Page 12 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

Take that, false holiday cheer.

“Nope, keep it,” I tell the cabin guy. “I’ll be there on Christmas Day.”

I end the call and turn to face the fan frenzy swarming around Ethan. “We gotta go!” I yell, but he ignores me, posing like he’s auditioning forAmerica’s Next Top Douchebag.

“Un-fucking-believable,” I groan.That attention whore is incapable of listening—probably because he can’t hear anything over the constant cheering in his head.

I watch the spectacle and notice the fans’ attire. They’re decked out in more Ethan merchandise than a clearance sale at a teen heartthrob convention. T-shirts, water tumbler stickers, socks with his face plastered on them. Who is pumping out all this unlicensed crap?

I can’t take this shit for another second. I storm over to the fan huddle. As I push through the crowd, trying to reach Mr. Popularity, a woman materializes, blocking my path like she’s beamed down from the fangirl mothership.

Her vibrant red hair and striking green eyes are the first things I notice, but it’s her attire that really steals the show. She’s not wearing normal clothes. Her outfit is a full-body prayer to the Church of Ethan.

Exhibit A: Crop top.Ethan’s Future Wifeplastered across her chest. Because nothing screams “stable” like wearing your delusions.

Exhibit B: Jeans. Ethan’s face. On. Each. Ass. Pocket. Left cheek, right cheek, a butt cheek sandwich with a side of crazy sauce.

Exhibit C: Water bottle. A pic of Ethan’s shirtless abs with text that reads, “Sip it in, ladies.” What are we sipping? The Kool-Aid of wishful thinking? The tears of Ethan’s one-night stands?

The pièce de résistance…

Exhibit D: Necklace. An actual mold of Ethan’s puckered lips.For emergency smoochies. Feeling horny? Make out with this necklace!

I stand there, stupefied. Is this what it feels like to be Ethan? Surrounded by people who see you not as a person, but as some weird item to be worn and displayed? I kinda feel sorry for him.

“Hey there, pushy pants,” she hisses. “There’s a line. You need to wait your turn.”

I freeze, a chill running down my spine.

Shit. I know her.

She’s the Christmas cookie flasher. The woman from that X-rated photo I just crammed into my car, with baked goods barely covering her—

“I’ve seen your tits,” I blurt out before quickly correcting myself. “Er, um, I mean I’m Chase, and I’m actually Ethan’s girl—”

“Yeah, I saw your little performance on TV,” she interrupts, her eyes slanting with suspicion. “You’re the ‘surprise girlfriend.’” She gives me a cold once-over. “I thought you might be competition, but now I’m not worried.”

Ouch.

“You don’t even know me, so—”

She flips her hair. “Chase Pemberton, 32, Capricorn, from Evanston, Illinois, with a fashion sense as tragic as her social media presence.”

Shit!I forgot about social media. The only thing I post regularly is my… who am I kidding? I don’tpost.

“I’m just… private.”

“Don’t worry, we totally respect that,” the red-haired siren says, patting my arm as if I’m a lost puppy. “I mean, it’s not like Ethan’s fans are interested in every tiny detail of his life. Oh wait, we totally are!” She laughs maniacally, and her minions join in like it’s a cult initiation.

The redhead turns her back on me and pushes her way to Ethan. Sure, the crowd parts for her.I try to follow and am immediately blocked by a wall of Ethan-worshippers. The woman giggles and squeezes next to him, putting her hand on his waist with the familiarity of a long-time friend… or something more.

“Ethan?” she coos, her voice dripping with sugar-coated venom. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your… girlfriend?”

Ethan, finally remembering I exist, comes over. “Chase, this is Gail. She’s the president of the Ethan Addicts fan club.”

“We just met,” I manage.

Gail eyes me skeptically. “We were all shocked to hear about your relationship, weren’t we, ladies?”

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