"You are such a prude." She handed me my plate.

"I'm not a prude. I just have standards, and belching the alphabet forward and backwards in less than a minute is not one of them. That's if they even know their ABCs." I began eating.

"You are such a bitch, London," she joked as she sat down to eat too.

"Sticks and stones Lola, sticks and stones. I've never done the walk of shame. Can you say the same?" I eyed her suspiciously.

"We're talking about you here, don't drag me into it. I can see it now. You're going to be that weird old neighborhood lady who hoards birds, just watch." She said between bites.

"Hoarding birds? I always figured I'd be the old ferret lady who stinks like pee."

"Nice, keeping your options open. Good thinking. Look, go let someone knock the dust out of there for you. It's got to suck always cleaning your own house." She snickered.

Lola 1, London 0 "There's something wrong with your brain." I shook my head and smiled at her.

In all honesty, sometimes I felt as if I'd always be too busy for a relationship. I've always had a reason not to get into one. I was in middle school when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, so I spent most of my free time with her, either at chemo or at home. Trent didn't spend as much time at home as I did. I think it was harder on him and my dad because they felt helpless. Like, they were men, they should have been able to protect her from all the bad shit that was happening, and they couldn't. So keeping busy was an essential defense mechanism. My dad was around a lot more than Trent, but even so he spent a lot of time in the barn and stuff. He never missed a single doctor's appointment or radiation therapy session though. The chemo he didn't handle so well, because it was in a dialysis clinic, which reminded him too much of my grandma Skye who'd passed a few years earlier from kidney failure.

Then in high school I was too busy remaking friends to worry about a boyfriend. I had one or two here and there, but nothing too serious. Trent says it's because I have impossible standardsthat's why he's called me Princess most of my life. I beg to differ. I think he just has incredibly low standards.

But then in our junior year Mom came out of remission, and it started all over. I missed my junior and senior promsaccording to Trent I didn't miss much, but I never believed him. My mom always begged me to go out, even if it meant tagging along with Trent and his buddies. I didn't want to go, though. I didn't know how much longer I'd have her around, so I wanted to be with her every minute I could.

By the time remission rolled around for the second time, it was the summer of my freshman year in college. I knew I'd have to bust my butt, so once again . . . no time. The more I thought about it, the more they sounded like excuses instead of reasons. Either way, I'd just never had a long-term relationship.

I was fine with that.

Most of the time, anyway.

Chapter 2.

I woke up at seven-thirty, and was showered, makeup on, hair straightened and ready by eight forty-five. Ha! Take that, Trent. I finished packing up the last of my essentials and headed to the living room to wait on him.

I called out to Lola but she didn't answer. When I knocked on her bedroom door, she grumbled very loudly to come in.

"Hey, I'm leaving," I informed her.

"Okay, bye. Be safe. Go get laid or something." She rolled over and punched her pillow to her liking.

"You're so stupid." I laughed at her response. "You sure you don't want to come along? Who knows, maybe you and the dreamboat will hit it off," I snickered. She hauled a smaller pillow at me and said something unintelligible. I laughed again and picked the pillow up, and tossed it back on her bed.

She turned over onto her side and faced me. "No, thanks. I'm going to my dad's. He convinced me."

"You mean he bribed you . . ." I grinned.

"Bribed, convinced. Same thing. Don't judge me." She closed her eyes and yawned.

I heard the horn honk. "He's early."

"Good. Go. Goodbye. Have a great Christmas or whatever it is you Eskimos do up there in Northern Minnesota." She smirked and pulled the covers over her head.

"Bye, Lola. Merry Christmas." I went over and hugged her, and she hugged me back through the blanket.

"Text me when you get your phone fixed so I can harass you with pictures of my ugly-ass step-dog. Fucking Maltipoo-poo." She faded out as I walked away laughing. She was a trip. At that moment, I regretted not inviting her sooner. There's no way Trent's houseguest would be more of a good time than Lola. We always had laughs.

Trent was knocking as I opened the front door.

"Ready?" he asked hurriedly. "Storm's moving faster than expected. We can not get stuck in this shit." He took the two bags from my hands and headed back to his truck.

After I locked up I stood for a moment trying to see if I knew who was in the front seat. I knew most of Trent's buddies, especially the hockey players, because I went to a lot of his games. But all I could make out was a red hat, because of the glare on the windows.

