Page 36 of Holiday Hopefuls
“Swallow,” Ian and I say in tandem.
Thankfully, he does before continuing, “Mom said some guy visited you at work earlier this week. Tall. Blond. Like a hot nerd.”
“He is not a nerd, ”I frown, “I don’t think.”
“That’s Callie’s boyfriend,” Ian teases.
“What?” Aaron pops up, pizza crust still in hand. Despite the guy’s immense size thanks to muscles on muscles, a full beard and two full sleeves of tattoos, he’s pretty agile. Must be all that jumping around on stage. “Why haven’t I met this guy?” He feigns outrage, pointing to his brother. “And why have you?”
Ian holds up hands covered in pizza grease. “I only met him last Friday, man.”
“Besides,” I interrupt while handing Ian a napkin, “it’s nothing serious. I don’t even know if I really like the guy.” I deftly ignore Ian’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my face.
Aaron crosses flannel-clad arms. “Well, I need to meet him.”
“Absolutely not,” I start, but a knock on Ian’s door saves me from looking for any kind of excuse as to why Aaron can’t meet the man he had a hand in introducing me to.
Rolling his eyes, Aaron crosses the living room to answer the door.
“You didn’t tell him?” I whisper to my couchmate.
Ian shakes his head. “Figured the less people that know, the better.”
I nod as Aaron opens the door.
“Oh, sorry, I was, um,” a familiar feminine voice dances through the air. “Is Ian home?”
Standing, I turn around to see the owner of my home pilates studio holding an electric tea kettle. “Blythe?” Stepping over Ian’s legs, I head for the door.
Dressed in a vibrant purple spandex top and pants set, she’s clearly come straight from the studio. The petite woman’s brightblue eyes widen. “Callie? Hey! What are you doing here?” Her free hand brushes back loose golden hair.
Reaching the door, I unceremoniously swat an imposing Aaron out of the way. “Move.” I give him a shove, which does absolutely nothing.
But he’s a good sport and heads back to the living area.
Turning back to Blythe, I paste a bright smile on my face. “Come on in,” I say, holding the door open for her. “Ian’s right over?—”
“Blythe.” My best friend sounds like he just ran a marathon. Or ate an entire pizza by himself, which he did. “Hey.”
I startle at the closeness of his voice, finding him mere inches from us.
“Oh, here,” he thrusts my phone in my face, “your phone keeps dinging from messages.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the phone. Blythe says something to my friend in the background, but I’m too focused on the texts from an unsaved number. One I recognize from this morning.
Oliver.
Nacho’s excited to meet you. Just thought you’d like to know.
And my parents. The topic came up at dinner tonight, so I thought I’d prepare them.
Oh,crap. I hadn’t even thought about mentioning a guest to my parents.Shooting a quick text to my mom would be easy, but it may be more fun to see if they panic when their carefully laid plans are disturbed.
With everyone else distracted, I take a moment and officially add Oliver to my phonebook. When my phone alerts the room to another message, my heart lodges in my throat.
Ready for your family to meet your new boyfriend?
My response is immediate.
