Page 1 of Kissing Nick

Chapter One

Holly

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” I call out as I let myself into my brother’s apartment. It’s seven in the morning and I’m not surprised he’s not up yet. My older brother is good at a lot of things, but getting up early isn’t one of them.

I stand just inside his apartment, rubbing my hands together to warm up from the winter cold. Several seconds pass and there’s still no response from him.

“Oliver?” I call out. God, I hope he’s not in some kind of deep sleep from staying out late last night or something. If he’s useless today, I’m going to kill him.

I take off my boots and walk through his apartment, heading toward his bedroom. The door is open and I can see a lump in his bed. Pausing in the bedroom doorway, I tap my knuckles on his open door and say, “Rise and shine, Ollie.”

My brother groans and turns over in bed. As he rolls onto his other side to face me, my heart drops. His nose is red and his face is sickly pale.

“I have the flu,” Oliver mumbles, squinting at me through watery eyes.

“Oh, shit,” I say. “Can I get you anything?”

He sneezes. “Just some…tissues…please…”

I turn on my heels and head into his bathroom, locate a box of tissues, and bring them back to Oliver. He looks even worse up close and I back away as soon as I deliver the box of tissues.

I really can’t get sick this weekend. It’s the weekend of our city’s annual Christmas market and I have a booth reserved to sell my pottery. I’ve been preparing for this weekend for months, and if this weekend is a flop, I won’t be able to afford to keep pursuing my dream.

I head into the kitchen to make Oliver some tea and mull over my options now that he’s sick. He was supposed to come along with me to the market this weekend and help out.

I’ve always been into the arts, but it wasn’t until about a year ago that I decided to really pursue my passion and try to make a living doing something I love. I started making little pieces of pottery and selling them online.

Oliver helped me out with the parts I wasn’t as good at, like making the website and figuring out marketing and that kind of stuff. He’s always looked after me like that. Partially, I think it’s just in his nature, but it’s also because of our age difference. My brother is twelve years older than me—I’m twenty and he’s thirty-two.

Anyway. My online shop has done decently well, but it’s not crazy successful or anything. Oliver is convinced it’s just a matter of brand awareness.

“You’ve gotten tons of amazing feedback from the people who have purchased something from you, Hol,” he once said. “That’s proof that you have a good product. You just need to get more exposure for your business.”

And that’s why I’m participating in the Christmas market this year.

It wasn’t exactly cheap to reserve a booth, though, and I also had to put a lot of money and time into building up enough inventory for this weekend. My savings account is basically drained. So if this weekend isn’t a success…well, I’m screwed.

The water for Oliver’s tea has come to a boil. I pour it into a cup and throw in a peppermint tea bag. As I carry it into Oliver’s bedroom, the pepperminty steam fills my nose, a wintery smell that normally has such a calming effect on me.

Right now, though, it’s not enough to soothe the panic I’m feeling about what I’m going to do. It’s not like it’simpossiblefor me to handle my booth alone, but the very thought of it feels overwhelming. There’s so much setup to do. And running the booth on my own is going to be exhausting. Will I even be able to take meal and bathroom breaks?

“Thanks, Hol,” Oliver says as I set the cup of tea onto his bedside table. He gives me a tired smile. “So sorry I can’t go with you today.”

“I’ll manage on my own,” I say. I don’t want him to feel guilty on top of being sick.

“No,” croaks Oliver. “You should really find someone to help you.”

“Any suggestions?”

Oliver shrugs. “You have friends.”

I mentally cycle through my friends. But the few friends I would feel comfortable asking are already busy this weekend.

“Yeah…I don’t think there’s anyone I can ask.”

“Oh.” Oliver sneezes, grabs a tissue, and wipes his nose. “Wait, I know. You should call up Nick.”

His best friend Nick? Yeah, right. There’s no way that guy would want to give up his weekend to help me out. He’s acted like I’m invisible for as long as I’ve known him.