Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“No more Snowflake. No more confusion. This never happened, and that’s that.”
I leave the office, my heart threatening to break out of my chest. When I return to my desk, it all feels like a dream. Years ago, I imagined kissing Asher. Then he returned, but I never imagined it would feel so perfect.
That evening, Asher eats at a restaurant. I think he’s avoiding the apartment. I get it.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss all day. He grabbed me like he owned me and wanted to unwrap me like a gift, spending the entire day obsessing over me. When he stepped back, I knew he wanted to do it again. He was struggling to maintain some semblance of control.
My phone buzzes. No, not mine. The Secret Santa one.
Surely, this proves that it’s not Asher. He wouldn’t be texting me after what happened if it were him. I thought he was going to stop me from leaving his office, grab me, and kiss me again. I told him I didn’t want him to, but I wouldn’t have been mad if he had. That’s pretty messed up.
My Secret Santa: Are you going quiet on me?
Me: I’ve already told you I need to know what you want for a gift, I reply.
I can’t flirt with my Secret Santa anymore. Well, I’m not sure I was ever flirting with him. I don’t want to flirt with anybody who isn’t Asher, so I’m destined to become a spinster and never find a man.
I don’t want anybody else if I can’t have my brother’s best friend.
My Secret Santa: You seem different.
Me: How could you possibly tell that through a text? I hammer the touchscreen keyboard so hard; it’s a miracle I don’t shatter it.
My Secret Santa: Texting can reveal more than a person might think, both in what they say and what they don’t. You usually seem filled with Christmas cheer.
Me: Perhaps I’m tired of faking it until I make it. Maybe I don’t want to be the human equivalent of a greeting card anymore. Sometimes, life gets complicated, and I don’t feel like performing for you, myself, or anybody.
I study the text, then delete it. Whoever this is, they don’t need me lumbering them with all my baggage.
My Secret Santa: You can get me a T-shirt, he texts.
Me: I thought that was a joke.
My Secret Santa: It doesn’t need to have a Christmas logo or slogan on it. We don’t need to text anymore, either.
Me: Are you pouting as you type this?
My Secret Santa: I don’t want to bother you if you don’t want to be bothered.
Me: Again, Secret Santa, I’m not sure how you know that—unless he is Asher.
CHAPTER 10
ASHER
Isit at the bar, sipping a whiskey. I’m not a big drinker, but my head is a mess.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking. That’s the point. I was alone with Holly, staring into her sassy eyes, listening to her self-confident words. Then, an avalanche triggered in me. All my noble ideas about self-restraint and ignoring my desires went right out the window.
I sip my whiskey, looking at her latest text. This is wrong. I’m still playing games. Texting her is almost as tempting as kissing her. I should ditch this Secret Santa phone, buy her some scented candles, and be done with it. Then I can pretend the kiss never happened, just like she said.
She looked so angry with me. Was she angry that I kissed her or that I wasn’t kissing her again?
She made a good point when I wanted to go into the office and give that Derek douchebag a dressing down. She anonymously submitted a video to get her job. She irrefutably doesn’t want anybody to think she’s getting special treatment.
Special treatment is all I want to give her, but not in a workplace sense.
I wonder if she’s suspecting who her Secret Santa is. Her text seems to hint at that, but I don’t want to tear off that Band-Aid and reveal the sore spot beneath. There’s too much baggage with Holly and me.
Even as I sip my whiskey, I taste her lips instead. Her mouth was immediately addicting. Her body made me want to be with just her, nobody else. I’m not saying I’m some lunatic becoming infatuated or anything like that.
In that moment, as we kissed, we felt trapped in a damn snow globe. I didn’t care and couldn’t think about anybody or anything else. It was like the future ceased to exist. The past didn’t matter. It was just us, all shaken up, the holiday spirit filling us up more than this booze.
“Another, sir?” the barman asks.
“No. Get me a Diet Coke, please.”
“Sure.”
The temptation for another drink is there. I won’t lie. All I’ve got to do is think about my childhood, and I find the willpower to temper those desires. If only it were as easy to control my desire for my best friend’s sister. My life would be a hell of a lot easier in that case.