All Madison wants for Christmas is the same person who once wanted her. Free from the shackles of her broken heart, she's finally ready to give love another shot. But is Madi too late to win back the man of her dreams?
SEQUEL to The Heartbreak Hypot...
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I might not hate men anymore, but that doesn't mean that they make any sense to me.
In fact, oftentimes, I truly think that they're moronic. And if men are morons, then maybe Derek van der Yates is their king.
Because inviting Holly on our road trip was utterly moronic.
Noah and James gave me a speedy, confusing run-down of our friend's bombshell as we weaved our way through the crowded airport parking lot. Holly was returning from studying abroad on the same day that the rest of us were leaving campus for Christmas break. Her family lived partway between my house and the ski resort, so Dex had both kindly and moronically offered to give her a lift home.
Because, apparently, he was taking on Saint Nick for the right to represent Christmas spirit.
How exactly he managed to actually invite Holly, however, was beyond my understanding. I wasn't even aware that they were back in contact in the first place. After all, this was the same Holly who led him on for weeks in order to get closer to his best friend.
A best friend who she wrongly believed that I'd once dated.
A best friend who'd rejected her very obvious advances in front of a nightclub full of people.
And who'd then come home with me.
To say that the five of us left things on bad terms was a vast understatement. I couldn't even see us going to lunch together let alone driving across the state in one car. I had to roll down the window and take a deep breath of the fresh, cheek-numbing air just to process the blood-curdling thought.
That time, Dex didn't argue.
James' car crawled slowly to the front of the pick-up zone, the latter overflowing with zealous friends and happy families reuniting for the holidays. They were all celebrating and basking in the atmosphere of the season—just as everyone should be doing at Christmas time. Just as I'd been doing minutes prior, too. But, suddenly, my stomach was tangled into too many knots to count.
But those knots somehow managed to duplicate when I caught sight of the last person on earth I'd expected to see when I woke up on that brisk December day.
She was leaning oh-so-coolly against the brick wall next to the sliding doors, one plastic knee-high boot crossed over the other as though she was some up-and-coming model posing for Vogue. Dark ringlets poked out from underneath her denim newsboy cap, the latter matching the chic jacket she'd tied around her waist to accentuate the curves on either side. I didn't know where on earth she was getting back from, but her daisy-dotted summer dress and sparkling tan suggested that it was somewhere far more tropical than windy old Camden town. Somewhere far more trendy, too.
I, on the other hand, had thrown on a pair of black leggings and a varsity crop hoodie. Because apparently I was taking 'one of the boys' to a whole new level of 'not even trying'.
