about it because I crave to see him in something hot and refined. As he pointed out, I do deceive myself sometimes, and pretending I don’t would only be another lie.
I guess I also miss how excitable he can be. If we weren’t stuck in this sour mood, I’m sure he would be chattering about the decorations in the mall, putting tinsel in my hair, making me try the local donuts with the misshapen antlers made of dough, or showing off the tie he’s bought.
And then I think of his helpless declaration of love for me in front of a man about to die, and my heart goes all mushy like a marshmallow in hot chocolate. But I wasn’t lying. We’ve known each other for two weeks. Maybe not even that long.
I’m annoyed when I find myself humming along with the melody coming from the speakers and shut myself up with the last gulp of hot chocolate, which I sip from a paper cup on a bench in front of an empty Santa’s Grotto. And right on time, because Nico is striding my way, tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome like some Hollywood A-lister. I throw my empty cup into the trash can and promise myself that I will not inquire what he has in the big paper bag he’s carrying.
I am not letting him win.
“I think we’re all set, unless you want to pick up some sugar-free snacks,” he says, standing next to me.
This is cold war on his part, because, as he pointed out, I do actually like the sugary snacks. He’s trying to force me to either admit it, or punish me by making me eat the thing I don’t want, just so I can keep up appearances. Pure psychological warfare, but what else should I expect from a sociopathic serial killer?
“I don’t think they have the stuff I want here,” I lie and turn on my heel, so he doesn’t have the opportunity to contradict me. There will be plenty of tasty treats at highway stops.
“Are you sure? I think I’ve seen some that said they’re gluten-free, sugar-free, lactose-free, high protein, and with carob nibs. You know, instead of chocolate bits.”
Oh, now this is cruel and unusual.
“See, I told you, you don’t know me all that well. I’m not gluten or lactose-free,” I tell him coldly and see his cheeks flush. I love the way he swallows, making that beautifully masculine throat move. I could lick his neck instead of any candy. But when he opens his mouth, a middle-aged woman in a glittery red sweater stops right next to us and covers her mouth with hands entwined as if she were about to pray.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but would you like to do a good deed, and earn some cash to spend on Christmas?” she asks Nico.
When he turns to her, a wide smile blooms on his lips, and it’s infuriating that she gets one and I don’t. Even though it’s fake.
“Oh, I’m not sure we have the time—”
She puts her hands up. “Just hear me out. I don’t see any kids with you so I was hoping you might be more available than some of the dads I asked. Our Santa didn’t show up for work.” She points to the grotto. “We only need a few hours of your time. And your friend could be an elf helper, if he wants.” She beams at me as if that’s a good offer. “All paid on the spot, after the job. What do you say? Will you save Christmas?” The lady laughs and pats Nico’s arms as my feet freeze to the floor. She said the magic words and I’m already cursing in my mind, because Nico has a hard-on for Christmas, and the fact that he’s even considering this is making me want to scream.