Merry Little Hate Notes

Prologue

14 YEARS AGO

HOLLY

“OH. MY. GOSH. HOLLY. I can’t believe Brandon Cassidy came to your birthday party,” my best friend, Carmen, squealed in my ear.

“Shh,” I begged her, staring at Brandon and my brother, Christian, talking near the pool table in our walkout basement. They were both too cool to make the lanterns my friends and I were decorating to celebrate the Winter Solstice, which coincided with my sixteenth birthday and the first full day of Christmas break. It made the day feel extra special, even if Brandon and Christian had made fun of me earlier for my solstice-themed party. I was used to it. It was just a way of life since we’d moved next door to the Cassidys and Brandon and Christian became best friends.

Until this past summer, that was. Something seemed to have changed between Brandon and me. It all started when Christian ditched us for a girl he met on our joint family vacation while our parents were attending a conference. Brandon and I ended up spending a lot of time together. And, I don’t know—he acted flirty. And we seemed to accidentally—or maybe on purpose—touch a lot. Ugh. I couldn’t tell. But I thought about it, about him, all the time. We’re talking day and night. Don’t even get me going about how much of my diary was devoted to him.

I was probably just being stupid. Brandon was the most popular boy in school, and I used to play court with my stuffed animals and made Brandon and Christian testify on behalf of my clients, like Ricky the Raccoon. Sadly, the jury—my parents—convicted Ricky of the crimes in question. But I learned from my mistakes. My next client, Gary the Giraffe, was acquitted of all charges. I planned on being the first female Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. The best lawyer, just like my mom.

I snuck a glance at Brandon as he brushed his swooped bangs back, looking like an H&M model in a denim shirt with a loose tie. He was such a Zac Efron. My stomach swooped more than his bangs.

Brandon caught me staring and smirked. He gave me an almost-imperceptible nod toward the storage closet. I knew what that meant—a little hate note. It was a game we’d been playing since the day we met, when I knew Brandon would steal my first best friend—my brother. And he had. So I wrote on a sticky note, You’re gross like raisin bran , and hid it in his backpack. He retaliated with a note on one of my dolls that said, You are queen of the cooties and a lint licker. We’d played our secret game for the past eight years. Christian didn’t even know about it.

Although I knew it would be something rude, I wanted to run over and see what Brandon had written to me. But it would have to wait. Part of the game was not to let anyone catch us playing it and to be as cleverly mean as possible. They were unspoken rules, just like the unspoken feelings in my heart for the boy who drove me crazy. He wasn’t really a boy anymore—he’d turned eighteen a couple of months ago. Next year he and Christian would be off to college. Thinking about life without them here was weird and ... oddly depressing. I was going to miss them both more than they would ever know.

My parents strolled down the stairs carrying trays of food for my friends. They’d prepared my favorites for this time of year, including frozen peppermint hot chocolate and popcorn drizzled with white chocolate and peppermint. Peppermint was kind of my signature flavor.

I admired my parents. My mom, Gloria, was so beautiful and elegant with long ebony hair like mine. I wanted to be just like her. Then there was my dad, looking like he’d just walked off the set of an Indiana Jones movie, rocking his graying man bun and canvas shirt. Oddly enough, my dad’s name is Harrison, just like the guy who played Indiana Jones, except everyone just calls him Dr. Harry. Dad is a famous anthropologist. He’d just returned from a dig site in Greece.

In Dad fashion, he recited a Winter Solstice blessing as soon as he set the tray of frozen hot chocolate down on the refreshment table. “The longest night has come once more, the sun has set, and darkness fallen. The trees are bare, the earth asleep, and the skies are cold and black. Yet tonight we rejoice, in this longest night, embracing the darkness that enfolds us. We welcome the night and all that it holds, as the light of the stars shines down.”

No one thought twice about it. They just smiled and went about their business. It was just Dad’s way. He’d come down earlier and placed a holly wreath on my head, telling my friends they’d named me Holly because it was a sacred name this time of year and I was sure to give people peace and refuge like my namesake. Not so sure about that. Maybe someday.

Most of my friends, including Carmen, ditched the lanterns we were making and headed for the treats.

“Can I get you anything?” Kyle Morgan took Carmen’s place by my side. It surprised me he’d wanted to come to my sweet sixteen party. I’d told him it would be mostly my girlfriends and me doing crafts and watching movies. I wasn’t as exciting as Christian and Brandon, who threw huge parties with loud music that everyone at school attended. They usually involved hot-tubbing and playing in our pool. But he said he really wanted to come, which was flattering. While Kyle was no Brandon, he was cute and sweet and more in my league. We shared the same AP history class, and he seemed to always find an excuse to talk to me. But he didn’t consume my thoughts the way Brandon did.

“Oh, thank you. I’m okay right now. I think I’m going to finish my lantern.”

“I’ll stay and help you,” Kyle offered.

I bit my lip. “Okay.”

No sooner had I replied than Christian and Brandon appeared. “What’s up, Kyle?” Christian sidled up to Kyle’s other side. He thought he was such a James Dean. Sure, he might have resembled the actor some. But Christian wasn’t the demigod he thought he was. It didn’t help that all my friends and most of the girls at school were in love with him. It only fueled his ego.

I rolled my eyes at my big brother. I blamed him for the fact I had hardly been on any dates and hadn’t been kissed yet. He was way too overprotective.

