Page 2 of Sweet Boys Love Christmas
With a tray in tow, I pick out one of the brownies, drop a dollop of Cool Whip on top, and finish it off with a few gummy worms. Perfection.
“Rough day?”
I jump at the sound of the voice and whip around, coming face-to-face with my ex.
We’ve been broken up since the beginning of the school year, which means my rose-colored glasses have been completely removed, and I’ve settled into thewhy the fuck was I so obsessed with this weasel?stage.
“Hi, Tommy.” Hoping we can leave the conversation at that, I move over to the utensil stand and pick up a fork and a small stack of napkins. When he follows, I sigh. “Can I help you?”
“What’s with the attitude?” He falls into step behind me as I shuffle through the dining hall. I scan the tables, taking my time looking for one. There are plenty open, but I don’t want to sit with him.
“I don’t have an attitude.”
I’m sad and want to eat my brownie in peace. Is that too much to ask for?
Teeth gritted, I search the open area for someone I might know. Unfortunately, the only person I recognize is Luke Covey, who’s seated at a table in a corner, head buried in a book, wearing a pair of wired earbuds that look like they’re going to disintegrate if he so much as breathes funny.
“You definitely do.” He curls his fingers around my biceps to stop me. “Can we talk?”
Chest tightening, I look from where he’s holding me to his face. “Talk? Why?”
He barks out a laugh likeI’mthe crazy one. “About us?”
“Tommy.” I fight back the urge to stomp my foot out of frustration. “There is no us.”
This is my own fault. I stupidly took him back multiple times. So naturally, he doesn’t believe I was serious when I said it was over for good. It’s not the first time he’s tried to broach this topic since our last—and final—breakup.
“Come on, babe.” He gives my arm a squeeze that’s borderline painful. “You don’t mean that.”
“I very much do.” I shrug off his hold.
I should have stayed in my room.
As unease ripples through me at Tommy’s proximity, I look back to where I spotted Luke. Now, rather than curled over a book, he’s sitting straight, watching us. Concern is etched into the lines of his face.
Sometimes I wish Luke wasn’t such a good guy.
He might be a hockey player, but he’s not a man-whore like most of our school’s team. He’s quiet, almost borderline shy, and fuckinghot.
Unbidden, my thoughts drift to our one and only night together during our freshman year. How his body felt above mine, the gentle way he kissed me.
It was the best sex of my life.
We didn’t exchange names or numbers, and afterward, we went on with our lives. It wasn’t until this year that I ran into him again. And I keep running into him. We’ve found ourselves hanging out in the same group of people and have chatted a few times, but he’s made it clear that he’s interested in something serious. Me? Though I’m over Tommy, I’m not ready for a relationship.
Across the room, Luke arches a brow and nods at the empty chair across from him.
“I have to go. I’m meeting a friend.”
Tommy guffaws. “You’re blowing me off?”
“Yes.” I step to one side, but he blocks me. “Hey,” I snap.
“I want to talk to you.” He shuffles in even closer. “You’re being ridiculous. You know we’re endgame, baby. Please put me out of my misery and?—”
A large looming shadow falls over us. Without registering the identity of the interloper, I close my eyes. There’s no need to look at him. I’d recognize that clean ocean and slightly salty scent anywhere.
“Are you so dense you can’t tell when a woman clearly isn’t interested?”
