Page 96 of Holiday Friend Zones
For a full second, my brain short-circuits.Heat scorches my cheeks so fast I swear I’m about to ignite.I picture myself combusting, flames licking up the garland, the bookstore reduced to ashes, both of us dead in a tragic holiday flirtation accident.
“Fine,” I croak, voice strangled.“Totally fine.”
Roman hums, eyes still on the page, but the faint curve tugging at his mouth tells me he knows exactly what he just did.
ChapterTwelve
WILLOW
Tip 5: Touch lightly.
In theory, this one sounds simple.Casual.Totally non-dramatic.Just a brush of fingers, a nudge of the arm—something light enough to pass as friendly but intentional enough to make him notice.
In practice?Absolute fucking disaster.
We’re at the counter unpacking a shipment of books.Roman is doing his usual thing—stacking too many hardcovers in his arms like he’s auditioning for World’s Strongest Man—while I hover beside him, plotting my moment.
Okay, Willow.All you have to do is graze his hand.Totally natural.Totally breezy.People touch each other’s hands all the time.This is nothing.
I reach out, fingers aiming for the edge of the stack he’s holding.But instead of a light, graceful brush, I miscalculate.My hand slips and?—
CRASH.
Twenty copies of AChristmas Carolhit the floor like we just murdered Dickens himself.
Roman freezes, books still balanced precariously in his arms.Then he turns that maddening, infuriatingly amused grin on me.“Subtle,” he drawls.“Very subtle.”
Heat burns all the way up my neck.“I was—helping.That was me helping.”
“Helping what?Gravity?”He crouches to gather the fallen books, still grinning.“You trying to flirt with me, Princess, or stage a holiday massacre?”
I drop to my knees beside him, scrambling to shove books back into the box before I actually dissolve into the floor.“Oh my God, shut up.”
He doesn’t.Of course, he doesn’t.His shoulder brushes mine, warm and solid, and my stomach somersaults.Then his fingers catch mine on the same book, and the world goes still.
For a breath, neither of us moves.His hand is on mine—warm, rough, familiar—and I forget how to breathe.My heart is doing its best impression of a jackhammer.
Roman glances sideways, voice low, teasing but edged with something else.“If this is what happens when you touch lightly, I’m terrified to see what happens when you go all in.”
I snatch my hand back like I’ve been burned.“Shut.Up.”
He chuckles, the sound curling down my spine in ways it absolutely shouldn’t.“Whatever you say, Princess.”
ChapterThirteen
WILLOW
Tip 6: Engage in friendly competition.
Because nothing says “seduction” like humiliating yourself in public, right?
I spot my opportunity when Roman drags out the little stepstool to stock the higher shelves.He climbs up with that smug ease he has—like the laws of balance don’t apply to him—and starts sliding books into place.
“Bet I can finish my stack before you,” I blurt, arms full of paperbacks.
Roman glances down at me, one brow arched.“Is this … a challenge?”
“Obviously.”I huff, hoisting my pile dramatically.“Winner gets bragging rights.”
