Hot Cocoa Hearts Page 11

  “That’s what I was told.” He nodded. “It’s not exactly brand-new, though. I had to get it discounted. It came used from some online store.”

  “It’s great,” I said, meaning it. “And what about your final Secret Santa gift? Are you happy with it?”

  “Some labels are so corrupt, but still, I’ve never been to a studio before. It’ll be cool.” He smiled, leaning toward me. “I know you helped with it. Nyssa told me.”

  I blushed. “I tried to come up with things you’d like …”

  “You did. You know me pretty well. Probably better than I know you.” He leaned toward me and whispered, “Maybe we can work on that?”

  Yes, please, I wanted to say, but my voice was lost somewhere between my spinning head and pounding pulse. Before I could find it, the overhead lights brightened and the music died away as Mrs. Finnegan stepped into the center of the room.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt the festivities,” she said, “but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut the party short on account of weather.” She gestured toward the window, where snow flurries were swirling across the purpling sky. “The storm’s starting earlier than expected, and the school’s notified your parents to pick you up.”

  Groans and protests rose up around the room as Mrs. Finnegan ushered everyone out into the hallway to get their coats. I hung back beside Sawyer, frustrated at having to leave the party right when Sawyer and I seemed to be on the threshold of something big.

  We walked outside into the steadily cascading snow and watched as most of the rest of the class got into waiting cars. As Nyssa’s au pair pulled to the curb, Nyssa surprised me by hugging me again.

  “Merry Christmas, Em,” she said, then pulled back, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I forgot you hate it. Um, ‘Merry Grinchmas’?”

  “Nice try.” I laughed. “I’ll take the ‘Merry Christmas.’ Just this once.” I waved as she slid into the car.

  It was only after her car had disappeared that I realized Sawyer and I were alone on the sidewalk. My pulse roared as I turned to see him watching me, smiling.

  Sawyer glanced skyward, blinking into the snowflakes. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m sorry the party’s over.”

  “Sad to leave behind all the Chipmunks’ Christmas carols?” I teased.

  My heart bounded into my throat when he shook his head, his tawny eyes darkening with sincerity. “No,” he said softly, “sad to leave you.”

  “Oh,” I whispered, weak-kneed.

  He took a step closer. “I’d like to see you sometime over winter break.”

  “That would be great,” I said breathlessly.

  He smiled. “This Saturday? We could go to the movies.”

  “Ooh, yes!” I cried. “There’s a showing of Bela Lugosi’s Dracula at Vintage Cinemas. I love that version.”

  “Vampires? Not my fave.” His forehead crinkled in distaste. “I was actually thinking about the documentary on Blink-182?”

  “Sure!” I said enthusiastically. It didn’t sound like as much fun, but I could always catch Lugosi another time. What I wanted took a backseat to the idea of my first official date with Sawyer. I grinned, then shivered involuntarily as a gust of bitter wind blew down the street, whisking my black trilby hat right off my head. I rushed down the sidewalk after it, but Sawyer beat me to it. I started to reach for it, but he gently slid it back onto my head.

  “That was a heroic rescue,” I said.

  “Nah.” He shook his head. “You don’t need rescuing.” He smiled, and then, in a gesture that took my breath away, turned up the corners of my coat collar, and still holding onto them, gently eased me toward him. “But it gave me an excuse to get closer, so I could do this.”

  “Do what?” I could feel myself trembling as I asked the question.

  He leaned toward me, and my eyes closed instinctively as my heart pummeled my chest. I’d dreamed of this, and now the moment was here. But at the last second, when we were so close I felt the warmth of his breath, I panicked and turned my face to the side. His lips brushed against my cheek.

  Heated embarrassment coursed through me, and we both pulled back in surprise.

  “Sorry,” I blustered, peering worriedly into his bewildered eyes. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No worries,” he said nonchalantly. “Practice makes perfect, right?” His voice was its easygoing self, but there was a tautness underneath its surface. He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and took a step back.

