Page 40 of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree
“What?”
“We voted. It’s the way we’ve done things since we were in high school. Evan wasn’t happy about the vote, but he didn’t say no. He wanted you around, I think.”
Knowing he wanted me, even if it was begrudgingly at first, creates a fizzling warmth in my blood.
“Oh.”
“You’ve been good for him, Lilah. He’s…he’s more alive than I’ve seen him in years, if that makes sense. He was going through the motions, but like it was muscle memory and not because he wanted to. It was like he was playing a part versus doing what he loved. What we all love.”
“Aww, Milo.” I rub a hand up and down his arm. “You really are a romantic, aren’t you?”
“Think you could tell Chloe that? Maybe that’ll give me a chance with her.”
“Chloe?” I guess my suspicion about him having a crush on her was right, but I’m not sure she sees him the same way.
Our publicist is four years younger than I am, which makes her nine years younger than our drummer.
“Is Chloe who you’ve been talking about for the last few months?” I ask.
He nods, looking more solemn than I think I’ve ever seen him.
“And your hair?”
His sheepish grin is answer enough, but he nods again. “Yeah. I figured maybe if I showed her I was serious, she would give me a chance. I want to be different. For her.”
“Short hair doesn’t make you serious.”
He snorts a laugh. “She said something similar.”
“Maybe you need to be her friend. Only her friend.”
The despondent look in his eyes when he glances up pierces my heart, and I blink back tears.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Aww.” I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around him and pull him into a hug.
“I thought mistletoe was for kissing.” Finn’s voice breaks into the conversation, and both Milo and I glance up to see the little sprig hung above the table.
“What in the world?” I ask. Surely this is some sort of sexual harassment suit waiting to happen.
“Christmas party was last night,” Finn says with a shrug. “Probably leftover from that.”
Milo looks at me, the semi-goofy playboy persona locked in place instead of the thoughtful, emotional person I was just talking to.
“What do you say, Lil? Want to experience kissing the tongue master?”
I roll my eyes, not fighting the giggle that bubbles up. “I’ve already experienced kissing the tongue master. And that’s not you. Not by a long shot, big talker.”
He puckers up, smacking his lips together. “Come get it, beautiful.”
I lean forward, pressing my lips against his playfully. The mistletoe above us demands it.
“What the fuck?”
I spring back at the hurt permeating Evan’s voice. He’s standing inside the conference room door, the betrayal written all over his face quickly being replaced by a rolling storm of anger, obliterating the hurt.
“Evan—” Chris wraps his fingers around Evan’s bicep, but he shrugs out of the hold.
