“I don’t care what she does,” I say as I spin away and move over to the hose to fill up the reindeers’ water.
“And yet you said that like youdocare.”
I pause, gripping the hose tightly, because…the fucking audacity.
After everything she said about this town, she’s going to try to be the Christmas Kringle? She’s going to act like the goddamn belle of the ball and try to show her Christmas spirit? Like I said, I don’t give a shit who wins or about anything in the competition, but to see her try to snatch up a top honor in a town she hates?
Yeah, hates.
From her lips to my ears.Hate.
I don’t fucking think so.
“You know, people think she has a good chance at winning too,” Max presses. “Given that Cindy has come in second the last few years, they think that with her guidance, Storee can pull the win.”
That’s great…I don’t care.
I really shouldn’t care.
Sure, it’s annoying that someone like her would even attempt the competition, but I don’t care.
I turn on the hose and direct the water into the trough, trying to ignore the irritating feelings pulsing through me.
“In all honestly, I could see it happening. New girl in town, embracing Kringle for everything it has to offer, and being the merriest of them all. She has what it takes.”
No, she doesn’t.
Not that I know what it takes, because like I said, I don’t pay attention, but she most definitely does not have what it takes.
“And honestly, I think I might be rooting for her.”
That makes me snap becausethe fuck he is.
I turn off the water, set the hose down, and face my friend. “You will not be rooting for her. And no, she doesn’t have what it takes. Not even close.”
“Oh?” he asks, lifting one eyebrow. “I’m surprised you have an opinion.”
“It’s not an opinion; it’s a fact. And she doesn’t deserve to win. She shouldn’t even be in the competition. She’s not part of the town; she doesn’t live here. She doesn’t even like it here. Yeah, she told me that to my face. She said she hates this town, called it stupid.”
Max’s face goes from playful to hurt. All joking is aside now.
“She said that?”
I nod.
“When?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I practically huff as I turn to pick up the hose, but Max stops me.
“No, it clearly does because you’re angry about it. When did she say that to you?”
I twist my lips to the side, hating that I even brought it up, because I’ve bottled up this interaction for a long fucking time. But then one mention of her just pushes me over the edge, and I spill everything.
“It was…uh, it was the night my parents passed.”
“What?” he asks, his face growing even more serious. “You never told me that. What did she say?”
Looks like I’m unloading.
