Page 8 of Oh No, My Best Friend Hates Christmas!

No one is calling you a child.His eyes narrow at me.Go get ready. We’re going sledding.

My jaw drops.

“We are not! You can’t let this– this– this absolute donkey manipulate you like this!”

His left eyebrow rises high on his forehead, while his other stays in its place.

“Because he’sArchie, for Christmas’ sake! Of course he’s manipulating us! It’s what he does!”

An eye roll, then he looks at Archie.

“So you’ll go?” the donkey asks, all cheer. I bare my teeth at him.

“No!” I yell, but he pays me no mind, looking to Baz instead, who leans over me, hitting the top of my head with his chin as he nods.

“Delightful! I’ll meet you back here in twenty!” Archie proclaims, then quickly turns on his heels and marches off the porch, leaving the purple sled behind. I frown at it.

When I don’t move, Bazzy tugs the back of my shirt. When Istilldon’t move, he tugs harder, pulling me back from the door and closing it. I whirl on him.

“Whatare you doing?” I ask. “You know this is going to be holiday festivities mixed with whatever nonsense Archie’s cooked up, right?”

He merely shrugs, then ushers me up the stairs.

“Baz, seriously. This is ridiculous. You don’t have to do something you hate just because Archie is on some stupid power trip. I can go sledding some other time.” We hit the top of the stairs and keep moving, heading down the hallway. “It isnotabig deal. I’ll text him right now and tell him we changed our minds, that we aren’t going.ThenI’ll call your mom and have a very enjoyable movie day. You don’t nee–”

I stop talking, mostly because Baz’s face is suddenly right in front of mine. And I meanrightin front. The tip of his nose bumps mine, and his exhale warms my lips. I freeze, eyes wide and locked on his. The hot chocolate swirls of his irises challenge me. To what, I’m not sure.

I’m terrified to move.

Baz and I have never been shy about being close to each other, but we’ve never gottenthisclose. An inch, and we’d be kissing. I am one measly little inch away from my most secret – my most shameful – fantasy.

I am a terrible person.

My cheeks catch fire, and I flick my eyes away from his. In response, he decides to torture me.

“Baby,” he rumbles, barely louder than a whisper. My eyes shoot back to his as an embarrassing whimper wriggles its way out of my throat.

I want him to take it back.

I want him to say it again.

His inhale leaves my lips cold, and I quickly open my mouth to interrupt whatever torment he’s preparing to lavish on me. One Basil word a day is my usual limit – onenormalBasil word. What he just said is probably my limit for… the next three years? Yeah, that sounds right.

“Okay,” I blurt, loud and piercing. He flinches, and I wince, but I don’t lower my voice. I cannot be held responsible for my motor functions right now. My volume will be what it will be. I have bigger fish to fry.

“If you want to go sledding, who am I to stop you?” Nervous laughter threatens to overcome me, and I just barely manage to squash it down. “I’m going to change. Meet you downstairs!”

I slide away from him and hurry to my room, slamming the door behind me once I am safely inside.

My heart is racing. I think my stomach is somewhere around my feet.

That was… I don’t know what that was. That was a man losing his mind, possibly. Probably. Surely?

Baby.

Definitely a man losing his mind.

Do I have time to write this down in my diary?

---