Page 28 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

Her eyes scan the discolored, worn-out rug from my teenage years. She seems resigned, and for a moment, I’ve won. Then the door handle rattles.

Uh-oh. This is gonna freak her out.

The door flies open, and Bubbles waltzes in like he owns the place. Which, to be fair, he kind of does.

“Oh yeah,” I drawl, enjoying the way Chase’s eyes bulge out of her head. “Did I forget to mention he can open doors with his tail?”

“Jesus Christ!” she screams, maneuvering me to be her human shield. “Fine, we’ll share the fucking bed!”

Chuckling, I usher Bubbles back out of my room and shut the door, jamming a chair under the handle for good measure. When I turn back, she’s having a full meltdown.

“I’m in hell. I must have died and been sent to Florida for crimes in a past life. How did I get stuck in this… this… swamp, doomed to spend eternity with tacky holiday decorations and a bunch of weirdos who are one gator short of a full zoo? And you—”

“Watch it, Your Highness. That’s my family you’re trash-talking.”

“I can put up with a lot of shit, but who the hell raises pet alligators? Any other insane surprises I should know about? A shark in the shower? A python guarding the fridge? Seriously, what’s wrong with your family?”

“Screw you. My parents have been nothing but welcoming,” I snap. “You don’t like it here? Go do the holidays your way. Visit your own damn family.”

She goes quiet, her face pale.

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it, darlin’.”

Even more awkward silence.Well, fuck me.

I run a hand through my hair, trying to dial it back. “Listen, roomie. This whole ‘crashing my family vacation’ idea was yours,not mine. So suck it up. We do Christmas the same way every year. Keep your opinions to yourself or go home.”

I wrinkle my nose, catching a whiff of something funky. “How about you take a shower? You smell like Bubbles marked you as his territory, and I don’t want your stink ruining my dinner.”

“Gladly,” she mutters, grabbing her suitcase. “I’ll try to keep my opinions to myself, but your family is… a lot.”

“Hey, Stinky,” I call out, tossing her a gift box. “Don’t forget your festive jammies. Just cause you pissed me off doesn’t mean you should offend the whole family.”

Chase catches the box. “Do not come into this bathroom under any circumstance,” she warns.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

The bathroom door slams with enough force to rattle the windows.

I drop back onto my bed with a groan. I give her three days tops before she has a complete breakdown.

I whip out my phone and check the Cherish app: 12,000 paid subscribers. Only a handful more since earlier, but it’s a start—I’ll take it. I swipe it away and open Instagram, checking on my recent posts.

Yeesh. The fans are really going after my new girlfriend. Some of these comments are savage.

What’s with those funeral clothes…? Her photos give me frostbite… She’s as interesting as a bowl of oatmeal.

Guess I’ve got my work cut out for me.But hey, fake it ‘til you sleigh it! Right?

As I read through the comments, a realization hits me like a shockwave. They might not be digging our love story, but they sure as hell enjoy Chase being humiliated. Dang… The more she squirms, the morethe likesskyrocket.

Interesting.I can work with that.

My eyes land on a comment from Gail: “I’d rather see Ethan date a burnt sea slug than her.” It already has 1500 likes. I chuckle. Gail’s always been my number-one fan.

And critic.

And possibly future stalker.

---