Heartbreak Express

"Alexa," I mumbled around a toothbrush, "play Christmas playlist for when you're in love but haven't said it yet."

There was a pause a beat of betrayal then "Playing: Christmas Songs for the Emotionally Repressed, With a Crush. Curated for you."

I froze, toothbrush halfway to my molars.

"Curated for me?"

I stared at the mirror. "Okay, rude."

Because no, I hadn't made that playlist. I wasn't that obvious. But apparently Spotify or the universe had decided I was a walking, talking softie now. A danger to myself and Christmas music algorithms everywhere.

I spat, rinsed, and as soon as Mariah started her slow intro, I grabbed a towel and padded to the kitchen. Still in fuzzy socks, hair up in a messy bun, cheeks pink from hot water and warm feelings I refused to name.

I made pancakes, not the plain kind. Fluffy ones. The kind that took actual effort, the kind that said I am a woman with soft domestic dreams and a Spotify Premium account.

As I poured the maple syrup onto my plate, I absentmindedly traced an S.

S.

And then promptly tried to scribble it out with the back of my fork. My brain was a traitor or my hand was, either way...rude.

I was halfway through flipping the last pancake when the speaker on my counter suddenly chirped to life. "New message from Sebastian Rhys Ashford teddy bear emoji, red heart."

The maple syrup bottle slipped clean out of my hand "Oh my god, no," I groaned, catching it mid-tumble, but not before syrup hit the stove.

I stared at the sticky trail. "You did not have to remind me I put emojis on his contact."

My phone buzzed on the living room table, and I jogged over in socked feet, slipping slightly as I reached it the message glowed back at me, too casual for what it did to my heart.

Sebastian Rhys Ashford ❤

Merry Christmas, Bella. Spend it with me?
We can drop by Robert, or go anywhere you like.
P.S. I didn't bring the Hellcat. Turns out I'm jealous.
So I brought something else, be there in an hour. Or fifteen minutes.❤

"WHAT?" I shrieked, syrup bottle slipping right off the counter and hitting the floor with a cartoon thud.

Me

Merry Christmas, Sebastian. I'll be waiting :)

OH MY GOD! My eyes bugged, my soul left my body and hovered near the ceiling fan. What had I done? "One hour or fifteen minutes?? That's, those are not the same thing, Sebastian!" I hissed at the phone, now tucked precariously in the waistband of my pyjama pants while I sprinted to the bedroom like I was escaping a crime scene.

"Okay okay okay," I muttered, yanking open the closet. "It's fine, it's Christmas. I have options I am a composed adult woman."

Cue avalanche of hangers.

I tripped over a boot, stubbed my toe on a rogue dumbbell I swore I was going to use someday. "Fifteen minutes?? That man just dropped a heart emoji and gave me a time range like it was a FedEx delivery window?!"

I flung open my dresser. "Do I go cute cozy? Like, 'oh look I'm effortlessly festive'? Or do I go red cashmere seduction? Or like...a girl-next-door who bakes pie and looks incredible in ankle boots?!"

I was spiralling, full chaos, somewhere between putting on mascara and trying to find my other earring, I definitely burned a second pancake and I was still barefoot but that was okay, because in ten minutes or an hour I was seeing him.