Brandon made it worse by wedging himself between Kyle and me. The warmth of his body against mine made my heart race wildly out of control. I almost went into cardiac arrest when his fingers brushed mine, and for the briefest second, they danced together like they wanted to intertwine. It was so fast I wasn’t sure it had happened. I wanted to ask if anyone else had seen it, but everyone, with the exception of my parents and Carmen, would probably laugh in my face for thinking Brandon had almost held my hand. I could hardly believe it myself.

“Why don’t you come upstairs with us?” Brandon suggested to Kyle.

“Yeah,” Christian added. “You game for some golf?”

Brandon and Christian were idiots—always sneaking onto the golf course behind our houses in the dark of night. A few times they’d even gone joyriding in the course’s golf carts. How they hadn’t been caught, I’ll never know.

“Uh, sure,” Kyle stuttered.

“Guys, knock it off. Kyle came to my party,” I complained.

“You don’t want to decorate lanterns, do you, Kyle?” Christian asked, sounding a little like a mob boss.

“No,” Kyle was quick to say, like he’d lose some man points if he said yes.

“Good man.” Brandon slapped him on the back, making the poor guy wince. Dang those boys, even if I was half in love with Brandon. Maybe more than half.

I stood there and watched as my one shot for a sweet sixteen kiss walked up the stairs with my brother and the boy who had driven me crazy—in the best and worst ways—over the years. Naturally, all my friends followed after them .

Mom and Dad watched the scene before us, giving me sympathetic looks. Christian and Brandon always stole the show, without even trying.

Mom came over, wrapped her arms around me, and whispered in my ear, “Someday Christian will grow up and realize the world doesn’t revolve around him.”

I laughed. “I’m not so sure.”

Mom kissed my cheek. “Just remember, darling, it’s girls like you who make the world go round.” She always said that. More importantly, she made me believe it.

“Let’s do cake and ice cream now,” Dad suggested. “I made the cake to look like a sugared winter forest.” Dad was always so proud of his cakes. He said if he hadn’t decided to study anthropology, he would have opened a bakery.

“Let me finish the final touches on my lantern and I’ll be right up.” Which was code for: I need to get that note before someone else finds it.

“All right, honey. Don’t be too long.” Mom gave me one more squeeze.

Dad reached for her hand, and together they walked up the stairs. I loved how much my parents loved each other—and me. And Christian, I guess. The jerk.

As soon as they were out of sight, I dashed over to the utility closet where we kept all our camping gear. I snuck in like I had a starring role in a James Bond film and had to detonate a bomb. My heart kind of felt like it might explode. A little hate note shouldn’t bring me so much happiness. Neither should my brother’s best friend, but some things just couldn’t be helped.

I searched every built-in shelf to the sound of the rumbly furnace. It took me thirty seconds to spot a bright-blue corner peeking out from beneath one of our camp stoves. It was Brandon’s signature sticky note color. He usually gave me all the other colors in the pack and kept just that shade, like he was egging me on to continue our dumb game. Believe me, I was happy to keep playing it with him. I supposed someday soon it would be over. Adults didn’t play games like this.

I carefully slid the sticky note out and read it. Happy birthday, Holly-Pops. You’re welcome for coming to your party. Best gift you’ll ever get.

I rolled my eyes. He was so full of himself, even if he was right. I was happy he’d come. I didn’t even care that he called me Holly-Pops, the nickname he and Christian had made up when I became obsessed with lollipops at the age of ten. Thankfully, I had since recovered from that strange addiction. It probably had something to do with getting my first cavity.

It startled me when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I shoved the note down my bra since I was wearing a lacy dress with a layered skirt and no pockets. Christian had teased me earlier, saying that it made me look like a wannabe Barbie doll.

With the note hidden, I bolted out of the utility room, trying to think of an excuse for why I’d been in there. But the person who belonged to the footsteps already knew why.

“Brandon,” I said, like the breathy teen girl I was. “What are you doing down here? I thought you would be trespassing on the golf course by now.”

Brandon didn’t say a word. Instead, his brown eyes with flecks of gold like a caramel brownie moved over every inch of me. No one had ever looked so hungrily at me. It made me feel exposed, yet seen. And did I ever want Brandon to see me.

As Brandon inched toward me, I backed up against the wall for fear my knees might buckle. The charged atmosphere spoke of something significant happening. Anticipation crackled in the air, making me feel vulnerable and breathless.

Brandon came to stand inches in front of me, filling my nose with his musky cologne.

“Hi,” I whispered, not knowing what else to say.

Brandon moved in closer, his tall frame towering above me. “Happy birthday, Holly.” He ran a finger down my smooth cheek, leaving a trail of fire.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Was I going to get my Princess Diaries moment? A foot-popping kiss with the boy of my dreams?

“Thank you,” I stammered, hardly able to speak .

Brandon’s hand slid across my cheek and into my hair, while his other hand rested at my waist like he was a pro at this. No doubt he was—I’d seen all the gorgeous girls he’d dated. He drew my body closer with just the slightest coaxing of his hand on my waist while his head lowered, his lips hovering above mine.

“You’re beautiful, Holly,” he whispered before his lips brushed mine.

I gripped his tie, feeling so wonderfully lightheaded. Brandon thought I was beautiful and kissed me. My foot was so going to pop.

His lips found mine again. This time they moved more urgently, yet still tenderly. Instinctively, my lips parted, and he didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss. His tongue swept my mouth over and over again, exploring every inch. He tasted like chocolate and peppermint and all the good things.

I don’t remember how long the kiss lasted. All I knew was it was the best birthday gift ever, even better than the car my parents had given me. I knew something else, too.

I loved Brandon Cassidy.