I pay for the pizza, thank the delivery guy and head back into the family room where Lauren hasn’t moved off the couch. We’ve watched two Hallmark Christmas movies. Parts of it are cheesy as hell and other parts make you question why you would wait so damn long to tell the person you love that you can’t live without them.

“What’d you get?” Lauren asks, lifting the box.

“Gino’s thin—it’s the best ever.” I head to the kitchen and grab some sodas and napkins. Lauren’s going to learn how I do things and we’re eating right out of the pizza box.

“I’ve never had it.”

I stop outside the kitchen, grabbing my sweatshirt out of my bag. “You’re joking.” I sit down and position our stuff. Bringing the table closer to us.

“You seem like a pro at this whole vegging all day,” she says.

“Honestly.” I hand her a piece of pizza and crack open our sodas. “I haven’t had a place to veg in so long, I’m loving this—even if I have to watch romantic movies where miracles happen and Santa is real.”

She kicks me with her foot and sits up. “Santa is real.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.

“Sure. Hope you get that Barbie house you asked for under the tree.” I tap her nose and reach for my own piece of pizza.

“I’m well past toys nowadays.” She bites into the pizza and a slow moan falls from her lips. “Man.” She inspects the pizza. “I never would’ve guessed.”

I take a bite of my own pepperoni goodness. “Told you. The best.”

We each devour our pizza and drink our sodas while the television is on pause.

“Ready to start?” I ask and she nods.

We watch on as singing carolers ring the doorbell of an inn. Snow falls outside and the fireplace roars inside, decorated with stockings hung for every guest at the bed and breakfast. I can practically smell the gingerbread. Hallmark sure knows how to make you fall in love with the holidays.

“Don’t you think it’s a little cheesy to propose on Christmas?” I ask when it becomes clear where this storyline is going.

“No,” Lauren scoffs, attention still fixed on the TV.

“Valentine’s Day?”

She shrugs. “Maybe, but all that really matters is that the couple is happy. I don’t think you need a grand proposal. Like why make a huge spectacle?”

Mauro did it low key, just him and Maddie, but I always imagined myself pulling out all the stops.

“I’m sure to you bigger means better, but who are you doing it for? For your hopeful fiancée? If she wants to marry you, she shouldn’t care how many people are witness.”

She pauses the movie as I go for one more slice of pizza. Even cooled down, Gino’s is still a piece of heaven on earth.

“I don't think that’s true. I think to some people, the size of the proposal says how much they love that person. It’s great that you don’t need that, but some do.”

She shrugs. “I guess everyone is different. I’m sure you’ll ask your girlfriend with a plane in the sky or on a jumbotron at some sporting event.”

“What’s that mean?”

She shrugs again. “That you’re a ‘go big or go home’ kind of guy.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I set the half-eaten piece of pizza down in the box.

“No. It’s just you.”

“Then why do I feel like you just insulted me?”

She laughs, tossing her crust into the pizza box.

I pick it up. “What’s this? Are you five?”

“I don’t eat the crust.”

I bite into it and she laughs.

“I kind of thought you’d want a big scene,” I say when I’m done swallowing.

“Nope.” She wipes her mouth.

“Are you embarrassed in front of crowds?” I ask the question that’s been bugging me since her Christmas party.

“Not really. Why?”

“The Christmas party…”

Her face turns as red as Snow White’s apple, and she draws her legs up to her chest.

“No hiding.” I toss her crust into the box and pull her arms loose from around her legs. “What am I missing?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just get back to the movie.” She presses play on the television.

I grab the remote and press pause again. “Come on. You should tell your fiancé everything.”

She looks up at me through her eyelashes and shakes her head. “Fact, you’re not my fiancé.”

“Minor detail.”

After a minute of silence and my gaze boring into her, she finally appears to be ready to talk.

“It’s just…” She starts, then stops. “I…competitive women aren’t exactly attractive to an employer or a man.”

I have to snap my jaw shut. She’s shittin’ me, right?

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“See!” She points at me. “I don’t want to have this conversation. It’s like admitting some fear to your enemy so they can use it against you down the road.”

