Page 17 of Merry Little Hate Notes

“You’re not going to check who the bag is from? Maybe you have a secret admirer in the office,” I teased her. Did I ever admire her.

Her eyes darted around nervously at every man in the vicinity, including Jason, who had just returned to his desk. He settled two rowsaway, where he could glance at Holly. I’d noticed his eyes seemed to land on her frequently throughout the day. I was liking him less and less.

“Do you have an admirer?” The better questions would be: Who is it? And did she like the guy? I couldn’t imagine she would be interested in Jason. And if she were, I owed it to Christian to neutralize that situation. She deserved better than the likes of him.

“No,” Holly said, as if that were ridiculous.

“Are you sure?” I needed to know who I was up against.

“Yes.” She hastily grabbed the bag as if to prove to herself none of our coworkers saw her romantically. Why was that? Another mystery to solve.

I watched her carefully remove the shimmery tissue paper before reaching into the bag to pull the card out first. She read it out loud. “Have yourself some merry little sticky notes.” Her brows furrowed while she pulled out the large stack of holiday-themed sticky notes in reds and greens with candy canes printed on them. Holly immediately dropped them on the floor like she’d burned herself. “What in the world?” She threw me a scathing glance.

I threw up my hands and truthfully said, “They’re not from me. I would never say something likemerry little sticky notes.”

She tossed her head from side to side, conceding the point. “That’s true.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, confused.

I rubbed the back of my neck, internally berating myself for not playing it cool. “For agreeing with me.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she shot back.

With those fighting words, my Holly reappeared. She didn’t realize it, but she’d cracked the door just a sliver.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I grinned.

“Ugh. I’m going to the bathroom.”

“I’ll be here,” I called after her retreating figure.

For as long as it took, I would be there waiting for her to let me in.

HOLLY

“DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE a secret admirer? This could be fun. I wonder who it is?” Carmen asked over the phone.

I sat in my car and talked to her Wednesday morning while staring at the sticky notes on the passenger seat, delaying my walk into the office. “I wondered that too. But I don’t think it’s a secret admirer. I mean, who gives sticky notes as a romantic gesture?” Granted, Brandon used to give me the leftover colors he didn’t like, but this was different and weird. And obviously Brandon had zero romantic interest in me—found that out the hard way. Sure, at first I suspected him, given the nature of the gift. But ... “I can’t see a guy sayingmerry little sticky notes.” Especially not Brandon. He was too smooth for that. Besides, knowing him, he’d have written a hate note with it and booby-trapped the bag with exploding permanent ink or something.

Christian and Brandon had loved playing pranks on me. They’d done everything from replacing all my cute socks with socks printed with their faces on them to hiding a contraption in my room that sounded like a cricket chirping. For weeks I’d searched for the cricket, afraid to sleep in my room for fear it would jump on my face at night. My parents went so far as to hire an exterminator to take care of the pesky insect, to no avail. Christian and Brandon laughed so hard when, by accident, I found the device and endedmy cricket nightmare.

Carmen snort laughed. “If some guy said that to me, I would never be able to look at him the same.”

“Right?”

“Well, maybe it was just some nice coworker who thought you needed a little pick-me-up during the holidays.”

I stared at the sticky notes calling my name. Whomever the culprit was, they had no idea what they had done. It was like giving an addict the drug of their choice—and I wanted a little hit so bad. But I knew what it would lead to: A life of crime. The crime of passionate hate, that is. Each hate note Brandon left had me itching to unleash my pen and write things like,Although it’s been said many times, many ways, I hate you.OrGuys like you are why I’m single all the way.They were the most Christmassy thoughts I’d had in years, but it probably wasn’t the best way to jump back into the holiday spirit. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to search for the magic of Christmas again, even though I’d promised my dad I would think about it. I had thought about it a lot, and it terrified me more than it should.

“Yeah, maybe,” I responded.

“Speaking of coworkers—how goes it with Brandon?”

“It’s going,” I sighed. “The dang man went the this-is-a-partnership-and-you’re-going-to-talk-to-me route yesterday.”

“I’m not going to lie—that’s kind of sexy,” she responded.

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