Page 108 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
Her jaw drops slightly, but she doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“I want to be with you. For real. Preferably forever, but– Shit! I shouldn’t have said it that way. I don’t want to freak you out, and?—”
“Shhh. Matt,” she says. “You’re not freaking me out.”
“No?” I say hopefully.
She shakes her head sweetly. “No.”
I don’t want to pressure her, but something tells me if I don’t keep gently pressing forward, we might never make it to the finish line.
I clear my throat. “So. Um. Is it crazy to think that maybe you could maybe, possibly feel the same way about me?”
She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Matt, I?—”
“Hold that thought.”
I put a hand up as my eyes catch on a couple breezing past us and down the street.
They’re holding hands.
He leans over and kisses her neck while they walk.
She laughs and places a hand on his ass.
That woman looks very familiar.
He, however, does not.
What. The. Fuck.
“Matt?” Penny whips around to see what I’m staring at, but they’ve disappeared inside a bodega. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. “Maybe nothing, but– Hey, are you hungry?”
“No,” she says, stretching out the word. “We just had lunch.”
“Yeah, well, I’m hungry. Can we stop inside that bodega for a granola bar or something?”
I don’t wait for her response. I just grab her hand and make a beeline for the small store.
Penny’s feet hustle to keep up with me. “You’re being weird. What just happened? We were in the middle of a pretty important conversation, weren’t we?”
“Yeah. We were.” My words are stilted as we reach the door. “And we’ll return to it. I just need to check something.”
I fling open the door of the bodega.
And there they are.
Right in the middle of the store.
Elinor and a man who is definitely not my best friend are making out in the candy aisle like they don’t have a care in the world.
“Elinor?” I say loudly enough for the whole store to hear.
She pulls back from the guy she’s kissing and turns to me.
In general, I try not to look directly at Eugene’s fiancée—I treat her like a solar eclipse of sorts—but that is one hundred percent her. And she is one hundred percent screwed.
