Wreck the Halls

by Tessa Bailey

“You’re not a lemon, by the way. Not even close.” He squinted, but not enough to fully hide the twinkle. “More of a peach.” She swallowed the dreamy sigh that tried to escape. “Maybe so. Peaches do have pretty thin skin.” “Yeah, but they have a tough center.”

She just didn’t know enough about her mother to give anyone what they wanted. That was the sad truth. Trina love-bombed her daughter once a year and once a year only. Like a one-night sold-out show at the Garden that left her with a hangover and really expensive merch she never wore again.

Why did it always feel so good to leave somewhere? Guilt poked holes in her gut. Didn’t she want to have friends? Who didn’t? And why did she feel alone whether she was with people or not?

I’m done talking. You won’t get another word out of me. Not until you—and all the similar outlets—stop exploiting girls for clicks. Especially my friend Melody Gallard. You praise me for nothing and disparage her no matter how hard she tries. You can fuck right off. Like I said, I’m done talking.

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

“I’ve sort of made young adult literature my specialty.” “Why?” She shrugged. “I lived inside of those books growing up. I want to take care of them, the way they took care of me.”

“Come on. I’m forcing myself to do twenty box jumps before I quit for the day.” “Sounds hellish.” “That’s because it is.” “Why do you do it?” His thumb brushed over the tiny veins in her wrist. “A little torture can be fun.”

There would be repercussions if he outed the third player in the love triangle. Also known as the one who broke up the band. His blackmailer—and biological father.

“What about you, Mel? What’s your vice?” “Refusing to call my super to fix anything in my apartment because I want to be his favorite. I think that’s a cross between sloth and greed.” He shook his head. “It’s neither. It’s . . . Melody.” “I’m not a vice.” “You could be.” Had his voice gotten deeper? “Easily.”

“Oh, you might as well call me Octavia, dear.” She crossed her arms delicately. “It’s only fair since my son is trying his best to stuff you into his pocket.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.” Was this what it was like to be 100 percent willing to die for someone? Out of the corner of his eye, Beat could see the camera’s blinking red light and, honestly, it just didn’t mean a goddamn thing in that moment. “You’re my best friend, too, Peach.” “Best enough to sing with me?” Was he supposed to be breathing right now? “Best enough for anything.”

How could a single negative thing exist on this earth at the same time as his mouth?

The only thing present between them was feverish want and deep recognition of two souls that had been separated too long. Maybe not good for each other, but created as a pair for better or worse.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see you in these jeans again without feeling like I’m dying. Or living for the first time.

“Were you made for me? Is that what this is?”

“Do you think I can just turn this off? Carve you out of my chest? I can’t.”

“Maybe we just needed to get it out of our systems?” He huffed a sound. “You’ll never leave my system, Mel. You’re one-half of it.”

“It’s not possible to get you out of mine, either. But maybe if we pretend long enough, we’ll start to believe it.”

“What do you want from me, Mom? You want me to admit I have feelings for Melody?” “At this stage, it’s merely a formality. But yes.”

“I have every single feeling for her.”

“I came here thinking you were going to read me the riot act over Melody’s claim that Trina wanted the reunion. Instead, you’re starting a Melody fan club.” She raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you be a member?” He looked down at the paperwork without really seeing it. “I’d be the president.”

“Love doesn’t come and go that easily, Beat. You need to believe you can lean on it, even when you have to lean really hard.” Melody swallowed the lump in her throat. “I think maybe the people who love us want to be tested and leaned on sometimes, so they can show us how much we mean. Expressing love and trust is a gift to the person who receives it.”

“Forever, Mel? Are you going to give me forever?” She looked into the eyes that could see clear through to her soul. “I’d give us ten forevers if I could.”