Faking Christmas(45)

“He was just…kind of a jerk.”

When Miles didn’t react, I added, “He always...had a way of making me feel small.” My words came out shy and unsure, as if I had just accidentally given him more of myself than I should have. But when I looked at him nervously, he was nodding.

“I can see that. He looks like the type who has a habit of doing that to everybody he’s around.”

I nodded. “Sorry about him.”

He smiled. “I can handle him. How’d he take the breakup?”

I cupped a scoop of water in my hands and watched the water escape. I had given him a crumb, and now I was tempted to offer a bite as I felt myself relax a tiny fraction in his company. “In true Olive fashion, I couldn’t find a decent excuse to break up with him, so instead of facing the problem straight on and just doing it, after college, I made sure to pick a job two states away. Long distance really wasn’t his style. So, while I technically broke up with him, it was all done very…strategically.”

“How did you end up dating him?”

“He was my neighbor growing up. He’s a few years older so never had much to do with me, but when we connected during my final year at UNH, he asked me out. I was pretty flattered at the time. We dated about six months total, but I’d say the last three, I wanted out.”

“So why’d you stay with him?”

“He was nice.” I shrugged. “At least, at face value. He could put on a good show. My parents loved him, so I kept brushing off all the little comments, thinking I was overreacting. He was always flipping things around in conversation to make something my fault. But it was all done in such a friendly way, with a smile, like he was just teasing. I didn’t have a concrete thing to hold onto that would be a good enough reason to break up. So, I just avoided the problem and secretly sent out applications out of state.”

“Sometimes that’s the only way to get rid of guys like that.”

We sat in contemplative silence for a long moment, me reliving brief moments in my history with Glenn and cringing. I hadn’t known what it felt like to be around Glenn until I got away from him. Only then could I put into words just how he had made me feel. One thing it did teach me, though, was that I never wanted to feel that way again.

“You know that you’re not…small, right?”

I startled and raised my eyebrows at Miles. His eyes widened, and an embarrassed smile flashed across his face. “No, I meant…you’re not—" He put his hands over his face while we both began to laugh.

“I meant that…even though you’re kind of annoying, personality wise…you’re big time. Top-notch.”

I was still trying to hold back my laughter when I took in his gaze, piercing and direct on mine. Though he was across the hot tub from me, tingles began at the base of my stomach and worked their way outward toward every limb and nerve ending on my body.

“Thanks,” I said, turning my attention back to the water. Things suddenly felt a little too intense for a fake-date situation. “You could have fooled me with how you treat me at school.”

Another smile touched his lips. “Well, the joke’s on you because I only tease people I like.”

It didn’t mean anything. I didn’t want it to mean anything. He liked a lot of people. But for some reason, his words kept me warm the whole frigid walk back to my cabin.





FIFTEEN





“Merry Christmas little fella. We know that you're in there, and that you're all alone."

Home Alone





A loud banging noise woke me with a gasp and a start. I looked around the small log bedroom in a state of confusion before I heard Miles’s cheerful voice from outside.

“Rise and shine, Celery Stick! We’ve got a lot to do today.”

Not for the first time, I found myself wishing that my bedroom wasn’t right next to the front door on the porch. My first choice had been the other bedroom down the small hallway, but it was locked for some reason, which disturbed me greatly, but when I asked Miles about it, he only shrugged.

Another loud knock—this time at my window.

I checked the time. 7:30 am. Technically, I went to bed at 10 pm, but in girl-with-a-Kindle time, it was actually closer to 2 am, which made this wake-up call much worse than he probably imagined. The previous night of a frozen pond and accidentally laughing and telling Miles too many things had left me exhausted. I flung the covers off my body, immediately regretting it as the damp chill of the winter morning touched my skin. I had left the fire on in the main room the night before, but it had since died out. I dressed quickly to the sounds of Miles singing his own special version of “Jingle Bells” outside my window. When I finally opened the door, I was wearing long, thermal underwear underneath jeans and a thick, cream-colored sweater. All that was accompanied by major bedhead and probably streaked mascara underneath my eyes because I had been too tired to wash my face the night before.

“7:30 on a Sunday, really?”

Miles gave me a quick appraisal with a lift of his eyebrows. He looked like he was about to say something when his brow quickly furrowed.

“I can see your breath,” he said with some alarm.

He stepped past me, entering the cabin. “Why is it so cold?”