“Bathroom’s all yours,” he says.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” I mutter, slipping off the bed and scooping up my toiletries. I lock myself behind the big, wooden door and brace my hands against the sink. I take a long, hard look in the mirror. “Get a grip, Violet. Don’t be a freak.”
I wash, brush, floss, and change into my sleep shorts and tank top. When I emerge, Landon has an old movie playing on the TV, casting a faint glow about the hotel room. I hurry across the room, bending down to tuck my clothes back in my suitcase, and when I turn around, I’m surprised to find Landon staring at me strangely, eyes raking over my exposed legs and arms. I don’t miss the heated look about them, a look that makes my insides liquify, and I suck in a slow, steadying breath. When he realizes that I’m watching him, though, the look vanishes, and he clears his throat, leaning back on the bed.
“You are aware that there’s glitter on your ass spelling out the wordJuicy, aren’t you?” he asks.
I kind of want to call him out, because there’s no way he’d know that unless he was staring at my backside, but I think better of it. I focus all my energy on keeping my voice from shaking when I say, “I did know that, actually, considering I bought these shorts myself.” They’re short, pink, sparkly, and I couldn’t resist. I shift my hips, showing them off a little. “Cute, aren’t they? I’m a sucker for rhinestones.”
Landon’s eyes linger on my hips for a second longer than necessary before he looks away. “They’re…something.”
I bounce onto the bed beside him and cross my legs in front of me. “I’ll get you some matching sweatpants for Christmas since you love them so much.” I pause. “You do celebrate Christmas, don’t you?”
“Unfortunately.”
My eyebrows shoot up at his response. “Unfortunately? Christmas is the happiest time of year for most people.”
Landon leans back against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest. “I thought we’d established that I’m not like most people. I find Christmas quite depressing.”
“Here it is,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Here comes the Ba Humbug speech about how Christmas is a consumer holiday that glorifies forced giving, false cheer, and overspending.”
“You’re right,” he says. “But that wasn’t what I was going to say. I was going to say that it’s hard to love such a family-centric holiday when you have a family like mine.”
“Well, what about Eli?” I ask.
“Eli’s not invited to Christmas dinner,” Landon says flatly. “Mom and Dad make that very clear.”
“That sucks. Eli really knows how to lighten a mood.”
“Yeah, he does,” Landon agrees. “They hate that about him.”
“For a while, it was just my dad and me on Christmas. Last year was the first year Becca came. That was interesting.”
“Becca?”
“My dad’s girlfriend. They’ve been dating for almost two years now.” I frown, trying to remember the last time I talked to him on the phone. It’s been a while, and I know I haven’t been the best daughter lately, dodging calls and avoiding the truth. Once I get back from this trip, I swear I’ll come clean and tell my dad what’s really been going on with Mel. It’s long overdue.
“Do you like her?”
His question pulls me out of my guilt spiral. “Yeah, I guess. She’s nice. I’m happy my dad’s not lonely, at least.”
“Will you see him this Christmas?” There’s an underlying edge to his voice, almost like he doesn’t like the thought of me leaving during the holidays. But no. I’m probably reading into it. He’ll be withhisfamily, after all. Why would he care where I’m going?
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead, honestly. But no way am I going back home, so I guess I won’t see him this year.” Who knowswhenI’ll see him. “Maybe I can convince Brit or Sienna to take me in with the promise of baked goods. I make excellent gingerbread cookies.”
Landon doesn’t respond. His face is carefully blank...except for his eyes. In the soft glow of the TV screen, I see the sadness in them. Or maybe it’s regret. “We should go to sleep,” he says after a while, shifting away from me. “It’s getting late.”
“Yeah, okay,” I murmur, sliding my legs beneath the covers. I slump down on the mattress, my head landing on the pillow with athumpas Landon clicks off the TV. The room goes dark. I stare at the ceiling.
“Goodnight, Violet,” he says, rolling over and giving me his back.
“Night,” I respond softly, turning in the opposite direction.
But I’m not tired. I’m wide awake. Wide awake and completelyawareof Landon’s proximity. Of his warm skin and his inviting scent and his long, lean body stretched out beside mine under the thin hotel sheets.
Last night I was paralyzed, but the darkness is different tonight. It feels dangerous. Inviting.
“Violet?” He says my name in that deep, slow voice, and my breath catches.
