Page 13 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show

Perfect.

I’ve spent years running from Ashcove, from jocks, from everything Luke reminds me of. And now I’ll be trapped with him.

CHAPTER SIX

Luke

I march from the conference room and go straight to one of the exercise rooms. I head for the weight rack and pick up some heavy dumbbells, sit on the bench, and start lifting.

Normally, the counting soothes me, but today my body remains jittery. Maybe I’m still exhausted from my late-night session yesterday. I grit my teeth and set my jaw.

Troy and Noah are on the treadmills, and I close my eyes.

Apparently, that doesn’t keep them from noticing me, because when I finish my set, Troy is grinning at me.

“So, how was the meeting?” Troy asks.

I glower at my best friend and roommate. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Troy says blithely, and now I only hate how much I do.

“You ruined my favorite show.”

His face sobers. “Really?”

“But you got to meet Sebastian Archer in person.” Noah’s eyes dance like he knows a secret. “Bet that was...cool.”

“He hates me.”

Troy blinks. “Everyone likes you, dude.”

“Yeah, there’s no way that’s true.” Noah plops onto the bench beside me, sending me his sunshine smile that’s been firmly in place ever since Finn declared to the world that Noah is absolutely awesome.

“What makes you think he doesn’t?” Troy looks like he’s debating going to yell at Sebastian for not being nice to me. I sigh.

“He was fine,” I say. “Everything is fine.”

“You said fine twice.” Noah chews on his lower lip.

“Then it must be true.” I don’t bother to mask the fakeness in my voice.

Troy’s expression darkens, protective angry roommate mode activated.

I shrug. “It’s a short program. Just one month. It doesn’t matter.”

Noah and Troy exchange worried looks. They should have acted more concerned before they signed me up.

I close my eyes.

I’ve never told Troy and Noah that I know Sebastian. It would be a strange thing to say, especially because they might ask me if I’d reached out to him or something. It seems less weird to be mildly obsessed with a TV show where I don’t know anything about the host. And the guy I knew in high school is different from the guy now. He was less confident, more meek, and less...dazzling.

I’m also pretty sure the guy in high school knew who I was. This guy hasn’t once mentioned he knows me. Am I forgettable?

I close my eyes.

I’m taller, broader, more chiseled.

But I was obsessed with hockey back then and that obsession hasn’t changed. God, wouldn’t he know I was from Ashcove? Wouldn’t that trigger something in him?