Page 37 of Sneaking Around with the Player
“No.” She laughs. “Is your family still over?”
“Yeah.”
I can read the disappointment on her face.
“It’ll be an early night. What’s your family up to?”
“We were playing board games, but then Teddy showed up to surprise Holly.”
“That’s nice.” Something aches in my chest.
“He brought her a tree.” She waits for me to react. “Like a Christmas tree. A real one because she was sad that we only had a fake one this year.”
“That’s...damn, that’s romantic as hell.” It occurs to me I’ve never bought a girl a Christmas gift. Not a real present. Thecheeseburger I sent Stella suddenly doesn’t feel so romantic. I might suck at this whole being a boyfriend thing. What a shitty realization.
“Right?” Her laughter cuts off, but she continues to smile. “Can you meet up in an hour or two?”
I swallow, pulse thrumming in my ears. I’m dying to see her again, to hang out, to kiss her. Of course, I am, but I have this sinking feeling that I’m making things worse for her instead of better. Also, I don’t really feel like getting hit again. In the end, my desire to see her outweighs everything else. “Yeah. I’d love that.”
We head to a restaurant and bar roughly halfway between our houses. I get there first and then she pulls up in a Jeep and parks next to me. We both get out and meet at the back of her vehicle.
She’s still wearing herHome Alonesweatshirt, paired with jeans and tall boots that add a couple inches to her height.
“Hi.” She hesitates and then steps forward and hugs me.
I squeeze her tightly and then lift her off the ground, gaining a laugh out of her and easing the tension.
When I set her down, Stella rubs at her arms. “It’s cold out. Do you want to go in?”
“Not really,” I say. “I was thinking we could take a drive.”
“Okay. Yeah, that sounds fun.”
She gets in my car, or my dad’s, since mine is parked in a lot in Colorado, and I take off toward familiar roads. It’s quiet out tonight, most people home with their families.
I fiddle with the radio, almost every station is playing holiday music, so I unlock my phone and hand it to her. “You want to pick some music?”
She takes the device, staring down at it for a beat before she answers, “Absolutely. A person’s phone is filled with all sorts of interesting secrets and details.”
I chuckle. “Oh yeah? What exactly does my phone tell you about me that you don’t already know?”
“Well, Spotify tells me that you recently listened to Mad Beats and Sick Workout Mix, so I’m guessing you mostly use the app when you’re working out.” She cocks a brow in question.
“That’s true.”
She puts on the Mad Beats playlist and then laughs when the heavy beat vibrates the seats.
“Not really a Mad Beats kind of vibe right now,” she says as she quickly changes it.
“Aaron is always putting together new playlists for our gym sessions.”
“Oh my gosh, Beau. You have over a thousand unopened emails!” Her eyes widen as she swipes through the apps on my phone. She groans. “You are one ofthosepeople who doesn’t clear their notifications.”
“Is that bad?”
“I have to clear my notifications or it makes me crazy.”
“I think that says more about you than me,” I tease, resting one hand on top of the steering wheel and moving the other to the gear shift.
