Page 21 of The Mistletoe Bluff
“You’re helping me by driving me to and from work, so let me help by pretending we’re dating.” I tucked my hair behind an ear, hoping he missed the nervous shake of my hand. “If you want me to, that is.”
He studied me for another moment, and I was vaguely aware that we were still sitting on the side of the road and not at Dina’s where my shift started soon.
“Let me get this straight. You, Maya, the girl who despises me, wants to pretend to be my girlfriend for Christmas?”
My nose scrunched. “Wow, thanks for making me sound like a psycho.”
He ignored my words, still studying my face.
I fixed my eyes on the road ahead of us, unwilling to meet his gaze as I struggled to find a reason he'd accept. “No one should be treated that way—least of all by a parent. Your dad seems like the kind of guy who could use a kick in the butt, and if pretending to be your girlfriend accomplishes that, then I’m willing to do it.”
I still felt his gaze on my face and decided to share a truth I knew he'd believe.
“And…” I sighed, unsure why I was admitting this to him. “I don’t want to be alone for Christmas.”
His eyes softened. “You were going to be alone?”
I nodded, wishing I hadn’t brought it up. Oliver didn’t need to know I spent holidays alone. “Usually, I spend it with my cousins and their mom, but Jameson is going out of town with his fiancée this year, and Emma is at college and is bringing my aunt for a visit, so I’ll be on my own.”
“What about your parents?” I must have made a face because he added, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
I wanted to snap at him that it was none of his business, but the reminder of how hard every Christmas was took all the bite out of me. “All you need to know is that neither of my parents are in the picture anymore. I’ve spent most holidays by myself for years.”
His blue eyes somehow softened even more. “I’m sorry.”
My eyes burned, but I bit my lip and sniffled to keep the tears away. “Anyway, if you’d like me to pretend to be your girlfriend, I’ll do it.” I paused before tacking on, “But it doesn’t mean I suddenly like you.”
Oliver huffed a breath but pulled back onto the road without another word, and a few moments later we were parked in front of Dina’s.
“Okay, Maya. You can be my fake girlfriend for Christmas,” he agreed and held his hand out for me to shake.
I stared at it, wondering if this was going to be a colossal mistake, and then slipped mine into his.
“It’s a deal, Oliver Lewis. Just remember that I secretly hate you.”
A lazy grin spread across his face. “For now, Maya. For now.”
Maya
Dina’s was so busy that the hours passed in a daze of fried food and the steady stream of sweat trickling down my spine. By the time my shift was over, and Oliver had dropped me off at home—thankfully without further “Big Mouth Maya” incidents—I felt like I was going to explode. I didn’t bother to take my coat off before running across my apartment, socks skidding over the wood floor.
If I was going to be Oliver’s girlfriend, then that meant I needed to enterRising Star. I had been on the fence about it up until that fateful phone call in his Jeep, but now I was all in.
The citrus air freshener in my bedroom soothed my anxiety as I searched for that binder of photos. My portfolio was hiding somewhere in my closet and hadn’t seen the light of day since Oliver Lewis stomped on my dreams.
My closet floor was a mess and I had to dig deep into a pile of clothes, all the way to the back, tossing everything back into the room from whence it came before I found the binder at the bottom of a stack of college books.
“Ah ha!” I exclaimed, holding it to the sky like Rafiki did to Simba. Ignoring the mess I made, I crawled out of the closet and pulled myself onto the bed, sitting cross-legged. A shaky breath worked itself out of my lungs. I didn’t know why I was nervous. I had gone through the portfolio hundreds of times. Italmostwon the Meridel Community College photography competition.
I flipped open the cover. The entirety of the binder contained photographs in chronological order from the start of the class to the end of it. The first pictures were fine, but my skill improved with each page I turned, until I came upon my pride and joy:The Heart Shotshoot.
I had begged Elsie and Jameson, who had never met before, to agree to a couples photoshoot where they had to pretend to be in love with each other. It was the coolest idea I had ever had, and it had gained enough traffic through social media that, for a short time, I had enough photography gigs to float by. But far too quickly, they stopped, the money ran out, and now I was stuck at Dina’s serving food and coffee.
I scanned through the photos, marveling at how beautiful they turned out. The lighting in that sunflower field had been absolute perfection, and Elsie and Jameson had had instant chemistry.
Plopping onto my back, I stared at the ceiling.The Heart Shotpictures were great, but could they win an international competition? Or would I just set myself up to be disappointed and broken once again?
I chose not to see the fact that it was based in England, the same place Oliver Lewis was from, as an ill omen, even with his dad pushing for him to enter as well.
