“How’d you guess?” Sylas says sardonically.
“In all the years I’ve cleaned your home, you’ve never had any decorations up. And you…I don’t know. It seems like it’s an inconvenience to you.”
I sit at a bench, and he kneels down.
My heart takes flight the same way it did earlier when he offered to help me put on my skates and tie them for me. It’s unnecessary, really, but there’s a softness in his smile, a warmth in his eyes that makes me shudder. Not because I’m cold, but because I’m burning in a way that makes all these layers of clothes unbearable.
“You really don’t have?—”
“I want to. Let me,” he implores gently, his eyes a sharp green color like two pools of emeralds. They’re pretty, hard to look away from, hard to say no to.
“Okay.” I feel shy, I don’t know why. He’s doing something nice, but it’s intimate. The way he loosens the strings, makes sure my foot doesn’t touch the ground. His hands, despite their size, hold my foot with so much care and consideration it makes the burn inside magnify. He makes me feel like I’m something precious to him.
My stomach somersaults and I have to remind myself to focus on his lips moving and the words coming out of his mouth.
“I don’t hate the holiday itself I guess…my parents…they make it about them. It’s all fake—everything we do, how we do it. The constant smiles, pretending to like everyone, getting along with everyone, pleasing everyone, it gets tiring.”
It’s no different than what we’re doing, I want to say. And it’s like he knows what I’m thinking because he looks up at me.
“I’m not tired of this, Anna. I like this,” he assures me, his voice decisive like it’s not something he needed to think about or say to placate me. “Believe me?”
“I do.” And I mean it.
“Let’s hurry and get you warmed up.”
21
SYLAS
Wednesday, December 18
Berlin: When the fuck were you going to tell us you have a girlfriend? A GIRLFRIEND!!!!
Frost: Anna Lopez?? The girl from Salt. The girl who bid on you?? There’s no way she agreed to be with you of all people.
Berlin: Does she know she’s your girlfriend?
Frost: Poor thing. She was probably coerced. How’d you do it, Sy? How’d you get her to agree to put up with you?
Since the guysfound out about Anna, they’ve been asking questions nonstop. I’ve been ignoring them because I didn’t really know what to say.
Everything was supposed to stop at the auction, then I lied and it evolved into more. Marc knows everything, as does my sister, but that’s as many people as I want knowing.
I could tell the guys—I trust them, but I know Frost is interested. I don’t care what he says or how he tries to downplay it, since the night at Salt, he’s had his eye on her. Frost is a good guy, but he’s also an opportunist. I know the moment he finds out it’s fake, he’ll reach out and shoot his shot. And Berlin, he’s close to Frost, like I’m close with Marc.
Though I shouldn’t be worried, because we’re “dating” whether or not my parents are around. That sounds ridiculous, and in some way, complicated—like Marc and Thea implied the other day.
I know I’m being a little bitch by not forwardly asking Anna if she wants to give this a shot. It’s obvious we’re into each other. It’s obvious something is there. I can’t ignore the way my heart, mind, and body react and gravitate toward her whenever she’s around.
I kept telling myself it wasn’t a crush because I’ve never had one, never felt one, never cared for anyone, but I knew it was real when my first thought this morning wasn’t hockey but Anna. I thought about how she’d come over today and how I cleaned and felt I did better than last time. I wondered what earrings she’d wear because every time I see her, she has a different pair on. If she’ll wear contacts or glasses. If she’ll have her hair up or down or in those space buns.
I keep wondering about things I never did before, craving them even. Things that before Anna were inconsequential to me.
But despite the obvious sexual tension, because there’s a lot of that, I don’t know for sure if Annalikesme.
I could ask but if she says no, it’ll make things weird, and weird is not something I need.
So if pretending is as good as it’ll get, then so be it.
