Dylan
The skinny little firecracker in the year below me had grown into a beauty. Her hair is chocolate brown now, which makes her look classic and elegant. Her hair is in a sleek bob that frames her pixie-like features, her green eyes glinting as she shoots me a look.
“Did he answer?”
I glance down at the phone, shaking my head.
“I’ve got no signal,” I mumble with confusion. “That’s odd.”
She purses her lips then, clearly unhappy about being stuck here with me. She’s wearing black tights and a tight dress that hugs her curves, which are fuckingmajestic. I can’t stop staring at her lips either, and I’m trying not to seem like a creep.
But Merry Christmas is pretty fucking special. I used to think she was cute back in school, but she was so quiet and timid I just added her to the teasing list. I was a bit of a dick, and her reaction to me in the truck was evidence of that alright.
“Try again,” she urges, and I sigh, knowing the call won’t go through. This snowstorm is pretty bad, and it only seems to be getting worse. “I need to call Cassie, or she will be panicking,” she adds, chewing on her lip.
She drags her hands through her hair with frustration when I hold the phone up to show her there’s no signal.
“Argh!” Merry groans, jumping to her feet as she paces around in her silly boots.
How did she even drive in those things?
Nice fucking legs, though.
“I can’t believe I’m stuckhere,” she complains, waving her phone in the air like it’s gonna make an iota of difference. “Do you have the internet?”
I can’t help but tease her.
“The what?”
“The internet, Dylan,” Merry says irritably, turning to me with exasperation.
“Sorry, never heard of it.” I bite my tongue to stop me from laughing when she pales, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m kidding. No, I just use my phone.”
“You don’t have WiFi?” She repeats, as though I’ve just said I don’t have a toilet, and I piss at the wall.
“No, to be fair, I’m usually out and about, so I just use my phone.”
“Brilliant.”
“We’ll keep trying,” I say when she closes her eyes, her fingers trembling slightly. She flinches at my words, her eyes pinging open with shock.
What did I say?
“Trying,” she echoes, a vacant expression on her face. “Okay.”
She’s definitely a few sandwiches short of a picnic, this girl. She slumps down beside me on the sofa, a dejected expression on her face. She’d snapped at me when I’d asked about the wedding ring situation, but I’m curious.
Why is a gorgeous woman like her down here on her own at Christmas if she’s married? Her sister is lovely enough, but she has her hands full with the kids.
“Where’s your Christmas tree?” Merry asks suddenly, scanning the room.
“I don’t care much for Christmas; I told you.” I sigh.
Not since Goldie left me. On Christmas-fucking-Eve, for her ‘best friend.’
“So?”
I frown, looking up to see her gazing at me expectantly.
