Page 37 of Holiday Hopefuls
Absolutely not.
“Everything okay, Callie?”Ian’s voice draws me back to reality.
Snapping my gaze back to the rest of the room, I’m greeted by three pairs of confused eyes. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine. Why do you ask?”
“Because you look like you’re about to have a coronary,” he says carefully.
“Probably just Cal’s boyfriend,” Aaron offers from the fridge. The sound of a soda can popping open echoes in the sparsely furnished room.
Blythe’s light brow creases as a sly grin slides into place. “I thought you didn’t have time for a boyfriend?”
Ian looks toward our mutual friend. “You’ve tried setting Callie up?”
“With my brother,” she nods. “I think they’d be a good match.” Her musical laugh fills the entryway. “Balancing.”
Groaning, my phone pings again.
Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got your back.
“Baby”? Laying it on a little thick, don’t ya think? I doubt my family will read our texts.
“Who wants to watch a movie?”I ask, my voice a notch below supersonic. Blushing furiously, I look for any excuse for everyone’s focus to be off of me as fast as possible. Especially as my eyes drift back to the new message on the screen.
Just wait til you hear what I call you in front of them.
8
Callie
“Are you nervous?”
Leaning back from the bathroom mirror, I pop the mascara wand back into the tube. “Pfft. Why would I be nervous?” Though, I have to admit, the pitch of my voice isn’t really one that’s been accessed in the natural world as of yet. And I’m pretty sure my heart is beating like a humming bird’s right about now. Even if I’m actually totally one hundred percent fine.
Because I really am.
“Because you’re about to go to someone’s parents’ house that you hardly know and claim to be their head-over-heels girlfriend,” Ian says. So matter-of-fact. So calm.
“Well, when you put it like that … ” Rolling my eyes, I double check my appearance in the mirror one more time. The deep forest green turtleneck and auburn skirt I’m wearing are a little dressy, with just the right amount of causal thrown in. But my dark leggings and booties say I do have some practicality lurkingin my bones, given the snowscape outside. Keeping with the semi-nice feel, I pat my half-up half-down hair, making sure not a single hair is out of place. My favorite small gold hoops finish off the look.
“So, are you totally sure this guy isn’t a serial killer?”
“Can anyone ever really be sure?” I tease around reapplying a subtle pink lipstick for the third time.
The sound of something being dropped comes through the phone, followed by Ian cursing under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Trying to get Mom’s tree out of the attic.” More grunting. “I always forget how big this thing is.”
“Make Aaron help you.”
“He’s still at the bottom of the stairs.”
Not bothering to stifle a giggle, the thought of Ian and Aaron struggling with the Fairchild family Christmas tree springs to mind. And neither of them are anything short of fit. “When are you gonna tell your mom to get a smaller tree?”
“Shh!” Ian says into the phone. “You know those kinds of words will have you permanently labeled as a blasphemer in this house.”
“Nah, that’ll never happen. Your mom totally likes me better than you, so I think I’m safe.”
