Chapter Three

Holly

I wake up in the middle of being attacked.

“Get up,” I hear Olivia say as a pillow hits my face.

I shake my head, groaning at her deafening voice. “Let me sleep,” I beg, twisting away from her on the bed. “I feel like I’m dying.”

“You look like it, too,” she says with a snicker. My best friend, ladies and gentlemen. “Come on, get up. You desperately need a shower. You stink.”

Olivia pulls the sheets off, and I start to plan her murder in my mind. “You’re evil,” I cry out, feeling the freezing New York air hit my skin. “Why are you waking me up at this ungodly hour?” My eyes blink open, squinting at the light coming in through the window.

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“What?” I sit up so fast, the aftermath of last night catches up to me and I groan when my head starts to pound. “Oh, god,” I cry out, holding my head in my hands. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Not on my mattress,” my best friend says, her voice rising two hundred octaves.

“I had work today,” I groan .

“I know,” Olivia says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I called in sick for you.” I groan again, and she shakes her head at me. “How much did you drink last night?”

“Way. Too. Much.”

“Yeah.” She places the back of her hand on my forehead. “I can see that. Do you even remember anything from last night?”

I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to recall the events of last night. What the hell happened? “I remember… being stood up.” I lift my head, frowning at Olivia. “Do you think he came in, saw me, and walked out?”

“What?” My best friend slaps at me.

“Ow. Why are you—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re gorgeous.”

I slap her hand away, narrowing my eyes at her. “I don’t see why I’m being assaulted for my beauty, then.” I let out a sigh, dropping my head onto her lap. “I was so excited for this date,” I tell her. “I even painted my nails.”

“I know, darling,” she says, petting my hair.

“I would have been a good date,” I murmur.

Her hand stops moving on my hair. “That’s debatable.”

“Hey,” I say, lifting my head off her lap to scowl at her.

“You’ve been on three shitty dates this month alone,” she says with an arched brow. “It probably wouldn’t have been amazing. And honestly, you suck at small talk. ”

“God,” I groan. “I hate small talk. How do you just talk to someone you don’t know?” I ask her. “How did we even become friends?”

“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug. “I just met you and then you never left.”

A grin spreads across my face. “And I never will.”

She smiles back and then snaps her fingers. “What about Mark?”

I blink. “Mark?” I repeat the foreign name.

“Yes. Mark.” She shakes her head at me. “The bartender? The guy who called me to come pick you up.”

“Oh my god,” I gasp. “Mark. Of course.” How could I forget?

“You seemed to be able to talk to him,” my best friend says.

“Yeah,” I muse, chuckling as last night’s memories come back to me. “He danced with me.”

“He did?” she asks, an amused look on her face. “He doesn’t look like the type of guy who likes dancing.”

I nod, letting out a soft laugh. “He didn’t want to,” I confirm. “But I made him. Granted, he barely moved, and then I broke one of his glasses.”

“Oh boy.”

“But you’re right. I somehow managed to talk to him.” Huh . “Maybe it was because there was no pressure,” I tell her. “I wasn’t on a date with him. He just served me drinks.”

“I guess,” she replies with a nod. “You’re always best when you’re you.”

My lips curl into a smirk. “Henry,” I call out to my best friend’s husband. “Your wife is flirting with me. ”

“We’re married,” he calls back.

Olivia smiles. “I don’t remember that.”

“My wallet sure fucking does.”

Olivia lets out a snort. “He’s so salty about that. Like, come on.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s been three years.”

“It was an expensive wedding, though.”

She lifts her shoulder. “He knew what he was getting involved with when he proposed. Besides, it wasn’t that expensive.”

I shoot her a look. “You had five ice sculptures.”

She waves me off. “They matched the crystal chandeliers.”

A laugh bubbles out of me. My best friend is ridiculous. I love her. “My point, exactly.”

“So…” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Mark?”

I tilt my head at her in amusement. “What’s with the eyebrow dance?”

“He was hot, right?”

“You’re married,” I remind her with a laugh. “Your husband is like…” I gesture toward the door. “Right there.”

Her eyes roll as she nudges me in the arm. “I meant for you.”

“Oh…” I furrow my brows, thinking about it. I did call him hot last night. But was that just the alcohol? “I guess.”

Olivia nods, a smirk curling her lips. “He was like a real burly man, you know?”

“I thought so, too,” I say with a chuckle. “Until he called me, Bambi.”

“He did?” she asks with a laugh. “Like on Ice? ”

I nod, feeling my face heat up. “He didn’t know my name, and I guess I tripped a few times, and it just… stuck.” I shake my head. “Alcohol and balance do not go hand in hand.”

“Bambi,” Olivia muses, chuckling at the name. “I can totally see that.”

“No.” My eyes widen. “Oh, god, no. Please don’t make that a thing.”

“Babe,” she calls out to Henry. “We’re calling Holly Bambi from now on.”

“Okay.”

Olivia turns back to face me with a grin.

“I hate you,” I tell her.

“I love you, too,” she says, blowing me a kiss as she lifts herself off the bed. “Do you want some food?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head, disgusted at the idea. I just need to sleep for three business days, and I should be better.

“It’ll help your hangover,” she says, tilting her head at me. Being a personal chef, she’s used to feeding people being her remedy for everything.

