Page 77 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

Hey Chase, I’m falling hard for you. Let's give this a shot when we’re back in L.A.?

Before I can bare my soul, Chase’s face sparkles with mischief. Quick as a flash, she holds up her hand, revealing crossed fingers.

“Fooled ya, sucker! I cheat to win. Race ya back!”

She sprints out of the ocean, leaving me floundering in her wake. I’m so baffled by this intriguing woman. One minute she’s ice, the next she’s fire. All in or all out—no in-between. Today, she’s clearly chosen “all in” on our little competition.

I’ve got to come out on top, show her I can match her stride for stride. Maybe if I prove myself her equal, she’ll finally hear what my heart’s been screaming.

The next few games turn into a fierce competition of cleverness and charm. She won the snowman-building round, but I crushed her dreams (and the ball) in beach volleyball.

The Reindeer Ring Toss had us neck and neck until she pulled out her secret weapon. Chase flashed her tits, and I missed my last throw by a mile.

She was on her way to surefire victory in “Candy Cane Fishing.” As she reeled in what should have been her winning catch, I struck. My hand found her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Her startled yelp was music to my ears as she lost her balance.

I’m not above fighting dirty. After all, she started it.

The Polar Express Sprint—the final showdown. We’re lined up on the sandy shore, adrenaline pumping and our game faces on. The finish line taunts us from waaay down the beach. Nolan, our supposed impartial judge, stands ready.

I scan the faces of my family, searching for a hint of support.

“Chase, sweetie,” Mom says, her voice syrupy sweet, “you’ve played your little heart out today, haven’t you? We are all rooting for you.”

“Mama?” I protest. “What about me? Your flesh and blood?”

“Ethan, hun, give it a rest. No one wants you winning again. Besides, I think you’ve met your match.”

“Don’t worry, son,” Dad chimes in. “You have our love. But I must admit, I’ll enjoy seeing you finish second.”

My last hope is my brother. I spot him down the shore, arms spread wide.Perfect.I flash him our secret twin signal for “Bro, I need you.”

Nolan hollers back, “Go Chase!”

Chase bumps my shoulder, her grin wicked. “Sorry, not sorry, but I guess they like me more."

“I hate to disappoint everyone,” I declare, “but those flip-flops are mine!”

Mom raises her arms, ready to start. “Racers, line up!”

Chase and I stand side-by side, our toes pressed into the sandy ground. In the distance, Nolan waves to signal he’s ready.

I stare Chase down, taking one last chance to trash talk her. “No shame in losing to the king, newbie. I’m the champ. Fast, experienced, and unbeatable in the sand.”

“Maybe speed isn’t the key. Strategy is.”

“It’s running—that’s all about speed.”

Determination sets in. My heart races. Muscles primed and ready. Let’s do this.

“On your mark,” Mom calls out. “Get set...”

“Prepare to cry into your pillow tonight, darlin’. Losing is gonna be a tough pill to swallow.”

Chase leans close and whispers in my ear, “Oh I’ll swallow alright, when I let you fuck my mouth tonight.”

“GO!”

Her words hit me like a hurricane, and she’s off.

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