Page 102 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show

Luke frowns.

A knock sounds on the door. Luke’s calmness has been replaced with panic, and I squeeze my eyes shut, because I don’t want to see that.

I don’t want to see panic and regret and polite, and frankly not that polite, distancing.

I don’t want to see any of that.

I want to live in my memories, to keep everything else safe, so I can tell myself the reason we are not together is because of distance and jobs, and not because of me. Not because Luke would be embarrassed to be with me. Not because the thought of Troy knowing we were together sends him leaping through the bed faster than if he’d chugged two Red Bulls.

Padding sounds, and I wonder if it’s the sound of my heart. But it grows louder, Luke grows more distressed, filling the trash can with tissues to obscure the remnants of our night together, scrunching them in his hands and dropping them inside.

The doorknob turns, and in the next moment Luke flings his sweatshirt over my head, and I still.

I am not here. I do not exist.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Luke

The sweatshirt lands neatly over Sebastian’s body. Maybe I should have gone into football.

The door opens and my super annoying roommate stands in front of me. I block the room as best as I can, and pretend my heart isn’t beating at a speed that would normally cause my athletic trainer to insist on strapping me to various heart monitoring devices if he caught me like that during practice.

I’m fine.

Sebastian is hidden.

He’s hidden and still.

I didn’t have to tell him, and he knew what I wanted. My eyes soften, and I stare misty-eyed at the bed, until I realize that probably Troy might think that’s strange.

I mean, I don’t generally stare sentimentally at unmade beds. It’s never been my thing. I’m more of a seize the morning and make your bed type of guy, army style.

I turn back to Troy. He’s definitely giving me a weird look.

Shit.

“Sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I wanted to apologize for making the alarm too loud. I’ll, um, get out of your hair. Just going to yoga.”

“Have a good time,” I say.

“I’ll be extra bendy.” He chews his lips and backs away. “Sorry again.”

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” I say quickly. “Good time to wake up. Really awesome.”

He eyes me hesitantly.

“I didn’t mean in a sarcastic way,” I explain.

He grins. “You don’t do sarcastic.”

“You, um, want to talk?”

His eyebrows rise. “You want to talk?”

“I mean, because I have nothing to do. Absolutely nothing. I was sleeping. But um, now, I’m not!”

“Okay. Cool.” Troy sweeps the room with his all-seeing goalie eyes, the kind that sees disaster long before anyone else, who is the first to spot a small piece of black sliding toward him, who is quick with his body. “You know you can tell me anything, bro?”