I’m willing to try anything to get rid of this feeling. I’m never drinking that much ever again. “What do you have?”

“Food,” she says with a shrug.

“Wow.” I let out a scoff. “So specific.”

“Whatever you want, we probably have it.”

I furrow my brows in concentration. “Duck.”

My best friend blinks. “Duck?”

“Yes. I want duck,” I confirm with a nod .

She pauses, her eyes locked on mine. “But… we don’t have duck.”

“Ah. Ah.” I hold my finger up. “You said you had everything.”

“Yes, but—”

“Is duck not a food?”

“It is, but—”

“Then I want duck.”

Her mouth gapes open. “But…” She stomps her foot. “We don’t have duck.”

My head tips back as I let out a laugh. I love fucking with her. “I’m joking,” I say between laughs. “I want a cinnamon roll.”

She lets out a breath, smiling a little. “That, I can do.”

She walks out of the room and I fall back on the bed with a smile on my face. Thoughts of last night come back into my head, and I feel my smile widen when I remember how I ended up having a good time, even if my date didn’t show up.

Reaching over to my nightstand, I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts, pausing when I see ‘Grinch’. A laugh bubbles out of me, and before I can think about it, I press call and bring my phone to my ear.

The line rings for a few seconds before he picks up. “Uh… hi?”

I smile at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Grinch.”

“Bambi.”

My smile widens as I settle onto my side. “The one and only.”

“Well.” He clears his throat. “There’s the actual deer, for one. ”

“Sure. But how many girls do you call Bambi?” I reply.

“Only you.”

“Only me,” I repeat with a smile.

“I’m actually kind of busy here. Is there a reason you’re calling? You get home okay?”

“Yes. Thank you for that.” I sit up, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed. “I was actually seeing if you’re still up for what we agreed on last night?”

“Uh…” I hear him moving, and I feel a little guilty that I called him while he was at work. “Remind me what that was again?” he asks.

“Being my dating coach.”

A heavy breath leaves him. “Okay, well, I definitely didn’t agree to that.”

“Come on,” I plead. “You’re good.”

“I’m… good?” he repeats.

“Yes,” I tell him. “You can like…” I wave my hands in the air. “Talk.”

“And what you’re doing right now isn’t talking?”

I blow out a breath. “You know what I mean.”

I hear him grunt on the other end. “Holly, I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

“I…” He pauses, clearing his throat. “I am?”

“Yes,” I confirm, rolling onto my stomach. “You were so easy to talk to last night,” I tell him. “I had so much fun with you.”

“Alcohol will do that for you,” he replies.

I groan. Convincing him is harder than I thought. “Come on, Grinchy.”

“I don’t—”

“Do this for me,” I ask him again. “Please?”

“I don’t think—”

“What do you want in return?” I ambush him before he can reject me. “Do you want me to set you up on a date?”

A breath leaves his lips. “I highly doubt you’d be able to do that, Bambi.”

A loud gasp escapes me as I place my hand on my chest. “You’re doubting my skills?”

“Since you’re asking me for dating advice, yes.”

“You know…” I swing my legs back and forth. “My friend thinks you’re hot.”

“Funnel Cakes?” he asks, unconvinced. “Isn’t she married… and pregnant?”

“She’d be up for it,” I say instead. She won’t. She’s stinkingly in love with her husband, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Where the hell did you come from?” he says with a voice that sounds almost like amusement. One step closer to making him smile. “You’re the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.”

“So you’ll do it?” I ask, hope lingering in my chest.

“Jesus fuck.”

My eyes widen, a grin forming on my lips. “That’s a yes.”

“That’s not a yes,” he replies, and I can almost picture him scowling .

I smirk, because… it’s a yes. “You’re not saying no,” I point out.

Mark doesn’t reply, and with every second of silence passing through us, the hope builds.

“It’s a yes,” I say when he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re impossible. Fine, yes. I’ll be your… whatever the hell it is.”

“Dating coach,” I finish for him.

“Yeah. That.”

I do a little happy dance, pumping my fist in the air. “And you’re sure you don’t want anything in return?” I ask him.

“I don’t think there’s much you can give me.”

“Well…” I tap my chin. “I could make you a sweater?”

“You knit?”

“No.” I frown. “But I could learn.”

“I’m good,” he replies.

“A hat?”

A light scoff escapes him. “Do you think I need new clothes or something?”

I smirk. “Well…”

“Bye, Holly.”

I let out a laugh. “Wait. Where do you want to meet?”

“You can just come over to the bar.”

Oh, god no. My face twists, wincing. “If I smell alcohol for the next year, I think it will be too soon.”

“Your hangover’s that bad, huh?” Mark asks.

“Horrendous,” I affirm.

“Okay.” He lets out a breath. “Then, just pick a place. Text it to me.”

“Do you even know how to text, old man?” I tease.

“Didn’t anyone tell you to respect your elders?”

“Ha.” I laugh. “You just called yourself old.”

“Bye, Bambi.”

“Bye, Mark.”

I hang up the phone, my eyes drifting to my mirror, where I see the huge smile on my face.

I have a very good feeling about this.

My nose twitches when I smell my favorite smell in the world.

“I smell cinnamon,” I call out, jumping out of bed before heading into the kitchen.