CHAPTER FIFTY

S ebastian

Christmas music thrums in the background, and the scent of cookies fills the air as Flora and Willow cook their favorite Christmas treats to present to Luke at the Christmas Eve live show.

I lean against a wallpapered wall and reread Luke’s string of text messages for the umpteenth time.

“Do I need to remind my senior staff not to check their phones?” Clark’s voice interrupts me, and I nearly drop the phone. I hastily sneak it back into my pocket. “It is unfair to Willow and Flora to flaunt your phone when they are not allowed to use theirs.”

“We don’t mind,” Flora says, exchanging a glance with Willow.

I hate this.

I hate that everyone knows.

Flora and Willow are sweet in their way, which probably goes to show that Luke knows exactly what he’s doing by selecting both of them to be in his final two.

I give them a wobbly smile, because face it, I’m jealous.

One of them he’s going to officially date.

“I’m half convinced I should fire you,” Clark says.

I stiffen. My colleagues are around me. The camera is filming. Is this also going to be added to the show?

I duck my head and try to look uninteresting, even though my heart beats madly. “I understand.”

“In fact...”

I brace myself.

“Maybe I would, but we have the Christmas Eve Live. Lucky you.”

“Lucky me,” I say softly.

Something bangs in the kitchen, and Flora is frowning. “I broke this! How clumsy of me!”

The crew move to get a better shot of the shards of red porcelain on the kitchen floor, and Clark follows inside.

I press my lips together.

“Tell me what’s going on between you and Luke,” Ella says, wrapping my hands in hers, and dragging me to the couch.

I glance at her, and she is all sympathy.

I want to tell her everything.

I want to tell her that I’m pretty sure that I fell in lo—

Well. Maybe I wouldn’t tell her that because I’m not sure it’s true.

Except it definitely feels true. It feels absolutely true.

“You like him, huh? Bryce was right?” Her eyes sparkle, and this feels like normal.

It feels like going out for drinks after work at rooftop bars or ordering takeout at work and playing loud music when we have the floor to ourselves.

Except...

My gaze falls on a camera.

Why is she asking me this here? When cameras surround me?

Something doesn’t make sense. The Ella I knew was smart. She would spot a fake application during one of the final rounds. Why would she agree to a telephone interview and not set up a videoconference? Why would she announce his name before getting proper confirmation he was interested?

Because she wanted to pressure him.

She wanted his agent to see lots of reasons why he should participate. Maybe she even wanted to pressure me to get him, because she knew my stance on jocks. At least, my former stance on jocks.

I scrunch my lips together. I want to tell Ella everything, but instead I rise.

“I should go.”

“We’re still filming.”

“I trust you to let me know if there’s anything I should do to narrate.”

“But—”

I don’t turn back. I feel her still looking at me, but I only quicken my steps. I need to get out of here. I grab my coat, and button it up as I step into Boston’s winter. The chill refreshes me. Instead of turning to the house, I turn toward the Charles. I quicken my pace and take out my phone. I press on Luke’s name.

He doesn’t answer.

For a moment, all the bad thoughts rise through me.

He doesn’t care.

But it’s evening in Boston and... Well, of course, he’s at the Blizzards Arena. I quicken my pace, then enter into a jog, thankful I switched my California shoes for proper East Coast ones. Snow glitters from the sidewalk, shiny and sparkling under the streetlamps, and the moon glows above, surrounded by shimmering stars, fainter underneath the city haze but still visible.