Chapter 10 #2
And now here he was. Playing Hot Santa. Jingle balls and all.
I watched as his gaze went straight to Natalie’s, a slow, eager smirk spreading across his stupid face.
Natalie’s eye twitched.
Mine did, too.
Fuck.
I wasn’t sure what was worse—the obnoxiously cheerful Christmas music playing in the background or the fact that Brian Sanders was practically drooling over Natalie right in front of me.
Scratch that. It was Brian.
Definitely Brian.
I was hungover. I was pissed off. And I was exactly five seconds away from stabbing him with the decorative peppermint stir stick in my coffee.
It wasn’t enough that Natalie was avoiding me like I was a particularly clingy Christmas ghost. That she was dodging every compliment I tossed her way like she had a deflector shield and responded to most of my comments with grunts, glares, or outright threats involving hot coffee.
The universe wasn’t done humiliating me.
It had to throw Brian into the mix.
I hadn’t seen him since school, but the sight of him sauntering into brunch dressed as Santa was enough to make my entire mood nose-dive.
Brian, who had spent every second of junior year trying to wedge himself between Natalie and me.
Brian, who I knew deep in my soul had been lying in wait for the moment I was out of the picture.
Brian, who was now grinning at her like he’d just been given a personal Christmas miracle.
I clenched my jaw as he plopped into the seat beside her, draping his arm over the back of her chair like he belonged there.
Natalie stiffened, but she didn’t push him off.
Blood pounded in my ears as I stared at them, my fork clenched so tightly in my hand that I was ninety percent sure I could bend steel now. My pancakes sat untouched, getting colder by the second as I watched them.
He leaned in toward her, whispering something stupid in her ear with that same grin that used to make girls in high school swoon and guys in locker rooms roll their eyes.
Natalie wasn’t laughing. Thank fuck. She was giving him that same unimpressed stare that used to make teachers, coaches, and rogue homecoming DJs shrivel in fear.
It was the you’re-on-thin-fucking-ice look.
The one she’d given me once when I’d called her dog ugly.
But Brian? He was too stupid to be scared.
“Damn, Nat,” he said, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe his own luck. “You look better than ever. Seriously, if I’d known Santa was delivering gifts this early, I would’ve left out some milk and cookies last night.”
My jaw clenched. “Milk and cookies”? This dumbass.
I was going to commit a crime. A very festive, red-and-green-tinted crime. There would be carolers singing in the background as I ended him with a plastic reindeer antler.
Natalie huffed a small laugh, stabbing a piece of bacon with unnecessary force. “Right. Because that’s not the creepiest way you could’ve said that.”
Brian just grinned, clearly proud of himself.
“I mean it,” he went on, undeterred by her lack of interest. “You ever sit on Santa’s lap, Nat? ’Cause I’ve got a sleigh big enough for two.”
I nearly snapped my fork in half.
Natalie closed her eyes and massaged her temples like she could physically remove the trauma he was causing. “Brian, are you drunk?”
“Not yet,” he said smoothly, leaning closer with the world’s most confident smirk for a man in a fake white beard and jingle-bell suspenders. “But I’d love to jingle your bells later if you’re free.”
That was it.
That one didn’t even make sense.
It was time for him to go.
I shoved back my chair, the legs scraping against the floor so loudly that at least four people flinched and turned. Including Natalie.
“Easton?” She blinked, surprised.
But I wasn’t looking at her.
I was looking at Brian.
Brian, who was still grinning like this was some charming spectacle and not a public humiliation countdown.
I didn’t say a word. Just casually tossed my napkin down on my plate like I wasn’t seconds away from committing a misdemeanor.
Natalie barely spared me another glance, too busy trying to annihilate her breakfast like it had personally offended her entire bloodline. Which was fine. Perfect, actually. She didn’t need to be a witness.
I waited until Brian got up—probably to go admire himself in the bathroom mirror or rehearse his next horrifying holiday innuendo—and then I followed him. Quietly. Calmly .
Kind of like a psychopath.
He had just pushed open the bathroom door when I picked up my pace, shoving in right behind him before he even knew I was there.
“Dude, what the?—”
He didn’t get the rest of that sentence out because I grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him toward the utility closet next to the sinks.
Brian barely had time to blink before I yanked the door open, shoved him inside, and slammed it shut.
“What the hell?!” His voice was muffled through the wood. “Easton? What the fuck, dude, let me out!”
I snapped the lock on the outside, just to be safe, and grinned like the unhinged ex-boyfriend rom-coms had warned Natalie about.
I knocked twice on the door for good measure. “I’d love to, Bri. But Santa’s got a schedule to keep.”
“Easton, you crazy bastard, let me out!” he shouted, pounding like he was in a horror movie and not a cleaning supply prison of his own making.
I adjusted my sleeves, took one last satisfied look at the vibrating door, and strolled out of the bathroom like I had all the time in the world.
Brian was going to be busy with a mop for a while.
And me?
I had a girl to win back.