Page 9 of A Very Merry Enemy
I spin Becca, pull her back in, and dip her.
The joy I feel seeing Holiday’s scowl should be illegal.
After the second song, I lean down to Becca’s ear. “I’ll be right back. Gotta hit the restroom.”
“Sure!” She touches my chest. “Hurry back.”
“Won’t be long.”
I head toward the hallway where the bathrooms are, deliberately walking close to Holiday’s table. I don’t look at her or acknowledge her existence.
But I know she’s watching. She always is. She’s never been able to help herself.
The hallway is dimmer and quieter than the main bar. Christmas lights are strung along the walls, casting everything in a warm glow. I push open the bathroom door and suck in a deep breath, feeling the weird energy in the room.
What the hell am I doing?
I stare at my reflection. My jaw is tight. My eyes are hard. I look like I’m ready for a fight.
Maybe I am.
I’m about to head back out when the door slams open behind me.
Holiday storms in, locks the door, and stands in front of me, blocking the exit.
“Real fucking mature,” she snaps.
I catch myself, smirking. “Wrong bathroom,Peaches.”
She glares at me and time stands still.
“Don’t call me that,” she says between gritted teeth.
I straighten up, knowing I’m under her skin. “You got a problem?”
“You’re trying to ruin my night.”
“You don’t know shit about me, Holiday, or what I’m trying to do. Don’t pretend like you do.” I cross my arms.
“Oh, I know you better than you think,” she says, stepping closer.
“What’s this about?” I lean back against the counter. “You jealous or something?”
“Jealous? I should warn the poor girl.”
This makes me laugh. “I’m not the red flag. You are.”
“Fuck you,” she whispers.
“Actually, fuckyou,” I counter.
She shakes her head. “You started this. You kept looking at me?—”
“It’s a small bar, Holiday. Don’t flatter yourself.”
Her eyes flash with anger. “You’re such an asshole.”
“I’d rather be an asshole than be pathetic. Over a decade later, and you’re still recycling old crushes.” I laugh in her face, taking steps forward. She backs up, blocking the door, not letting me leave. “You’ve always been like this. Always wanting what you can’t have. Always looking at me when you’re with someone else.”
