Page 149 of Meet Me at the Metro

“To making it into the spring production and winter break!”

“To Jingle Juice!”Evie squeals.

We’re all chuckling as we chant,“To Jingle Juice!”

The second I swallow back the bitter drink in my hands, my eyes are glancing around the flat. “Where’s Theo?”

The front door swings open with impeccable timing. Theo steps through the threshold, running his fingers through his damp, dark blonde hair as he kicks the door closed.

“About time you showed up,” I tease.

“Don't be a smart arse,”he mumbles, though his eyes soften as he strides toward me. My stomach summersaults as he gives me a sweet kiss,and when he pulls away, he's licking his lips and giving me an accusatory look. “You started without me!”

“I had one sip!”

“Bullshit! You taste like a lot more than one sip!”

I throw my hands up defensively. “I swear!”

“It’s Evie’s fault,” Harvey chuckles. “She nearly poured half a bottle of vodka into theJingle Juice!”

“It tastes better that way!”

All too soon, the laughter in the room extinguishes. Theo stiffens when he finds his brother standing in the kitchen. Thankfully, Connor’s helping himself to the cookies and not paying us any attention.

“What’s he doing here?” Theo grumbles.

“I invited him,” I say, wearing a sheepish smile. “I thought it could be fun.”

“You thought it could be fun?”

“Yes… Besides,Dirty Santais so much better when more people are playing.”

Theo’s eyes glance back to the kitchen for a brief moment. Connor gives him a cordial nod, and the muscle in Theo’s jaw softens—just a little.

“It’s justonenight,” I assure him. “Drink someJingle Juiceand be amiable.”

He scoffs. “Amiable.”

“Pretty please, babe.” I pout out my lower lip for emphasis.

“Fine,” he sighs grumpily. “But,amiably, I’m not talking to him.”

“Who’s the smart ass, now?”

“Still you,” he counters, giving my ass a good smack before he stomps for the kitchen. “Where’s the damnJingle Juice?”

After hours and at least sevenhelpings ofJingle Juice, Theo finally starts to relax with Connor’s presence in the room, though he’s kept his promise… He hasn’t uttered a word to his stepbrother.

Christmas music is still blasting from a Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen as we all gather cozily around the living room, which is cast in a warm, colorful glow from the Christmas lights strung lazily along the walls. I settle myself on the floor between Theo’s legs, soaking in thewarmth of his body and the soft rattle of his chest, when Evie spews another absurd joke for the group to hear.

“Okay, so we all understand howDirty Santaworks?” Harvey asks, glancing around the circle of us. “We all pick a number from the hat. In numerical order, we’ll pick an unopened present or steal one from someone else. Whoever’s lucky enough to drawonewill get the final call. They’ll either keep the gift they got or swap it with someone else. Clear enough?”

We all nod and grab a small, folded piece of paper from the hat in his grasp.

Theo’s got his arm slung around me, so I watch as he unfolds his and reveals the ink-scribbled number inside.

“One?!”I exclaim, drawing myself up on my knees to face him. “No freaking fair!”

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