Page 81 of Habits

“Do you knock before going into my room?”

“I don’t go into your room.” I frown.

Why is he here again? Getting between me and the love of my life.

“Only when I’m not home so you can steal one of my hoodies.”

Gasping exaggeratedly, I look at him. “I do no such thing!”

Gray eyes keep staring at me.

“Okay, maybe on weekends.”

Shaking his head, he jumps on the bed.

“Whatcha watching?” Max looks over my shoulder at the show that’s still playing on my laptop. “Is that the vampire dude?”

I pause the show and close the screen of my laptop, turning around to look at him. “He’s not just some vampiredude. He’s Klaus-freaking-Mikaelson, the vampire king himself. Show some respect, dude.”

“Whatever.” Max ruffles my hair before jumping off the bed. His own hair is messy and still slightly wet from his shower. “The caterers are here. I suggest you put on somepresentableclothes, Mom’s words not mine, and come down.”

Sighing, I look at the laptop with longing. “Later.”

* * *

Dinner goes as smoothly as can be expected. Things are pretty tense in the beginning between Granny and my parents, but after a while the conversation starts to flow easier, mostly thanks to Max and his chattering between huge mouthfuls of food.

I nibble at my own dinner—turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and lots of vegetables—listening to them and participating when necessary. The caterers did a good job on the food, I have to give them that, but maybe it would have been fun if Granny, Mom and I had cooked dinner together. It’s been such a long time since we’ve done something together because wecaninstead of because wehaveto.

The image of Amelia and her mom from the first time I visited her house flashes in my mind. I can picture them together this time of year. Decorating the house, wearing those obnoxious Christmas sweaters, baking cookies and preparing dinner for family.

Their relationship is so easy, so natural. I’ve never seen anything like that. Never felt anything like that. Not with my mom. There was a time … a time when my dad and I were inseparable. A time when he was my hero and I wanted to be just like him when I grew up, but that has changed.

After dinner, we went to the living room, which was professionally decorated for the holidays. All the decorations are white and pale gold.

Classy and perfect.

We have red velvet cake before settling down and exchanging presents. And when everything is said and done, we retire to our rooms, too tired from the constant need to pretend everything is all right, while in reality, everything is falling apart.

* * *

Asshole: Merry Christmas, Princess.

My finger traces the words on the screen as a smile curls my lips.

Me: Merry Christmas to you too.

Me: What are you up to?

I leave my phone on the bed, rubbing my wet hair. I’m too lazy to dry it, but I know if I don’t, my head will hurt in the morning and I’ll have a nest on my head, so I grab my dryer and quickly work on drying it.

Ten minutes later I’m done. One of the benefits of having shoulder-length hair.

The light on my phone blinks, signaling a text message.

Asshole: Same old, same old.

Frowning I type back:Not doing anything special with your dad for the holidays?

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