She just laughs. “Pretty sure those two things aren’t related. And technically, neither are you two. Oh my God, Lucy. You should have a little Christmas fling. Let him stuff your stocking, if you know what I mean.”
I roll my eyes. “Be serious.”
“I’m being totally serious, Lucy. This is a genius plan,” she says, twirling her platinum blonde hair around her finger. “Think about it. He’s home for the holidays, and so are you. He’s hot for your body, and you want to climb him like a tree.”
“I am not hot for his body,” I stammer. “I just…”
“Bullshit,” she coughs. “I saw you guys together at Cait’s party. And back at camp, you two were so hot for each other, you could have started a damn bonfire.”
“It’s different now,” I tell her, hoping to convince myself, as well.
She gives me a look of disbelief. “Pretty sure it’s not. I can easily imagine you getting all hot and bothered over breakfast this morning. The boy might drive you nuts, but he also turns you on.”
She’s right.
“So, like I was saying, you both indulge in a little fantasy this holiday season. What’s the harm in that?”
“What’s the harm in that? Are you crazy? I can’t just proposition him. What if he laughs in my face?”
“Lucy, stop. You never got over him. You may not want to acknowledge it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Back then, I steered you far away, but you didn’t listen. He was such a dork. And do you remember how chunky he was? But these days, Caleb Whitman is a hot commodity. Face it, Lucy, your stepbrother is entirely fuckable. And don’t take this the wrong way,” she says, twirling her straw idly in her fingers, “but you look like you could use a good fucking.”
Alyssa gets a text, and her attention is momentarily diverted. It’s a good thing because I’m not sure what to be bothered by first. Should I be offended that she insinuated I need to get laid? Maybe? I mean, people always say that, like sex is some panacea that relaxes every muscle and cures every ill. And yes, my night with Whit all those months ago was wonderful. But that doesn’t mean we should do it again.
But worse than saying I look like I need a little release was the fat-shaming. What the hell? It’s the 21st century, for God’s sake. I thought we were well past that. But I don’t have the energy to argue or educate. This whole shopping date has been a bit of a flop, so I’m drumming up an excuse to get out of here.
“Oh my God, Lucy. Don’t look behind you, but—”
Of course, I turn my head to look behind me, and Alyssa smacks my hand. “I said not to look!”
Without turning back around to face her, I sigh. What is it I’m not supposed to be looking at?
“Do you see the guy at Sephora? The one wearing a trucker hat? He’s standing next to a guy in a leather jacket.”
I scan the line across the way. “Yeah. So?”
“Look to his left.”
“His left? There’s a tall guy with sandy brown— Oh. My. God. Of course he’s here. Of course he’s left his shopping until the very last minute!”
“Maybe he’s picking up something nice for you?”
“Maybe,” I shrug. “I got him a hoodie because I plan ahead, and that’s a good gift for anyone. He doesn’t have to get me anything though. I’m probably not on his list.”
“Maybe he’ll get you something really good if you get on his list...his naughty list.”
She’s cracking herself up with these holiday-themed innuendos, but there’s something she’s missing. “That’s crazy, Alyssa. He’s my stepbrother now. I can’t date him.”
“Whoa. Slow down. Who said anything about dating? Gross. He’s your stepbrother. Of course, you can’t date. Can you even imagine what people would say? But you can have a little holiday hump, you know? Enjoy the hell out of that body between now and New Year’s. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You’re crazy, Alyssa.”
“I’m not crazy. I’m right. Besides, you don’t date a guy like Whit. I tried to tell you that when you were crushing on him years ago. He’s fuck-able, not date-able. Can you even imagine bringing him to an event? His pedigree and inheritance aside, you can’t take that boy anywhere but a frat party. But you can let him do dirty, filthy things to you.”
Her suggestion is absurd and insulting, but also tempting. How am I going to spend the next week in the same house with him? “Let’s finish up your list.” I say, standing. I’m not eager to get back into the throngs of people, but I’m anxious as hell to find a different topic and to steer clear of Whit.
Because the truth is, I totally would have kissed him this morning, if our parents hadn’t come home. If we hadn’t been interrupted, I’d have pressed my lips to his and let our bodies meld together. And no matter how much I want that, or how badly Alyssa thinks I need it, I can’t let it happen.
Chapter 8