  “Um … yeah.” My heart sank. Of all the times I’d imagined what it would be like to kiss Sawyer, none of them had included a slipup of this magnitude. I tried to close up the space between us, determined to give it another go, even if it meant that I made the first move. But he peered over my shoulder as sweeping headlights brightened his face.

  “I think that’s your mom?” He nodded toward the street, and I sighed as Mom pulled up, waving at me to climb in.

  “So … Saturday?” I asked hesitantly, hoping I hadn’t botched the kiss so badly that he was having second thoughts about our date.

  “Definitely,” he said, giving me a reassuring smile. “I’ll text you with showtimes tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Relief washed over me, but after the car pulled away into the slushy street, I sank back against the seat, cringing. My first kiss ever. My first kiss with the most perfect boy in the world, and it hadn’t even been a kiss as much as an awkward peck on the cheek. How could something so delicious in my dreams be such a disaster in real life?

  “What do you mean, the kiss was bad?” Jez’s screech was so incredulous, I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

  “It wasn’t even really a kiss.” I flopped back against the pillows of my bed, tucking my blanket tighter around me to ward off the chill that seemed to be permeating every corner of our house. Outside, the snow was falling thick and fast. “He got my cheek.”

  “Because you moved! Do we need to review the rules for kissing? When a guy is coming in for a landing, you don’t move the runway!”

  “I know.” I groaned. “I sort of froze.” I shifted uncomfortably on the bed, remembering the weird hesitation that had come over me just before his lips met mine. I tried to pull up any recollection of fireworks or blazing sparks I could find. There wasn’t a trace … not even a fizzle.

  “Em.” Jez was all seriousness now. “This is just your expectations meshing with reality. You’ve spent so much time dreaming about this, there’s no way it could possibly live up to the fairy tale you created in your head. And now that you’ve gotten the first kiss over with, the second one can only be better.”

  “Absolutely,” I said, feeling an inkling of confidence returning. “By the way, thanks for helping Sawyer with my gifts. The camera is amazing!”

  “What?”

  “He told me one of my friends gave him Secret Santa pointers.” I smiled into the phone. “You denied it before, but now the secret’s out. It had to be you.”

  There was surprised silence on the other end of the line. “It wasn’t, Em. I swear. He didn’t talk to me about the Secret Santa stuff at all.”

  My brow furrowed. “But if you didn’t help him, who did?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe Lyra? Or Nyssa?”

  “Maybe,” I mumbled. But did Lyra or Nyssa know me well enough to give Sawyer such dead-on suggestions? I wasn’t sure.

  I was interrupted by a knock sounding on my bedroom door. I lifted my head off the pillow to see Mom sticking her head around the door, motioning for me to come downstairs.

  “Jez, I gotta go,” I said into the phone. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” she said. “It’s looking like it’ll definitely be a snow day!”

  Once I hung up the phone, the pitching of my insides returned. Each time I thought about the missed kiss, heated embarrassment filled me. Trying to shake it off, I went downstairs to see what Mom needed. I found her in her office, frantically printing out pictures and burning files ont
o CDs. Piles of order forms and papers were scattered across the floor.

  “Whoa.” I took in the mess. “Did the storm blow through here, too?”

  “Funny,” Mom mumbled, her eyes never shifting from her computer screen. “No. I’m trying to get these orders printed and ready before the weather gets any worse. I’m supposed to drop off a bunch of holiday cards at people’s houses tomorrow. But with the storm, who knows if the power will hold out.”

  “Really?” I glanced at the window to see snow piling up rapidly on its sill. “I didn’t think it was supposed to be that bad.”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice had a frazzled edge. “It’s coming down hard already.”

  The wind gave a low moan, and I instinctively flipped up the hood of my sweatshirt. “Um, did you need my help with something?”

  Mom snapped her fingers, as if she’d just remembered. “Yes! Hot cider. Could you make your dad a cup? He’s down in the basement. I’ve tried everything to get him out of this funk he’s in, but right now I’ve got so much to do. Maybe you could cheer him up—”

  “Sure,” I said quickly, knowing that I was mostly responsible for his funk to begin with. “Do you want some, too?” It was what we always did on snowy nights like this. Dad usually lit a fire and we sat around the Christmas tree, sipping cider and playing cheesy board games. “I’m going to make myself a cup.”

