Page 68 of Holiday Friend Zones
Something in my chest stumbles.I stare at him, at the challenge in his eyes, and before I can stop myself, I mutter, “Fine.But only because I want that prize money.”
He leans back, victorious.“Whatever you say, city girl.”
And that’s how I end up fake-dating Liam Carter for Christmas.
ChapterFour
LIAM
If you’d told me a week ago, I’d be fake-dating Ava Reynolds for Christmas, I would’ve laughed in your face.Now here we are, standing in the middle of the town square with matching scarves Mrs.McAllister insisted we wear, about to build a snowman in front of half the town.
“This is ridiculous,” Ava mutters, tugging her gloves tighter.
“Correction,” I say, crouching down to pack the first snowball.“This is tradition.”
She snorts, dropping to her knees across from me.“You just like showing off.”
“Guilty,” I admit, grinning.”You remember the snowmen I used to make.We’re gonna slaughter the competition.”
The rules are simple: biggest, best-decorated snowman in thirty minutes.Easy.Except Ava is rolling her baseball of snow like she’s got all the time in the world, her hair falling in her face, cheeks flushed pink.
I glance at our competition—eight, maybe ten other couples, all around our age, bundled up in knit hats and scarves, rolling snow with the kind of determination that says two thousand dollars and bragging rights are on the line.A few of them look like pros, already stacking perfect spheres, others are laughing too hard to make much progress.Either way, it’s not the cakewalk I’d hoped for.
“You’re making it too narrow,” I point out, nodding to her snowball.
She shoots me a look sharp enough to cut glass.“I know what I’m doing.It’s not that hard to make a round ball out of snow, Liam.”
“Do you?”I push.“Because that’s gonna topple.”
“Not if you quit distracting me.”
Ten minutes later, her snowball rolls off my base with a soft thud.She groans, tossing her gloves in the snow.
I can’t help it—I laugh.“Called it.”
“Don’t,” she warns, with the cutest scowl on her lips.
“Want help?”I ask, holding out a hand.
She stares at it for a long second before slipping her smaller, cold fingers into mine.I tug her to her feet, maybe holding on a beat too long, maybe not caring if she notices.
“Fine,” she says, brushing snow off her coat.“We’ll do it your way.”
My chest warms like I just won more than a snowman contest.
Together, we pack and roll, our gloves brushing, shoulders bumping as we push the heavy ball across the square.People cheer when we lift the middle section into place, Ava slipping on the snow and grabbing my arm for balance.Her laugh rings out—bright, unguarded—and I swear I’d build a hundred snowmen if it meant hearing that again.
When we step back, our snowman is solid, decorated with a carrot nose and a crooked grin courtesy of buttons Mrs.McAllister handed out.Ava props her hands on her hips, eyeing it critically.
“Not bad,” she admits.
“Not bad?”I feign outrage.“That’s a work of art.Future generations will talk about this snowman.”
She bumps me with her shoulder, finally grinning outright.“You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re smiling,” I counter.
Her grin falters just enough to make my chest tighten, but before I can overthink it, the judge announces us as the winners.The crowd cheers.I reach for her hand without thinking, raising it in victory, but I notice the way Ava avoids my eyes, the way she suddenly scans the crowd and seehim.And just like that, the victory feels a little hollow, because I know she’s not thinking about me anymore.She’s thinking about Derek…her ex.