I slide closer to her on the couch and wrap my arm around her shoulders. Her body is stiff in my arms.

“Lauren, relax.”

“I’m so stupid, how did we get on this topic?”

I move her so her legs are draped over mine and run my hands along them over the blanket, trying to ignore how nice this feels.

“First off, I’m not your enemy and second, I’ll never use anything against you. We’ve come a long way since this whole thing began. And if it helps, I’ll tell you something about me.”

“What? That you haven’t actually fucked all the Lovables?”

I laugh, but it comes out a bit caustic. “What? You don’t really think I’ve screwed my way through the Bulls cheerleaders, do you?”

She shrugs, and I have to work to tamp down the anger that’s brewing inside over the fact that she believes I’d really do that.

“Come on. You obviously need to talk about it. Trust me.”

She stares at me for so long, I start to doubt if I can be trusted.

With a resigned sigh and a look down at her hands in her lap, she starts to speak. “You heard how everyone was talking about how competitive I was at the picnic. I didn’t want to do the talent show because I can’t control that part of me. I want to win. Always.”

“And good for you.” I squeeze her thigh.

“You don’t get it. You’re a guy.”

“So?” I shrug.

“Guys can be competitive assholes and women will want to screw you and men will want to be you. Especially if you’re a winner, but women? What kind of guy wants to have a girlfriend who won’t let him win?”

“No man should want his girlfriend to let him win. He should be letting her win.”

She rolls her eyes. “You say that. But take us for example. Could you imagine if we were a couple? You’d grow tired of me.” I furrow my brow. “Maybe not you, but men don’t like to lose, Luca. You said it yourself when I was in high school, I act like a guy. Name one heterosexual man who wants to screw a woman who beats him at everything.”

“Whoa, let’s back up a sec. If you met a real man, he won’t expect you to give anything other than maximum effort. A guy like Peter? That’s not the guy for you. You’d eat him alive.”

“And he’s the one guy to show me any interest lately.”

“Bullshit.”

Her eyes flare and she knocks her head back like I’ve slapped her.

“You had that date. I saw you on the porch.”

“That one you honked the horn on.” The corners of her lips tip down a bit.

“I told you, my hand slipped.”

She sinks into the cushions of the couch. “So, that’s my big fear. I didn’t want to compete in the talent show because people like to make fun of me for my competitive nature.”

I rub my hand down her leg again. It hurts to see her this down on herself. Especially when it’s a part of her that I admire the most.

“Lauren, your competitive nature is sexy as hell and you shouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t see it that way. Your lucky guy should be your biggest competitor and your biggest cheerleader. Don’t settle for less.”

A small smile graces her lips and though I’d rather convince her of how desirable she is by placing my lips to hers, I hope she can feel the conviction of my words.

“Your turn.” She nudges her knee into my chest.

I run my fingers through my hair and pull at my neck. Never in my life did I think I’d share this with anyone, but Lauren’s secret wasn’t something she wanted to share with me and in the interest of being fair I should do the same.

“Come on. Are you scared of spiders?” She laughs.

“I’m afraid I’ll be a shitty boyfriend.” The words spill from my mouth before I can talk myself out of it.

Her laugh comes to an abrupt stop and her eyes widen, telling me I should’ve gone with the spider thing.

“Oh.” Her shoulders fall.

“I mean, what if I get into a serious relationship and things go south. I’m not exactly the type of guy who talks about his feelings. I’m not like my brothers that way…at all.”

Insecurity eats away at me and I look away from her, regretting saying anything.

Her hand touches my shoulder and I close my eyes briefly, enjoying the sensation. “I think everyone feels that way.”

I shake my head. “What if I disappoint her? Or I only selfishly think of myself? Or can’t live up to her expectations?”

She smiles at me.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re blind.” She shakes her head like I just don’t get it.

I don’t say anything but screw my face up in a ‘what the hell are you talking about’ expression.

She laughs. “Look at you with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re sitting here watching Hallmark Christmas movies with me and talking about our fears of being in a relationship.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Luca.” She leans forward and forces my chin in her direction so I’m looking at her. “You know how I know you’ll be a good boyfriend? And believe me, I’m as surprised as you that I’m going to say this to you.”

