Page 8 of Missiletoe
But Paris was the prettiest thing I’d seen in my life, and he wasn’t afraid of Baz. I knew without a doubt that I would never find someone like him again, and my eyes began to flood with tears.
Yep, I am a total crybaby.
But come on. It wasn’t fair! I had a Disney prince right in front of me, and I didn’t have a chance in hell of having him.
“Bunny, what’s wrong?” Paris reached out and wiped away the tear rolling down my cheek.
Shit! He was nice too? Another tear rolled down my cheek, and Paris caught that one too. His hand left my ankle, and it sucked so much that my crying kicked into overdrive. I was going to soak my shirt, and it wasn’t going to be in the good, dirty way.
“Is he always like this when he wakes up?” Paris asked Baz. He wasn’t panicked or disgusted by my waterworks—that was worry on his face. He wasconcernedabout me. The whole situation was so unfair I was about to start wailing at the top of my lungs.
“No. Vix, sweetheart, what happened? Did he hurt you?” Baz wasn’t laughing anymore. He was putting his murder face on.
I choked down my tears and my need to howl like a lonely puppy because I didn’t want to see what Paris looked like without his important organs.
It took some sniffling and little wuffly noises before I could say, “No. No one hurt me, Baz. I’m fine, I promise. I just got surprised earlier and fell asleep again.”
“Surprised, huh? By a car accident?” Baz asked with a frown. When I shrugged sheepishly, he continued, “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that accident, did you?”
I jumped to defend myself because I wanted to see the light of day before the end of the year. “It wasn’t on purpose! I got distracted by the Christmas decorations. You know how I can be.”
“Yes, I do, which is why you’re supposed to have someone with you when you go out.”
“He walks into traffic too?” Paris asked, and I stared intently down at the soft, fluffy blanket covering me, stroking it to fend off the impending Big Sad headed my way.
There was no way I was getting him now. Not even as a friend. What kind of person would want to be around someone as high maintenance as me? Even for a quick fuck.
From my experience, only the kind that liked to try and take over the world. Why those two went hand in hand was anyone’s guess, but Paris didn’t look like he’d try to take over control of a tandem bike, let alone the world.
“Yes, he walks into traffic, pets stray animals, forgets to eat, or eats way too much candy and then throws up—”
“Jesus, Baz. Shut up!” I was gripping my blanket so hard I was about to break its stitches. “He doesn’t need to hear all the grizzly details of my personality.”
“Bunny.” A large finger went under my chin and lifted it until I was forced to meet Paris’s gaze. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You be who you are. Let everyone else manage their own reactions. If they don’t like you, they aren’t worth your time.”
More tears came. Bigger ones this time.
“That wasn’t helpful, Paris,” Baz said dryly. “You broke him.”
“He didn’t break me,” I said between sniffles.
“You don’t usually cry in front of strangers.”
Paris didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt safe and warm and where all the happy things came from.
“Paris isn’t wrong though. Fuck everyone who doesn’t love you as much as I do. You’re perfect and everyone who doesn’t agree can eat a dick. Now let’s get you home.”
“Do you want to go home with your brother, bunny?” Paris asked.
“Baz isn’t my brother,” I blurted. Wow. I was being a lot more open about our personal life than I usually was. I think my heart was bonding to Paris as fast as my dick was. “I mean biologically. We aren’t related by blood.”
“But we are family,” Baz said, and I nodded.
“Not your brother. And you love each other.” Paris’s eyes went chilly.
“Intensely,” Baz said cheerfully. “Now let’s go home, Vix.”
I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to stay and get to know Paris better, but if I got to know Paris better, he might get to knowmebetter, and then he’d go sprinting away, because boy, he’d barely uncovered the tip of the Vix iceberg of weirdness.
