Page 11 of Not Like Christmas At All
I watch their exchange, relaxing a little, but from across the group, I feel a heavy stare on me. A rush of nerves filters through, and as I lift my gaze, it collides with Lincoln’s.
The impenetrable look reflected back steals the air from my lungs, my heart suddenly pounding.
I’m the first to break our stare, and I immediately wish I hadn’t as my line of sight falls to where Lincoln holds his date—Ashlee’s—hand, their fingers laced together.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I return my attention back to Liam, looping my arm back through his. He smiles down at me briefly as he continues his conversation with Miller.
We carol through the neighborhood for the next forty-five minutes, and despite this being one of my favorite holiday activities, my mind is elsewhere. I can’t concentrate on enjoying the feeling, and instead, I’m nervous—hyperaware of the men as they stand behind us, adding their baritone sporadically through the songs as they remember the lyrics. We visited every house on both sides of the street, only skipping a few who weren’t home. When the last lyric is delivered at the last house, we all head back to our cars with smiles, frozen noses, and the promise to do this again next year.
After we part ways, Liam walks me back to my car, opening my driver’s side door like a gentleman.
“I had a great time tonight, Gen. Thank you for inviting me.” His hand reaches up, brushing a piece of my curly hair that’s fallen out of place. “Do you have any interest in coming back to my hotel for a nightcap? Alcoholic, or non—your choice.”
Glittering with hope, Liam’s hand lingers on the top of the door, holding the metal as I stand between the car and the door.
There’s a split second of hesitancy on my part, but ultimately, I shake my head. “Thank you for such a lovely evening tonight, but I better head home.”
“That’s okay.” Holding his arms open, I step closer to him and wrap mine around his middle. “I’m in town for a couple more days. If there’s any downtime, I’d love to see you if you’re free too.”
“That sounds perfect,” I agree, pulling from his embrace and dipping down to get into my car. “Thank you again, Liam. It was so great to meet you.”
Engaging my seatbelt, I smile up at him before turning on my car.
“Merry Christmas, Gen.” He knocks his fist against my roof twice before shutting my door for me. The windshield begins to defrost as he tucks his hands into his jacket pockets and heads back to his car.
Part of me wants to stop him—invite him to my place. But I bite my tongue. Watching him through the side mirror, he turns his headlights on and lets his car idle, the silhouette of him not moving until I realize he’s being a gentleman, waiting for me to leave first. There’s another moment of hesitancy, wondering if maybe I should step outside of my comfort zone and pursue this man further, before I put my car into drive and speed off in the direction of home.
Chapter Four
Iwake up with a headache that makes me want to crack my skull in half. Or maybe it’s already cracked in half with how it’s pounding.
By the time I fell asleep last night, my mind had volleyed the thought of two men back and forth more times than I should probably admit. I kept thinking about Liam and how sweet he’d been. On paper, he’s a catch. Heck, in person he’s a catch too. There should be more attraction to him on my part, but I can’t help but to feel closed off to the idea of him.
He’d texted me shortly after parting ways to make sure I got home safely. The gesture was sweet, and not completely unexpected considering how he immediately sprung into action with the drink situation earlier.
We’d texted for a while before he finally ended the conversation, needing to wake up early for his conference.
Once my phone was plugged in, I turned over on my side and began to stew in silence.
Memories of how Lincoln stared at me when he saw me with Liam—the unreadable look on his face. Was it a look of indifference? Or annoyance?
Logically, I know Lincoln feels nothing for me. He tolerates me, at best. I’m the woman he can’t seem to shake at work, or in his personal life. And despite my attraction to him, and my preference for driving him insane while at the hospital, I know that’s where our relationship—friendship—ends.
At times, the word friendship can be interpreted in different manners, too.
Notreallyfriends.
Bestfriends.
Friends withbenefits.
God, I wish.
We’re hardly friends at all.
It took a while before my brain settled down and I was able to fall asleep, and now that I’m awake, headache in tow, my thoughts have picked up right where they left off.
Patting my nightstand until my fingers reach my phone, I pull it off the charger and squint to look at it, pulling up Zee’s contact to do some recon.
