Page 25 of Wrap Me Up

“If he says they’re singing Wannabe, we all gotta take a drink,” I say.

“And these girls are gonna blow it outta the park with Wannabe, give them some love.”

“Called it.” I sling back number three and holler out some cheers. Who doesn’t like Wannabe?

Noel comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist and nuzzles my neck. His breath grazes my skin before he pulls away.

So that’s how he’s gonna play it. He’s in a tight pair of skinny jeans that wrap around his thighs in the most sinful way. He’s wearing a well-fitted suit jacket on top of a t-shirt and I’m practically drooling.

My hand flies to my star necklace. “Thank you for the gift. I have something I think you’ll love.” I pass him the gift bag and his eyes light up when he lifts the book.

“Oh, Tinsel. Thank you. I’ve been looking for this for ages.”

Dylan gives me a knowing look and my cheeks burn. Noel places the bag on our table.

“When’s your turn, rock star?” Snickerdoodle asks. I’m sure Noel was getting ready to kiss me before her interruption, but it’s fine.

“I’m first after Orny’s next break. Signed everyone up.” Noel grins, watching my face turn to pure horror.

“Oh no. I didn’t say I was gonna sing.” I never sing.

“Too late, you got to now. And you’re going with me.” He takes another shot, slams it back on the tray. He dances me over to the dance floor.

Spice Girls are over. I’ve never heard the song the new person is singing, but it’s hopping. Everyone’s enjoying themselves. Snow and Dylan join us on the dance floor. I’m lost in the song and letting it take me.

Then the music switches over to house beats. Orny announces he’ll be back in twenty minutes. I need to down water if I’m gonna get on stage and sing something.

I wander my way to the bar and get us all water bottles. The coldness against my skin is a pleasant contrast to the heat of the room. Noel’s behind me, taking the offered bottle. His throat bobs as he takes a long drink. What I wouldn’t give to drag my tongue across his neck right now.

Clutching the water bottles doesn’t give me a free hand to touch him. Not the way I want. I float back to our table. Dylan has Snow in his lap. Snickerdoodle is somewhere, who knows. I place two bottles on the table and start chugging mine. The crispness is like a dagger down my throat, but it settles in my stomach and calms my nerves. Stage fright was never a thing for me, but tonight. Tonight it might do me in.

The music lowers and Orny’s back. My heart pounds.

“Time for a pair of elves that just can’t be kept apart! Welcome Tinsel and Noooeeel!”

Noel hops on stage. He takes off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor, then holds out his hand for mine.

The title scrolls across the screen behind Noel. On all the screens.

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart—Elton John and Kiki Dee.

The music starts, and he wiggles a microphone at me.

I’m shaking. Noel’s looking right at me, walking down the stage stairs. Everyone parts from the dance floor. It’s just me and him. Like some cheesy coming of age movie and I’m one hundred percent here for it. Maybe it’s cringe, but it’s so us.

He cups my chin, presses his thumb to my lips. When he steps away, I miss his touch. He’s stolen my breath. I can’t think.

Finally, the screens highlight the first line of the song and Noel belts it out. I take his offered microphone and give the answering line.

We play off each other’s energy throughout the entire song. His hand goes to my hip and I sway in his hold as I stare into his eyes. No one else exists. It’s just me and Noel. Just the words to the song. The heat of the spotlight. The rumble of nerves. I won’t break his heart. Never. And I believe him as he sings to me.

When the song ends, Noel pulls me to him. The crowd chants, “Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.”

Noel’s lips ghost mine, but instead of kissing me, he whispers, “I promise not to break your heart again. At least not on purpose.”

I have no words and nod. How the heck does one respond to someone singing about not breaking your heart? It’s the sweetest thing I think anyone has ever done for me.

“No unrequited feelings here. Am I right?” Orny shouts. A ridiculous fog horn blares through the bar and I slap my hands to my ear. “You know what that means!”

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