Page 10 of Holly Ever After

I bark a laugh, pleased that I can still get a rise out of her. “Touched a nerve, did I?”

She rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath, but she doesn't respond. Instead, she huffs and turns her attention back to her laptop, her fingers now flying across the keys.

Inspired or not, she's writing, and that means she's too busy to supervise me. Perfect.

Six

Holly

Ican't believe I'm waiting for Sean Colson. And he's late. According to my mom, he's inundated with work. So why, pray tell, is he gracing me with his ever-irritating presence?

When he finally walks in—tools in tow and flannel shirt screaming “I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay”—he doesn't even greet me.

“I don't suppose you're ever on time.” I can't help myself.

“Time is a social construct,” he retorts, avoiding eye contact.

“Really? And here I thought it was a unit to measure the passing of life, something we all have a limited amount of.”

As he turns to me, I'm reminded of how much he towers over me, a little imposing in a way that's strangely familiar. It's no wonder I could never keep a boyfriend in high school. Between Mark, my over-protective brother, and Sean, his intimidating best friend, potential boyfriends didn't stand a chance.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? You’re the one that’s late. Walking in here like—”

He looks at me, eyes narrowing, before striding over, placing his thumb and index finger on my lips, and pressing them together.

“You hear that, Squirt? Silence. It's bliss.”

I swat his hand away. “Did you just silence me? Like, physically silence me?”

His action brings back memories of a thousand little arguments—of him hiding my favorite books just to get a rise out of me, of the shared Sunday dinners when we couldn't look at each other without squabbling over the mashed potatoes. In those moments, I hated him the most.

I’m reminded of when I hit puberty, and I might have had a mild, teeny tiny little crush on him.

Okay, it was huge. I swear it consumed my life for an entire year. I lost so much oxygen in that year from holding my breath when he looked at me that it’s obviously affected my adult life.

I got over my crush… eventually. I mean, I’m a grown woman. I can admit that Sean is hot, but it would give me so much more satisfaction to just kick him in the balls.

He shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. “I'm giving you a sample of what I enjoy—silence.”

I feel my face redden. “I don't recall inviting you here to enjoy yourself.”

“I don't need to be here, Holly. Got plenty of other things to occupy my time.”

“Then why are you here?” I'm seething but also genuinely curious. “Please, go do those other things.”

He sighs, his demeanor changing for just a moment as he scrubs a hand over his face. It's then that I notice his work attire—a faded navy flannel shirt over a white tee, dark work pants, and steel-toed boots. There's something unexpectedly appealing about a man in work clothes. It's annoying how attractive it is, and that realization makes me even more infuriated.

Ignoring my directive, he turns his back to me and gets on with his work.

“Fine.” I grab my coat and keys and head for the door. “I'm going into town. Enjoy your precious silence.”

He grunts, which I interpret as a goodbye in 'Seanese'.

I step out, welcoming the fresh air as a temporary escape from the intensity inside. In town, Pine Falls is in its full festive glory—a stark contrast to the atmosphere I left behind.

I find myself inside a quaint little bookstore. The owner has me sign some of my books he has in store and take a picture for social media which makes me smile. The familiar smell of paper and ink brings a sense of comfort. I’ve done countless press tours, but there’s something about being home, in this little bookstore and seeing my books on the shelves that always brings me the most pride.

Perhaps a new book will be a suitable distraction. Yet even as I leaf through the pages of a promising mystery novel, my mind can't help but drift back to Sean. The sight of him in his work clothes, his unshaved jaw, even the arrogant way he smirked at me—everything floods back, and I'm annoyed with myself for even letting him invade my thoughts.

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