Page 2 of The Mistletoe Bluff
Don’t punch him, Maya. It’s not worth it. Then you really won’t win.
I was sure there was some rule that would disqualify me if I got into a physical altercation with another contestant, and I definitely couldn’t affordthat.
What was with this man? Every time I saw him, he went out of his way to bug me. Whether it was teasing me like we were two kids in elementary school or looking over my shoulder at whatever I was working on—which I despised—or just generally being a turd, like just now with his tripping stunt. One time I had my hair in a topknot, and every time he’d pass by, he’d either swat it or squeeze it, like he couldn’t resist his inner childlike tendencies.
He never bothered our other classmates, and I swear from the first moment we met, he had decided to make it his life mission to annoy me. I wasn’t sure we had even had a full conversation the entire semester because any time we did talk, it consisted of him taunting me, then me telling him to shove it, and then him laughing and walking away.
I loathed Oliver Lewis.
I took a deep, calming breath, forcing my muscles to relax. I pushed a small smile to my lips with enormous effort and looked at Professor Wellotto.
She studied Oliver and I for a moment before turning to face the class. “As a reminder, the winner of this competition will receive an exclusive two-page spread in theIowa Artist Gazette, thereby having thousands of eyes on your photos. It’s a great honor, not to mention a potential career starter.” The professor paused. She swallowed, her throat making a sucking noise, letting the anticipation build for another moment.
This was it. Meridel had proved to be far too small to grow my business, and this was my last shot at making it here.Come on, please say my name.
“And the winner of the Meridel Community College photography competition is…”
The other six people in the room had their chins in their hands or rested their heads on their arms, not caring in the slightest about who won. I was pretty sure the guy in the back row, who I nicknamed Fabio thanks to his long blonde hair, was drooling all over the table as he slept on his textbook.
No one else cared about this, but I did. This was everything to me.
My fingers tingled at my sides, and I forced my attention back on the professor, willing her to say my name instead of Oliver’s.
Sweat pooled on my low back, and I held my arms together against my sides, hoping I didn’t have pit stains that would show my nerves. The clock over the door still ticked away, each beat like the blow of a hammer to my heart.
“Oliver Lewis!” The class flinched at how loud the professor’s declaration was before they gave a halfhearted applause.
All the air escaped my lungs in a whoosh. My stomach fell through my feet, through the three stories of the building, through concrete, dirt, grass, and earth, squashing and shattering into a million tiny pieces.
The sides of my vision went blurry, and I couldn’t bring myself to watch as Oliver stepped forward to shake the professor’s hand, nor could I look at the infernal smirk I imagined was on his face when he turned back to me, ridiculous tiny trophy in hand.
I lost. My chest caved in, my arms wrapping around my stomach. I stared at my feet and bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep the burning in my eyes at bay. There went the opportunity to grow my photography career. There went my chance at paying off my debt. There went a chance at stability for the first time ever.
A pair of shiny black boots appeared in front of me, and anger burned like a roaring inferno in my gut as I looked up to find Oliver’s smug face staring at me.
“No hard feelings, Maya?” he asked, extending his hand. His eyes flickered with amusement. I couldn’t decide if his accent made the comment better or worse.
“That would imply I had any feelings about you to begin with. Which I don’t,” I snapped, slapping his hand away before heading to the table to grab my coat and flee the campus.
Strong fingers encircled my bicep, stopping me in my tracks.
“Maya.” Oliver moved in front of me, stepping way too close for my current anger level to handle.
I pried his hand off my arm and glared up at him. “Don’t touch me.” My eyes filled with traitorous tears, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “You’ve already taken enough from me in this class,” I said, fixing my eyes on his chest, unable to look in his blue eyes any longer. “Just let me leave with some measure of dignity intact now that we never have to see each other again.”
Oliver stilled, those ice-blue eyes softening behind his glasses, before moving out of my way. I grabbed my backpack, swung it over my shoulder and made for the door when he stepped in front of me again. My sneakers squeaked on the floor as I stopped.
“Maya, I—”
I groaned, cutting him off. “What don’t you understand, Oliver? Leave. Me. Alone.”
Oliver’s brows lowered over his eyes as he studied me. “Is that really what you want, Maya?”
“Yes.”
Without another word, I stalked out of the classroom muttering, “I never want to see you again,” and left Oliver Lewis behind once and for all.
Oliver