"You two have enough shit in there? This is why I had to pack light?" I called out to him when I walked to the truck and saw the back part crammed with crap.

"Just get in, London." He slammed the back door down and walked around to the driver's side.

"And why is he in the front seat? You know I get car sick," I said as I approached the passenger side. I knocked on the window and he rolled it down.

"Lon-donnnnn." Red hat guy catcalled my name, followed by a whistle. "Look at you."

Aw, crap . . . not him. Anyone but him . . .

"Hi, Pratt. I get car sick, get in the back." I tried to yank the door open.

"No can do." He slapped his hand on the lock before I could get it open, then followed it with a wink.

"Oh my God. Trent!" I shouted through the open window. "Are you serious with this shit? Of all people, you bring this guy home for Christmas? There wasn't a criminal or a hitchhiker available instead?"

Pratt just sat there with a playful smug grin on his face, and turned his hat backwards.

"London," Trent said. "Get in. You stopped getting car sick when you were eight." He put the truck in drive and waited.

"Twelve, you asshole. You're my brother, you're supposed to be on my side," I said as I opened the back door.

"Trust me, I am on your side. We had Taco Bell for breakfast," Trent informed me, and let out a belch. "Oh, man. Excuse me. That one slipped out." He banged on his chest lightly.

"You are so gross," I scoffed.

"Because Princess London doesn't do bodily functions, I forgot," Trent teased me, then both he and Pratt laughed.

"I hate you. I hope I throw up on you." I went to go sit in the back in the seat, but Pratt stepped out of the passenger side.

"You have such a sunny disposition, London." He gave me a wink, and I rolled my eyes, but I felt a bit guilty for being bitchy.

"Thanks for the front seat, Eighty-Six," I said.

Pratt Montgomery. Number eight-six. My brother's right-hand manwell, his right wing man on the team. He's what they call a 'power forward'. He has both the physical size and the offensive skills to pretty much do it allthe 'complete' hockey player package. He's been tugging on my ponytails since our freshman year of college, talking a lot of harmless flattering and sometimes annoying smack, but he's never been disrespectful or taken it too far. If he had, my brother would've taken his kneecaps out with a hockey stick.

I woke to Pratt's big-ass head in my faceI must have dozed off at some point. He was stretched out between the seats, nearly hovering over me.

"Wakey, wakey. We're almost home."

I turned my head. "Your breath smells like a donkey's ass."

"You know what donkey's ass smells like why, again?" He sat back in his seat.

"And it's our home, not yours," I snapped. "Don't you have your own family to torture during the holidays?"

"London. Christ, be nice." My brother gave me a wide-eyed look in the rearview mirror, and then turned into our driveway. We lived about a quarter mile off the road.

"Nah, it's cool bro. I can handle a little London attitude." Pratt said, but not in his normal fun, challenging tone. It seemed like a forced statement.

Whoops, I must have struck a nerve. Never took him for a sensitive one. I guess I'll try and be less excessive in the bitch department. Besides, his breath was nowhere near a donkey's ass. It was actually very minty.

As we approached the house I could see my mom in the kitchen through the window. I couldn't wait to hug her. When we stopped in the driveway my chocolate lab, Tuna, hopped up at the storm door, pushed down on the handle to open it, and came running out of the house. I could officially begin my last Christmas vacation from school. I couldn't wait to hug my parents and have Tuna jump up and knock me over. Labs were known for their clumsy tails, but Tuna's would wag uncontrollably at his first sight of me, and Mom's plants were collateral damage. You'd think she'd just move the damn things.

I hopped out of the truck when we came to a stop, and right on cue Tuna jumped up, knocking me off balance. I slammed into Pratt, who'd just gotten out too, and he caught me. Jesus, he barely moved when I fell into him. I quickly straightened myself out and gave him a light shove away.

"I got it, thanks," I said as I bent down to pet Tuna.

"Any time, gorgeous. Especially if you keep bending over like that," Pratt teased as he walked around to the back of the truck.

I couldn't help but smile, without him seeing of course. It's always nice when someone pays you a compliment. By that time I for sure felt terrible about behaving like a jerk. He didn't really deserve the over-exaggeration about his breath, either. But judging by his comment, it seemed like he'd gotten over itif he'd even been bothered in the first place. I laughed to myself.