  “Not right now.” She flipped through her papers, muttering to herself.

  I left Mom to her chaos, made two cups of cider, and headed for the basement. The second I reached the bottom stair, I regretted it. Dad was in his recliner, his eyes on the television, his smile even sadder than usual. When I glanced at the screen, I understood why. There was six-year-old me, clad in pajamas and laughing wildly on Christmas morning as I raced to the pile of presents under the tree. As I tore open the first package, Grandma scooped me onto her lap, kissing the top of my head while I unwrapped a doll.

  “I forgot all about that doll,” I said, suddenly remembering that I’d called her Posy. “I took her everywhere with me.”

  Dad gave a start at seeing me there in the room, and then he nodded. “Grandma went to a dozen toy stores to find that doll. It was sold out almost everywhere. But she wouldn’t rest until she got one for you.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I said quietly.

  Dad sighed. “Look at that smile.” He stared at the wide-eyed, giggling little girl filling the screen. “Magic.”

  I felt a pang of guilt, and looked away from the television. “I brought you some cider,” I offered, holding it out to him.

  He shook his head. “Thanks, but my heartburn’s acting up tonight, so I’ll pass.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I searched for something cheery to say. “Well, do you want to come upstairs? If you’re lucky, I might even let you beat me in a round of Christmas-opoly.”

  Dad glanced up in surprise. “You hate that game.”

  I shrugged. “As long as you don’t start doing Jimmy Stewart impressions halfway through, I’ll survive.”

  He laughed softly, and for a second, he looked like he was going to get up. Then he shook his head. “No, it’s all right. Go on back upstairs. Don’t worry about me.”

  My heart sagged. “Okay,” I said. “Let me know if you change your mind.” I took the stairs slowly, my spirits fading. This was what I’d wanted for months—a Christmas without Hallmark fanfare and campy traditions. But without my dad’s schoolboy excitement, without the eye rolls I exchanged with Mom over his ridiculous parodies of Christmas carols and his recitations from It’s a Wonderful Life, everything felt wrong. As I passed the family room on the way to the kitchen, my eyes fell on the darkened fireplace, and I shivered. This time, more from loneliness than cold.

  His head bent toward me, and his arms wrapped around my shoulders. His face was in shadow, but I knew it was right. His lips came close to mine. My heart bubbled with happiness and expectation, and …

  “Em!” The voice broke through my delicious reverie. “Emery, sweetie. Wake up!”

  I reluctantly opened my eyes, feeling instant disappointment. It was morning, I was in my bed, and Mom was standing at the door, calling my name.

  It had only been a dream.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Mom said. “Good news, school is canceled! But Dad and I are going out for a bit.”

  “Huh?” I tried to shake off my drowsiness. “Why?”

  “It’s still snowing. Coming down steady.” Mom motioned to the window, and I could see at least a foot piled up on the rooftops across the street. “But I’ve got to deliver these orders. We’re going now, just in case the roads turn icy.” She turned to the hallway. “We’ll be back by lunch.”

  “Okay, bye,” I mumbled, flopping back onto the pillow. I was glad to have a snow day; it made me feel like a little kid.

  A few minutes later, I heard the rumble of Dad’s SUV pulling out of the driveway. Yanking the covers over my head, I tried to go back to sleep. But after tossing and turning for a while, I finally gave up, got dressed, and trudged downstairs for some cereal.

  As I ate, the loneliness I’d felt last night returned. Without Mom and Dad, the house was too quiet. I picked up my cell to call Jez, then stopped. I realized, with a jolt of surprise, that it wasn’t Jez I really wanted to talk to right now. I think I knew why. There was someone else I was really missing.

  I dumped the rest of my cereal, scribbled a note to my parents, grabbed my sled from the garage, and headed down the sidewalk, hoping he’d be home.

  My heart sped up as I climbed the steps to his front porch, and I hesitated before knocking, suddenly feeling all my nerve rush out of me.

