Page 43 of Holiday Hostilities

I roll my eyes at him. “Watch the road, bozo. And I can’t help it that reading the news about my brother means that I have to see news about you, too.”

He gives a soft chuckle, and the sound reverberates through the car, producing goosebumps on my skin. “Don’t believe everything you read, Olivia.”

After that, we fall silent, save for Aaron’s Apple Maps lady directing us to the relative hovel known as my apartment. I shift in my seat, sliding over the slick leather as I will the traffic to disappear so I can get home faster. After spending the last few hours with Aaron, I’m suddenly ready to be alone, far from his proximity and the confusingly enticing smell of his cologne.

Clearly, I’m very tired. I’m usually immune to The Aaron Effect.

Aaron reaches forward and turns the radio up. It’s set to a local station, and every hackle on my body raises as I recognize the song playing: “Last Christmas.”

Now that Thanksgiving is over and done with, it’s officially Christmas music season.

Ugh.

Up ahead, a light turns red, and we grind to another halt.

As George Michael croons that he’s once bitten and twice shy, and how he needs to keep his distance, I’m in half a mind to thank Aaron for the ride and let him know I can take it from here as I bolt into traffic.

But then, he pushes another button on the console to sync his phone up to the car stereo. Thankfully, the Christmas song about a broken heart cuts out and is replaced by none other than Justin Bieber’s “Baby.”

I turn to stare at him. “You’re a Justin Bieber fan?”

Aaron laughs, and shakes his head. “Not really. But you seemed to hate the last song and I thought you might like it seeing as you used to play it to death back in high school.”

I remember everything about you, Olivia...

I bite down on my lower lip, trying to force away that pesky warmth again, just as Aaron, tone deaf and overconfident as ever, starts singing along at the top of his lungs, cooing and crooning ridiculously until I have no choice but to laugh.

And then, no choice but to join in. Because as bizarre as this moment is, he’s right. I loved this song back in high school, and even now, I belt it out word for word, hitting all the high “oooohs” his deep voice most definitely can’t reach.

As the song ends, Aaron chuckles, and the sound is almost… endearing. I have to look out the window to hide my smile.

It takes us the better part of forty-five minutes to get to my place, but by the time we arrive, we’ve been serenaded by most of Justin Bieber’s top hits.

“This is me,” I tell him, gesturing towards my building. “There’s no parking spots out front, so if you stop here, I’ll hop out.”

Aaron does not follow my instructions. Instead, he slows down, looks up at the building, then looks back at me. “You livehere?”

His stunned—and somewhat disapproving—tone gets my hackles raised again.

“Home sweet home.” It’s meant to be a joke, but the words come out more defensive than I mean them to.

I do, however, manage to refrain from adding “we can’t all be rich hockey players” to my defensive response, which I’d like to think is incredibly mindful and illustrates my newfound maturity.

Aaron suddenly jerks the car to the left with so much force, my bag slides off my seat, and he pulls into what is decidedly not a parking spot before turning off the car.

“What’re you doing?” I demand.

“Walking you up.”

“No, you’re not.” No way am I going to let him meet my crazy roommates. “You’ve already driven me home, and that’s more than enough. I can take it from here.”

As if on cue, two men skulk out of the shadows from the alley right next to us, blatantly ogling Aaron’s car as they pull their hoods up.

Aaron’s mouth presses into a firm line. “Yeah, no. That’s not happening.”

“It’s fine.” I wave a hand. “I come home late all the time from flights.” I nod towards the men, now standing on the sidewalk. “Don’t worry about those guys. It’s probably just Larry and a friend.”

“Larry?” Aaron’s voice goes up an octave.

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