Page 39 of The Nightmare Before Kissmas
Hex and I are on the side of the room. And I must be giving off some seriousback the fuck upvibes, because no more Christmas aristocracy come forward for pleasantries, so we are, effectively, alone.
I go stock-still. Hex stands there too, being this insanely attractive mash-up of a pirate and a vampire and Loki from that one scene inThor: Ragnarokwhen he’s in New York and first had me realizing that I was, in fact, deeply attracted to dudes in addition to girls. Both Iris and Kris thought I was nuts when, according to them, “Chris Hemsworth is right there.” We mended this falling-out in our friendship by bonding over the great sexuality equalizer: Cate Blanchett in leather.
Never let it be said that I have no self-control, because even as the silence stretches between me and Hex, I donottalk about any of these internal pirate/vampire/Loki/leather thoughts.
It’s Hex who breaks the never-ending nothingness when his face goes from patiently studying me to tight in exasperation.
“We are rivals, it seems.” He pockets his hands.
It drags a laugh out of me.Rivals.That’s how Dad wants me to react to Hex. But I can’t summon up any scrap of fake offense, can’t get myself to stop following the rim of his eyeliner around his still very attractive eyes.
Eyes that are crooked in annoyance.
Not in surprise.
“You’re not surprised to see me.” It pops out before I can stop it.
“The Christmas Prince, at the Christmas palace?” His voice is steel. “Hardly.”
“No, I mean—me.”
Glasses clink around us. Someone laughs across the room. And Hex keeps giving me that unimpressed stare.
He probably wasn’t an absolute idiot and researched Christmas before coming here, so he knew we’d see each other again—
But then he says, “I was wondering if the infamous Prince Nicholas would remember.”
And something in his tone makes my whole brain overturn.
“You—you knew, back then, who I was.” I say each word purposefully, making sure I’m getting this becausewhat the fuck.“Youknew.”
“Of course.” A pause, and his eyes narrow. “Are you saying you did not know whoIwas?”
“No! I mean, yes, I didn’t know who you were. How—how were youthere?” I angle closer, whisper-hissing my shock down at him. “You just—youhappenedto be atmy bar,and youhappenedto come out intothat alley,and—”
His face contorts like he’s seeing that night through a new lens, but a foggy lens, one that doesn’t make anything clearer. “You expect me to believe you did not have the slightest idea who I was?” He blinks and points to the stage. “And you did not realize it untilthat moment?”
His tone ofare you a moronis deserved, but still stings.
“I thought you were like a bartender or something.” Heat wells inmy chest, making my ribs feel brittle and unable to expand enough. “I’ve spent a year and a half thinking you were either some normal guy that I’d never be able to find again or a very vivid figment of my imagination.”
He arches one brow. “You’ve spent the past year and a half thinking about me?”
Well fuck. “I—” Nope, let’s just lean into it. “You thought I’d forget you?”
“I thought Prince Nicholas had enough dalliances that one kiss would be quickly overlooked.”
It wasn’t just a kiss. I mean, the kiss was great, but it was everything else too, how he’d let me dump all my shit out and he’d listened and said exactly what I needed to hear.
I almost tell him all of that. How much that single interaction meant to me. But I’m already way too close to humiliating myself.
“I don’t havedalliances,” I hook on instead.
It’s not a far jump from stupid pranks and irresponsibility to sleeping around, and the tabloids have warped every person I’ve dated the past few years into some kind of scandalous relationship or one-night stand. Some of them were. But still. I’m a hellion, but I’m not heartless.
Hex’s stare is full of incredulity. “Ah. My apologies. You are, of course, madly in love with Princess Iris.”
There’s something baited in his voice, but I don’t want to talk about Iris, can’t, not with all the unanswered questions welling up in me and the still-potent fact that he’shere.He’sthatguy, and he’s here, in front of me, and instead of flirting my ass off to make up for being a drunk idiot last time, I’m scrambling to find sense in the senseless.