My mom came out of the house, cursing at Tuna over the path of destruction he'd left.

"Tuna, I'm going to put a damn cone around your tail until you learn how to stop taking out everything in your way. Like a brown drooling tornado, I tell you." She gave me a hug, then pulled back to look at me. "Hey sweetie. How was the ride?"

"The ride sucked." I always laid it on thick with my mom. But now I studied her for a moment to see how she was doing. She looked great. She had color in her cheeks and they were a little bit fuller since the last time I saw her. Which was good, because that meant she still had a good appetite and was gaining weight. All great signs everything was going well health-wise.

"Oh, I'm sure you're fine. You stopped getting car sick when you were eight. And stop trying to analyze me London. I'm feeling fine." She rubbed my arm then began to walk over to my brother and Pratt.

"Twelve, and what the what? You knew?" I gave a short laugh.

"Your brother told me," she admitted.

"Trent, you a-hole," I said to him as I followed Mom towards the back of the truck to get my bags.

"She sat in the front anyhow, Mrs. S. Don't let her make me out to be ungentlemanly like." Pratt had on his best smile. Ew. He has nice teeth. Dammit.

"Pratt, call me Linda, please," she said as she gave my brother a hug.

Pratt and I both reached for my bags.

"I got it, thanks." I swatted his hand away.

"No, please, your highness, allow me." There was that sneaky sarcastic grin. I had to hold back my own while I took a step back and motioned with my arm, allowing him to take them out.

He smiled a big cheesy smile as if he was proud of himself, and pulled my bags out for me.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"Get over here, Eighty-Six. How are you doing, sweetheart?" I heard my mom say as I walked towards the door with Tuna in tow.

"Sweetheart? Wow, Mom, you're really reaching there a bit aren't you?" I said as I reached the porch and headed inside.

"London, be nice," I heard her say from not too far behind me.

"Dad?" I called out. I didn't see his truck outside, but sometimes he left it out back with the plow on it before storms, so it was easier to get out.

"He isn't back from your aunt's yet," Mom said. "Ever since she slipped down the steps, he makes sure to pre-treat her driveway and front porch before a storm hits."

"Mom, do you want to take a ride with me to get a replacement phone before it starts to get too bad out there? I dropped mine in the lecture hall, and it got trampled." I pulled it from my pocket and shook it back and forth in my hand to show her.

"Sure, but we'll have to go right now."

"Okay. Just let me bring this stuff upstairs and use the bathroom." I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and ran up to my room with my bags.

When I got back downstairs Trent told me Mom was in the car waiting for me. As I approached the car, the only thing I could see was the red hat in the window.

"Mother effer," I shouted. As I got closer I could see his big-toothed, aggravating smile, and my mom was laughing too.

"Eighty-Six." I opened the door and whined while I tugged unsuccessfully on his jacket. The big fathead didn't even budge.

I let out a frustrated 'errrrrrggggggg' and slammed the door while my mom and Eighty-Six had a good laugh at my expense.

"Oh, London, be courteous. He wouldn't be very comfortable back there. It's not roomy like Trent's truck," she said in Pratt's defense.

"Oh my God, what is wrong with you people? You call yourself family? Bunch of traitors." I plopped in the back seat, and slammed my own door to make my point.

"Oh damn, I forgot my wallet. I'll be right back," Mom said, halfway out of the car already.

While she was gone, we sat in silence. I liked it that way. I was still aggravated at that massive melon-head in the front seat.

Next thing I saw was Tuna bolting out the front door and running straight for the woods. I jumped out to grab him before he got too far off looking for my brother or dad. When I bent over to pet him, I heard a whistle from behind me.

"Dear sweet Jesus on a Huffy, London. I like those jeans on you," Pratt said.

"Way to woo a woman, Eighty-Six," I responded.

"You know what else I like on you, London?" he asked with slightly puckered lips and a head nod.

"Really? Let me guess . . . 'You'. That's what else you like on me," I scoffed.

"Woooahhh, slow down tiger, I'm not that kind of guy. I was going to say I like all that sass you got on you, but hey, if you wanna go there, I'll give it a try. Just be gentle." He gave me a doe-eyed stare and batted his eyelashes.