Page 45 of Holiday Hostilities

“Who’s Romy?” he asks as I direct him out of the stairwell.

At that very moment, down the hallway, the bagpipes start blaring. Old Greg is clearly getting into the holiday spirit, jamming out to “Jingle Bell Rock.”

Aaron turns to me, his expression one of total bafflement.

I smile sheepishly. “Sounds like Greg is practicing for the Christmas rave already.”

“Right.”

He’s looking at me with such horror that I have to laugh. “Welcome to the mad house, Marino.”

Because if I don’t laugh, I might cry.

17

AARON

I wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum that Olivia calls home, never mind the months that she’s been living there.

She warned me about her roommates, but I didnotcount on a huge guy in a Santa suit—and when I say “Santa suit,” I mean the OGMean Girlsversion, complete with fur-trimmed skirt and thigh-high leather boots—piping away to “Jingle Bell Rock.”

I was also not counting on a frantic woman running through the doorway, crashing straight into my chest, and no word of a lie, looking up at me and saying, “Oh, good, you look rich. I need some money to bail Elliott out of jail.”

It’s all I’ve been able to think about since I left her place last night… to the sight of a parking ticket on my windshield and a little dent in my driver’s side door.

But I haven’t given the car a second thought, because through my entire workout this morning, my mind’s been stuck firmly on Olivia and how her cheeks stained crimson as she ushered her wayward roommate back into the apartment, stepped inside herself, and then thanked me for the ride home—before she shut the door in my face.

Now, as I walk through our training facility and into the industrial kitchen where Stefani whips up all kinds of goodies for us, I’m thinking about how this isn’t the first time I’ve unwittingly embarrassed her.

The night in high school when I ended up in her bedroom was worse.

It all happened in a blur. Jake and I were coming home late from a party when we set off the sensor lights in his mom’s yard. Jake ducked into the garage, but in a panic, I scaled the nearest drainpipe, and ended up tumbling into Olivia’s room.

Instead of doing what I should have done—which was get straight out of there and go to Jake’s room—I stayed. We talked. And for the first time ever, we actually got along. Something about the dark of night made us honest, and when she admitted that she’d never been kissed, I was dumb enough to ask her if she’d like to be.

She shocked the hell out of me by nodding, I leaned in…

And reality kicked in.

I left as quickly as I could, and by the next day, we’d gone from casual rivals to full-blown enemies. On her end, at least.

Now, I’m frustrated knowing that she goes home to that dive of an apartment every night. And after meeting her roommates, I can understand why she wants to escape them and their impending Christmas Rave.

In the kitchen, I flick on the lights and head to the fridge. Nobody’s here yet—we’re not scheduled to review game tape until noon—but I decided to come in early for an extra gym session, and now, I’m starving.

Stef cooks fresh food for us after our practices, but she also usually leaves premade food for us for when she’s not here. Today, I help myself to a huge container of overnight oats, a vanilla protein shake, and a couple of those awesome blueberry muffins she makes with the crumbly bits on the top.

I sit at the butcher block table with my spread of food, then slide my phone out of my pocket. I’m surprised, given the early hour, to see I have a new text. Even more surprised to see it’s from Olivia.

Thanks again for the ride last night. And sorry again about my roommates.

I shove a spoonful of oats in my mouth as I text her back.

It was my pleasure. I always seize an opportunity for some Bieber car karaoke.

Did your bagpiping friend play ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ all night?

He did, yes. Switched it up at 6am today. ‘Silent Night’ was my alarm clock.

---