Page 3 of Stuffing His Stocking

“Okay, well…” I swallow down my awkwardness. “Can you wait just a second?”

He doesn’t reply, but since he’s not running out the door, I take that as ayes.

I dart back into the living room and grab a small red package from beneath the Christmas tree. When I return to the foyer, Dylan gives me a confused look until I shove the present into his hand.

“I’m sure you won’t be back tomorrow, so I’ll give this to you now,” I explain.

He stares at the small gift for so long I begin to worry there’s something wrong with it. Then he finally looks up, and I notice the slight dimples in his cheeks and the genuine smile that crosses his face.

His large, heavy palm gently drops onto my head and he ruffles my hair. “You’re cute.” He grins.

Annoyance flashes through my veins and I duck away to fix my hair. “I’m eighteen. I’m not a kid.” I straighten my sweater and glance up to find that Dylan’s head has tilted and his eyes have darkened with something I can’t put my finger on.

He drags his gaze over me, slowly and carefully, inadvertently sending a shiver down my spine. “Yeah,” he agrees quietly, reaching out to push a dark curl behind my ear. As he draws back, his thumb faintlybrushes my cheek and goose bumps erupt across my skin. “You’re definitely not a kid.”

My mouth grows dry as my heart pounds almost painfully in my chest. I want to beg him to stay, to touch me again, to do anything but walk out that door. But my brain goes on the fritz and I can’t form a coherent thought.

He watches me, waiting for me to say something else, but the words never come and I’m frozen in place. Then he gives me one last smile, before pivoting toward the door and pulling it open. I don’t even register the rush of cold air when he steps out into the darkness.

“Merry Christmas, Olivia,” he says without turning around, and I’m almost surprised he remembers my name.

“Merry Christmas, Dylan.”

He pulls the door closed and I stay rooted to my spot, watching him from a small window as he climbs into his car. I stare longingly as his SUV drives off into the snowy night.

Who knew this would be the last time I’d see him?

1

LIV

Yes, now I can get the hell outta here!

I hit send on the file that I was working on for my teacher and close my laptop before packing up my things. I know I offered to help Professor Alexander with a last-minute project, but I didn’t anticipate staying on campus this far into the holiday break. He’s one of my favorite instructors, so I was happy to help him out. I’m pretty sure this is everything he needs. If there’s anything else, he can figure it out himself. I’m ready to get home for Christmas.

With everything secure in my backpack, I heft the strap onto my shoulder and exit the library. After checking my watch, I realize I have just enough time to swing by my favorite Vietnamese restaurant to pick up some dinner before I head back to my apartment.

With a few books in my hand and carrying my heavy bag, I walk out the front doors and cross the lawn of the College of Business. Most students have gone home for the holidays. There are a few stragglers like me hanging around. And I see the construction crew is still here doing some work on the building. Other than that, the campus is pretty vacant.

I pull out my phone to look up the number to the Saigon Noodle House, and unfortunately, I’m not paying attention to my surroundings. If I were, then I’d notice the two guys approaching me. Judging by their signature team shirts and oversized muscles, I think it’s a safe bet to say they’re on the football team. I’m not in the mood to interact with any jocks this evening, so I keep my head down and hustle to my car. That is, until two large bodies block my path.

“Look, Ricky. I think she’s lost.” The guy on the left mocks me and I clutch the small stack of books to my chest.

“I think you’re right, man,” Ricky answers his friend. “Little girls like you shouldn’t be out by themselves so late in the evening.”

I ignore them and try to keep walking, but neither of them budges.

“Hey, my friend was talking to you.”

I don’t know this one’s name, but I think we may have had class together. I never paid him much attention if we did, and it seems like that was a good decision.

I blow out an exasperated huff. “I’m just trying to get home, if you don’t mind.”

“What’s your rush? We just wanna talk to you for a minute,” Ricky explains, but I doubt it’s onlytalkinghe has in mind.

“I’m good. Thanks. You guys have a nice evening.” I’m trying to be polite, in hopes they’ll leave me alone and find someone else to mess with. But I have no such luck.

“Do you have any idea who we are?”Thatearns them an eye roll. “Tell her, Chris.” Ricky smacks his friend on the shoulder, and I finally learn his name. Not that I give a damn, but it might be helpful information later on if they’re insistent on bothering me.

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