How My Brother's Best Friend Stole Christmas - Molly O'Keefe Page 0,15

Pull me from this moment into the next moment. But he just lifted my touch away from his body and let go.

“I don’t want this,” he said, and I blinked. The words not making sense. Not want? He was just on his knees. He was just kissing me, grabbing my ass. What didn’t he want? The words…oh God. They settled like punches to my stomach.

“Fuck you Fucking Sam Porter,” I snapped, pushing myself off my desk. I stumbled a little in the high heels, my legs unsteady because Sam had made me come so hard my knees were broken. He reached out to steady me, his fingertips against the skin of my waist, and I glared at him so hard he pulled his hand back.

Practically naked, I shoved the dress down off my body. Standing there in a thong and high heels. His eyes swept over me and blazed hot. That was something, at least. A reaction. I pulled my hoodie on over my bare tits and bent over to take off my shoes.

“Get out of here,” I said.

He stepped back and didn’t leave.

“You have a hearing problem now?” I asked. Almost yelling. I felt some hysterical scream building in me. I’d been embarrassed before. Hair like mine, grades like mine, temper like mine, job like mine. Parents like mine. But this was something else. A whole new level.

“You’re going back upstairs?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I lied, kicking off my shoes and pulling on my jeans.

“Okay. I’ll…see you up there.”

“Fantastic.” I took my straw hair and pulled it up in a ponytail, still not looking at him. Still willing him into a hole in the earth. But he didn’t move. “I need a second, asshole.” I glared at him and he nodded.

“I’ll be upstairs,” he said.

In the silence he left behind I gathered up my crap and grabbed my keys, and in the lobby I headed outside instead of into an elevator. The party would do just fine without me.

All those years of wishing and I’d finally kissed Sam Porter. And I’d built it up as the happiest thing that could happen to me. The beginning of something. And somehow it felt like the end. I didn’t know how we could be friends after this.

My brother was married. And I didn’t know what was going on. I felt, oddly, like crying.

The employee parking lot was empty except for my Jeep and a couple of the delivery vans.

And Sam.

Of course. Standing under one of the lights in the parking lot.

“What are you doing?”

“I knew you weren’t going to go back up to that party.”

“Yeah, well, bully for you.”

Sam caught me at the edge of the light. Reaching for me, but stopping himself before actually touching me. But it hardly mattered. I was peeled, raw, inside out. Standing close to him hurt.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice that calm, deep murmur that made it hard to breathe. “Your brother and everything…with us. I just want to be sure you’re okay.”

I walked right on by him, giving him the finger as I went.

He didn’t get to know how I was. Not anymore.

7

Christmas morning used to be one of my favorite days. Not just the presents, which, you know, who doesn’t like presents? My dad was very good at trying to buy his family’s love and before we caught on, my brother and I were pretty easily bought.

But Christmas was one of the few days my whole family would be in the room together. My dad, whom I’d so rarely seen when I was a kid, would come down unshaven and in his robe. My mom managed to unscrew her lips enough to smile. And Wes. My parents weren’t great with tradition, but Wes and I picked up the slack. He used to do this thing where he’d get me a theme gift—the year I was crazy for Pink! He made this scavenger hunt to find the T-shirt, the poster, and the concert tickets he’d bought for me. And every year I bought the craziest, sometimes grossest candy I could find, going so far as to have friends ship things from overseas, and stuffed a stocking full of things to satisfy his legendary sweet tooth.

After Mom and Dad fought and left—Dad for the office, Mom for a bottle of white wine—Wes and I would sit there in the ocean of torn wrapping paper, surrounded by all the trappings of Christmas, and I would think my brother and I were being a family despite my parents.