Page 55 of Holiday Hostilities

Kind of makes me want to throw up, too.

But if I’m being honest, that might be less about all the Christmas paraphernalia and more about the nervous knot that’s growing in my stomach.

“You’re going to need to tell me again,” Jing says as she bounces along next to me. She has a candy cane pin on her uniform blazer and she’s sipping a gingerbread latte. “how did you end up agreeing to live with Aaron FRICKING Marino?”

I still have no idea.

“I’m not living with him,” I correct her. “I’m staying at his house until the new year while I search for an actual place to live.”

“That’s living with him!”

“No, it’s not. I’m aguest.” I protest. “Besides, I’ll be working a bunch and he has several away games, so we’ll barely see each other.”

“Living with the Italian Stallion himself,” Jing says with a sigh.

“Jing, nobody calls him that!”

“If they don’t, they should.” She winks at me. “And FYI, I’d saddle up that horse in a hot second if I were you.”

“You are unbelievable,” I mutter, even as more nervous anticipation tightens in my core.

It’s been just over a week since Aaron turned up on my doorstep with a crazy proposition that I, even more crazily, accepted.

Today is move-in day. When I land in Atlanta later this evening, I’m only going back to my apartment to collect my things. And, if I’m being honest, my thoughts. Which have been disturbingly close to the so-called “sex gutter” since he informed me I would be sleeping in his bedroom.

Although, by Jing’s remarks, I’m not the only one having inappropriate thoughts about my brother’s best friend.

As much as I will admit that I’m attracted to Aaron physically—and as much as he actually makes me laugh with his ridiculous big-headed comments, and surprises me with his random acts of kindness—I cannot even begin to go there. Ever.

We agreed that I’d move in on the first Sunday in December, just a few days before the gala. This would give me time to give notice to my crazy roommates and to pack up my things before a slew of back-to-back flights.

In the end, telling my roommates I was leaving was easy: Gregory nodded and asked me if I’d like to buy a commemorative CD of his bagpipe music, Romy wailed hysterically for about thirty seconds before getting distracted rummaging through my bag to steal gum, and Shannon immediately called getting my room after I left.

Crazily, it might be Larry I miss the most about that place.

The relief I feel at moving out is palpable, but the pressure is now on for me to find a new, reasonable living situation for the new year.

Because from tonight onwards, I’ll be sleeping atAaron’shouse.

In Aaron’sbed, to be exact. A fact which I will definitely not be sharing with my lovely friend Jing.

“Come on,” Jing grabs my elbow and tugs me forward. “We don’t want to be late for your flight to Babeville.”

“Is that what they’re calling Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport these days?” I ask with a roll of my eyes.

She giggles and slaps my arm as we walk through the departure gate to board our plane.

The flight goes by in the blink of an eye, and before I know it, we’ve landed, disembarked, and are walking through the airport.

Jing is at my side again, chatting a million miles a minute about a hot military man she has a date with tonight, when she suddenly stops in her tracks and squeals. “Oh. My. Gosh.”

Oh my gosh, indeed.

Aaron is standing under the Arrivals sign in the middle of a huge crowd of people awaiting their loved ones. He’s easy to spot: he’s half a head taller than anyone else in the vicinity, andabout a hundred times more handsome with that face that could, and just did, stop traffic.

“He came to pick you up!” Jing squeals. “Aaron Marino is here to pick you up from the airport. I can’t. I simply can’t.” She starts to stagger around like a drunken sailor. “I’m going to need smelling salts to revive me, because I’m swooning away.”

People are giving us very strange looks—Aaron included—so I wrap my hand around her bicep and yank her towards me. “Stop swooning, you madwoman!” I hiss under my breath. “They’re going to pull you aside and search your bag if you keep falling over your feet like that.”

---