A Festive Feud: A Holiday Romantic Comedy(3)

Fuck, I hate that I’m attracted to her. She’s the last person I should ever want, yet… I can’t help that I do. Not that I’d ever be admitting that out loud to anyone. Nah, that shit is staying locked away in my brain safely where the ice princess can’t wield my weakness as a weapon against me.

That is absolutely something she would do.

“You know this is all your fault, right?” She huffs, leaning against the back of the concrete cell. It’s bad enough that the cell itself is the size of a small closet, but there’s only a single bench that sits to the side, roughly a few feet long.

Clearly, this place wasn’t built for comfort. But I guess a jail cell isn’t supposed to be comfortable.

“My fault?” I scoff. “Sorry, Ice Princess, but had you not tried to fight me over a damn Christmas decoration, then we wouldn’t be here right now. You could be in your mansion, sipping your expensive wine, clutching your pearls, and pretending that the world is perfect.”

She laughs, the sound forced and lacking any real amusement. “I know you, Jackson Pearce. I’m not surprised at all that you’d stoop so low. Let me guess, this is some elaborate plan to ruin our party? Buying decor you don’t even like so we can’t have it. That seems very on brand for you. What a very Pearce thing to do. You heard that my parents have now passed the party down to me, and you’re out to sabotage me. Fuck me, right?”

Christ. Here we fucking go.

It all goes back to the godforsaken parties. Every damn time.

The Worthingtons and Pearces have been at odds for years over our competing town Christmas parties, so our mutual aversion for one another is always amplified during the holiday season.

But what started it all?

The fact that our family never got invited to their generations-old annual Christmas party when everyone else in the town was included. My parents had just moved to Strawberry Hollow. New to town and not invited to the town Christmas party. Clearly, the Worthingtons didn’t want newcomers at their party. It was a very cold welcome to their new town, and so, the next year, my parents, who wanted to have their own Christmas celebration, threw their own party on the very same day and didn’t invite the Worthingtons. Which is something the Worthingtons have never gotten over, especially since now half the town attends our parties instead. It’s been like that every day since—tit for tat.

And thus, this not-so-friendly feud was born.

Immature and excessive? Definitely.

Trivial?

Probably so, but things are different when you live in a small town.

Truthfully, I have no idea why they never invited my parents, but they’ve snubbed my family at every turn. Ever since that first year, our families have made it their mission to “one-up” the other with our holiday parties, both families taking great effort to make their party the better one—better food, better fun, better traditions.

The tension has only gotten thicker between our families over the years, and somewhere along the way, a bit of sabotage got added to the one-upping. My siblings and I have partaken in… some pranks on the Worthingtons and their party preparations, a youthful tradition that we still enjoy as adults. One year, my brother Jameson filled their mailbox with coal, and there was that year in high school that we stuck forks in their yard the day of their party. We’ve stolen Christmas decorations, which we of course returned later, and we may have even built some naughty snowmen in their yard as teens. The Worthingtons have always retaliated, in their own way. They’ve tried to have our party permits revoked several times, sent the town police on a noise complaint, and Mr. Worthington has even gone so far as to use his connections at the electric company to cut our power one year.

At this point, most of the town has taken sides, and it makes the holidays stressful as fuck.

It’s ridiculous when you actually say it out loud. Two families throwing parties just to outshine the other. Like copying each other’s theme to see who can do it better. Or who can get more of the town to come by offering better food and an open bar. Nothing is off-limits when it comes to this party, and that’s exactly the problem.

It just so happens that this year, the torch was passed down to us from our parents. So of course, the first year we’re responsible for throwing the damn party, we end up in jail over a fucking nutcracker.

But honestly, me?

I don’t give a shit about the stupid feud with the Worthingtons. Not really. The only thing that matters to me is Ma, and unfortunately, she does care about the stupid feud and our epic parties, which in turn makes me have to pretend that I’m so bothered that we’re not included in their uptight, lavish cocktail party where the champagne alone costs more than what my company makes in a month.

If my family wasn’t so invested, I wouldn’t give a shit about any of it. But I have to admit, I love messing with Emma Worthington, to drive her as crazy as she does me. I want to push every button she has just to get a rise out of her.

I’ve always liked this… game between the two of us. This delicious tension that makes my dick hard.

She just thinks it has to do with our families hating each other. But the truth is, I don’t actually hate Emma Worthington. I just want to shove my cock between her lips to shut her up.

“Don’t flatter yourself into thinking I care that much. Not everything is about you. I know it’s hard to think of the world not revolving around you, but it doesn’t,” I tell her, ignoring the sneer she throws my way as I walk past her to the concrete bench and take a seat. I cross my arms over my chest, lean back against the bars, and shut my eyes.