Page 38 of Holiday Romance
CHAPTER EIGHT
“What do you mean?” My nerves skyrocket at the suspicion on his face. He’s standing way too close to me, as close as we stood under the mistletoe, and nope, no thank you. Not needed right now.
“You’re being weird,” he says when I try to skirt around him. He immediately moves to the side, blocking my way.
“Because it’s been a weird night. Day. However long it’s been.”
His hand shoots out when I try to get past again, pushing me gently against the wall. Only you’d swear he’d pulled me into his arms the way I react, sucking in a breath so loud that he rears back like I hit him.
He looks at me like I’m a stranger. Probably because I’m acting like one.
“You look like you’re going to puke,” he says, some of his wariness morphing into concern. “Do you want to sit down?”
“I’m fine.” I push the hair back from my face, feeling a flush in my cheeks. Maybe I do need to sit down. Maybe I’m ill! That would explain everything.
“What is it?” he asks. “You can tell me. Is it your period?”
“No,” I mutter, annoyed until I force myself to meet his gaze. The worry I see there only makes me feel worse. This isAndrew. I can talk to Andrew.
Just not about this. If Andrew is my one constant right now, then I refuse to let him go, since casually revealing to your friend thathey! I liked it when our bodies touched! Let’s do that again!might come across the wrong way.
“Can we go now?” I ask. “Trust us to miss this flight.”
“We’ve got time.” His expression softens at the panic he no doubt sees on my face. “Come on, Moll. What’s up?”
“Beyond the giant mess of this trip?” I hesitate when he just looks at me like the stubborn asshole he is. “It’s nothing,” I say eventually. “I’ve just been super busy lately.”
“You’re always busy.” He doesn’t say it in a judging way, more like a statement of fact, but it still stings.
“I know,” I say. “But work feels especially manic right now.”
“Okay, well—”
“I also think I’m at the beginning of an early midlife crisis? And I was excited about seeing you and the flight and probably put way too much expectation on the whole thing and it’s just—”
“Molly—”
“It’s stupid,” I finish.
“What’s stupid?”
I ignore him, noticing his empty hands for the first time. “Who’s watching our stuff?”
“A shifty-eyed man who tried to sell me a Rolex,” he says without missing a beat. “What’s stupid?”
“The…” What is happening to me? “The mistletoe thing… I shouldn’t have…” I lift my hands helplessly, but he gives me nothing, staring at me with a blank look like he has no idea what I’m talking about. Because of course, he doesn’t. He’s probably already forgotten about it.
“You know what?” I say. “Maybe I am going to puke.”
“Are you talking about when you kissed me?”
I am full-on sweating now.
“Molly?”
“Yeah. Yes.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
His brow furrows. “Why not?”