  I held my breath as I heard the lock turning from the inside, and when Alex opened the door, my heart leapt. It was so good to see him, and I was struck with how cute he looked. It stunned me for a moment, but a second later, I broke into a wide smile. He didn’t return it, but I swallowed and pressed on.

  I held out the thermos I’d brought with me. “Before you say anything, it’s not hot chocolate. Mine would never stand up to the competition.”

  “You’re right about that,” he said gruffly. He was doing his best to look grumpy, but he was having a hard time pulling it off. I hadn’t realized until this moment how much I’d missed him.

  “It’s hot apple cider,” I said, nodding toward the thermos. “A peace offering. And,” I added as the wind blew a fresh wave of snow right into my face, “possibly a bribe for you to let me come in? I’m standing in a polar vortex here.”

  He performed a perfect eye roll, and if I hadn’t been so afraid he might shut the door in my face, I would’ve told him I was proud. “Come in,” he finally said, swinging the door open wider.

  “Thanks,” I said in relief. Once I was standing in his kitchen, with him waiting, arms crossed, I knew I had to keep going. I took a deep breath and spoke again. “I came over to say I’m sorry. I lost my temper last week. I said things I didn’t mean. I don’t always agree with what you think. But”—I heaved a sigh—“can we make up? Because the thing is”—I looked into his softening eyes, my heart racing—“I miss you.”

  He was quiet for a long minute, focusing on emptying the thermos into two cups, and my stomach tensed with worry. I didn’t know what I’d do if he didn’t accept my apology. Finally, his face relaxed a bit, and he handed me my cup.

  “You make it tough to say no, Em,” he finally said with a sigh. “I’m sorry, too. I need to learn to keep my mouth shut. Maybe I give too much advice.”

  “You do,” I said, elbowing him. “But some of it’s pretty dead-on. Listening to you is sort of like eating vegetables. I don’t always want to do it, but deep inside, I know it’s good for me.”

  He stared at me over his cup, and then we both burst out laughing.

  “That might have been the most offensive compliment I’ve ever heard,” he said when he finally caught his breath.

  “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

 
“Yeah.” He grinned, and this time there was nothing hesitant about it. “And”—his eyes turned serious—“I missed you, too.”

  My face warmed under his gaze, and I scrambled for a way to lighten things up. “Yeah, well, I didn’t miss you giving me the hot chocolate hard sell all the time.”

  He took a sip of his cider. “This is good. But hot chocolate’s better.”

  I snorted. “You’ll never learn when to quit, will you?”

  His eyes glinted with challenge. “Neither will you.”

  “And here I thought I’d find you weak and vulnerable from being sick.”

  He shook his head. “Oh no. Abuelo had me take a temazcal herb steam treatment, and I’m way better.” In response to what must have been my blank look, he added, “It’s an old Oaxacan tradition.”

  “Oh, cool. So, if you’re feeling better, do you think you’d be up for some sledding? I walked by the hill at Main Street Park, and it’s got at least two feet of hard-packed snow now.” That spot was my dad’s favorite sledding hill.

  Alex nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve been cooped up in this house all week. Sounds great. Just let me go upstairs and get the okay from Abuelo.”

  “Tell him I promise not to throw any snowballs at your poor stuffy nose unless you really deserve it.”

  “My nose isn’t stuffy anymore.” Alex laughed as he headed for the stairs in the foyer. “And I don’t think it’s me he’s going to be worried about.”

  “Truce!” I cried as another snowball smacked me on the head. I sputtered, wiping snow off my frozen lips. “Hey, have you no mercy? I’m calling a truce!”

  Another snowball flew toward me, and I ducked behind the sled, using it as a barricade.

  “Didn’t you know I’m going to be a pitcher for the school baseball team?” Alex called to me as another snowball whizzed by, nearly missing my shoulder.

  “No!” I called back through my laughter. “I’m not exactly up on the sports extracurriculars, remember?”

  “Well, that was before you met me. I expect you to come to at least one game.”