Page 176 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
I glance over at Atlas, who has cheese hanging off his lip. “Umm... how did this come to be?”
“I thought she was hot and asked her out,” Atlas says with a casual shrug.
Dear God, Atlas.
Could we try to look somewhat respectable?
“Oh my God, I hope it didn’t go like that,” Ida says, looking horrified.
You and me both, Ida.
“It didn’t,” I answer and then clear my throat, ready to put on a show. “I actually became friends with Storee, and she mixed up a night that we were supposed to meet. Atlas was there too, and we all hung out along with Cole. That, I guess, was the start of it.”
“Christmas Cupid Night,” Atlas says with a dangerous smirk. “She lured me under the mistletoe and forced her tongue into my mouth.”
What the hell is he doing?
“Oh goodness,” Ida says, while Otto coughs out a laugh.
“What? No, that’s not what happened.” I flash a look of murder over at Atlas. “He was the one who lured me.”
“Didn’t have to try hard.” He winks at his mom.
And I seem to black out in that moment when I turn toward him and push at his shoulder. “What are you doing? You’re making me look like a hussy, especially after the way your parents found me in a precarious position when they arrived home. You know good and well you were the one putting on the moves that night.”
He glances at his parents and then back at me. Talking through the side of his mouth, he says, “I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I’ve never had a girl really meet my parents.”
Talking through the side of my mouth as well, as if his parents aren’t sitting right in front of us, I say, “Well, saying that I’m the one who lured you under the mistletoe isn’t painting me in a good light.”
“I know but it makes me look desirable.”
“You want your parents thinking you’re desirable?”
“Can’t be sure. Just putting on a good face.”
“Making me look like I had an open kissing booth at Christmas Cupid is not the way to do it.”
“I would have paid to kiss you at the booth.”
My anger lessons as I tilt my head to the side. “Aw, really?”
“Yeah.” He smiles. “I would have spent all my money at your booth.” He cups my cheek, and I lean into his touch.
“How much?”
“Whatever was in my wallet, and then I would have paid in favors.”
Forgetting about his parents entirely, I lean in closer and whisper, “What kind of favors?”
He smiles broadly and runs his thumb over my lips, lightly tugging on them. “The kind of favors that?—”
Otto clears his throat, snapping us out of our haze.
Oh shit, right, we have company.
When we turn our attention to his parents, we both straighten, and my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
God, what is wrong with me?