I chuckle. She seems to realize that her hand is still on my chin and she lets it fall. I miss the feel of her skin on mine, even if it is as innocent as her fingers on my chin.

“I know because you care. You care enough to want to be a good boyfriend and you care enough to even think about it in the first place.”

I give her a small smile, still not entirely convinced.

“And like I said before, you’ve sat here for hours watching Hallmark movies with me. That goes a long way toward scoring good boyfriend points.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“Because it’s me?” she asks.

“Yeah. I’ve known you a long time and—you better never repeat this—I enjoy things when you’re around.”

I think my words affect her based on the way her breath seems to come out shaky before she speaks.

“And you will when it comes to your real girlfriend, too. You should change your type though.” She knees me in the chest and then swings her legs to the side and stands.

I miss the feel of her immediately.

“What does that mean?”

I stand and follow her into the kitchen.

“You tend to go for women who don’t challenge you, you know?”

“No, I don’t.”

She opens the fridge, grabs a water and takes a sip out of it. Her head is tipped back giving me a glimpse of her long neck and I check the impulse that has me wanting to run my tongue along the skin there.

“You do.” She walks past me, back into the family room and flicks on a light since the sun has already started to descend in the sky. I hate how early it gets dark this time of year.

“I do not.”

“Oh, Luca.” She saunters over to me, her finger running down my chest as she leans her cheek against my chest. “You’re so hot and you’re a paramedic, too. Do you know mouth-to-mouth? I think I might need to be resuscitated.” Her voice is all sultry and sweet like syrup pouring out of a bottle.

Damn her, I’ve heard those lines more than once.

“That doesn’t mean I’m purposely picking them. Maybe that’s the kind of woman who’s attracted to me.”

She gives me a blank stare, walks away and sits down on the couch, grabbing the remote. “Yeah, that’s it.”

I’m rankled at her impression of me, no matter how much I might deserve it.

“Okay, if you’re so right, let’s take you as an example. How come you picked Cody over me?”

The mood shifts in the room and the air suddenly feels dense and electric. Her eyes narrow at me and turn cold. “We’re gonna go there?”

“I think it’s about time we did.” I sit down but not as close to her as I was moments ago.

“Cody asked me out,” she says like that’s all there was to it.

“That’s bullshit.”

Her phone dings on the table, but she ignores it. Looks like she wants to have this conversation as much as I do. I feel like we’ve been building up for it more than a decade.

“Blaire seemed like a suitable replacement for me. I mean she is your type after all.”

My fists clench in irritation.

“Come on. At least be truthful. You’re preaching about how I pick the wrong type of girls, but you had your chance and chose my best friend.”

She sits up straighter on the couch. “I was fifteen, Luca.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” I pin her with a stare, not willing to let it go until I get an answer from her.

She stares me dead in the eye not backing down an inch. “You would’ve hurt me. Dating you would have been like signing up to get my heart broken.”

Just like that she pierces me in the heart with a jagged arrow because she’s right. She chose my best friend over me because I would have hurt her, as ashamed as I am to admit that fact.

Before I can respond, her phone rings and she grabs it, putting her finger to her lips for me to be silent.

“Hey, Ashton.” She pauses for a second to listen to whatever her brother has to say and a panicked looked washes across her face, her eyes widen. “What? It is? Well…yeah…it was fast. She did? When?…Oh crap. Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

She hangs up on the call, but her thumbs move a mile a minute over the phone while she ignores my questions about what the problem is.

Eventually, she shoves the small screen in my face. I steal the phone away from her, standing and pacing when I make sense of what she’s showing me. My Zia put a post on Instagram with a picture of Lauren and I congratulating us on our engagement by tagging each of us in the photo.

With St. George’s high school having been like a small town where gossip ran rampant, I know before I even ask.

“Guess where we’re going tonight? Time for you to meet your in-laws.” She smacks me on the back, takes the phone and heads upstairs. A minute later her door slams and I hear her argue with her mom.

Fuck. This engagement is like a snowball rolling down a hill and now that it has momentum, we can’t seem to stop it.