Hot Cocoa Hearts Read online

  I scoffed. “I don’t have a relationship with Sawyer.”

  “Yet,” Jez reminded me.

  The bell rang, and we headed for the door to the gym. But for the rest of class, my thoughts bounced back and forth between the cute pouty elf mug and Sawyer. Whenever I thought of either one, I smiled. I felt a heart-thrilling, toe-tingling anticipation. It was the kind of feeling that usually meant something wonderful was about to happen.

  Sitting side by side with Sawyer in the cafeteria was so perfect I could barely breathe with the electrifying shivers shooting up and down my spine. Our shoulders were almost brushing, and I could smell the spiciness of his hair gel.

  “This should only take a sec,” I said as we waited for my tablet to pull up all the photo files.

  “It’s all good,” Sawyer said, tucking a beautiful purpled strand of hair behind his ear. Forget the camera. That was a view I could stare at all day long.

  “Okay,” I said as the pictures popped up in a grid on the screen. “I wasn’t sure exactly what you were looking for, but you mentioned dark, punk. So I tried a couple different things.”

  Sawyer swiped his finger across the screen, studying each craggy, ice-coated tree, each windblown wreath. I’d manipulated the exposures in most of the pictures to create a haunted feel.

  “Whoa. This one’s twisted.” He nodded in appreciation at a plastic Rudolph yard ornament that I’d made look skeletonized. “I didn’t know you had such a dark side.”

  “You have no idea,” I joked, trying to play the compliment off coolly while my cheeks flushed. “Most of the time I use Photoshop. But with this one, I manipulated the negative by hand, just for fun. My mom has this vintage camera that still uses thirty-five-millimeter film rolls. She taught me how to use it and develop pictures in an actual dark room.”

  “Huh.” He nodded, but had a slightly glazed look in his eyes that made it seem like he was losing interest. “I never take pictures. I’ve never seen the point of reliving the past. Life’s all about the present, you know?”

  “Oh. Sure.” I acted like I got that, even though the idea of not having pictures of friends and family from the past seemed like such a sad loss. “There’s so much more you can do with pictures, though, don’t you think? Create a story within a picture, add something that wasn’t there before, change the feeling—”

  I stopped talking when I saw his eyes suddenly freeze on the screen. He burst out laughing.

  “This one.” He pointed. It was a photo of a tantruming toddler in a Santa’s hat, stomping on a present. It was one of the photos I’d taken at the mall last week. “This one’s perfect. It captures everything we want to say in this album.”

  “Really?” My spirits lifted. So what if the photo he’d picked wasn’t one of the ones I’d taken specifically for him? Mom was always telling me that was what happened with her customers, too. She said they always bought prints of her least favorite photos. “So what is it you’re trying to say?” I asked Sawyer. “In the album, I mean?”

  “Didn’t I tell you already?” His amber eyes settled on mine, and the air rushed out of my lungs. “We’ve titled it Bah Humbug. It’s an anti-Christmas album.” He motioned to Gabe and the other band members, who were sitting a few feet away, eating. “We want to speak out against the deception of the holiday. You know, the hoax of it all.”

  “That’s unbelievable.” I stared at him. “I feel the same way. That’s why I took that picture! Because I get so tired of people pretending it’s a season of joy when really it’s a bunch of misery.”

  “I hear that,” he said empathetically, and there was a spark of enthusiasm in his eyes that hadn’t been there up until now. “And the mall is the worst. That jingly music is torture. And the people! All wearing tight smiles while underneath they’re wishing they could just get the holiday season over with. The people who work there must be crazy. Or desperate. How else could they put up with the charade?”

  “Yeah,” I managed weakly, my stomach twisting uneasily. “I know what you mean. Of course, some of them might not have a choice.”

  He stared at me like I’d said the world was flat. “Everyone has a choice. Nobody just forces somebody into doing something he doesn’t believe in.”

  “Wanna bet?” I quipped. “My parents can.”

  “It’s obvious why,” he said. “They’re probably complete conformists.” He glanced at me, seemingly waiting for agreement, so I quickly nodded. Of course he was right to think that. After all, he’d probably seen the Holly Jolly House. “My parents are free-bird types. They’re not much into rules.”

  “I don’t suppose they’d consider adopting?”

  He smiled. “That bad, huh?”

  “Not all the time. But this time of year especially.”

  “How come?” For the first time since we’d started talking, he looked so sincerely interested that my heart tripped with hope. Sawyer Kade wanted to know about me. It was enough to make me dizzy with happiness. But I had to be careful. My eyes flicked over to where Alex was sitting with his friends. I’d managed to avoid telling Sawyer about working at the mall so far, and I wanted to keep it that way. If he knew the truth, he’d think I wasn’t strong enough to stand up for my beliefs. Or that I was a hypocrite. Now that we were finally talking after all the time I’d spent crushing on him from a distance, I didn’t want to mess it up.

  I hesitated, debating how much, if anything, I wanted to share, when suddenly, from across the cafeteria, I heard music. The lunchtime chatter trickled to whispers as four kids I recognized from the glee club danced across the room dressed as candy canes and singing “Jingle Bells” in perfect harmony. When I realized they were headed straight for us, my first instinct was to run. My second was to sink into the floor and die. Neither was possible.

  When the quartet was a few feet from where Sawyer and I were sitting, they changed their tune to “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” turning all their smiling faces in Sawyer’s direction. I glanced at Sawyer, who was watching the escapade with a mixture of bemusement and nonchalance. As soon as the quartet finished singing, they presented him with a bouquet of red and green balloons and candy canes.

  “Let me guess,” Gabe said as he walked over to inspect Sawyer’s balloons. “Secret Santa strikes again?”

  Sawyer glanced at the note attached to his bouquet and nodded, then shrugged. “It could’ve been worse. And in defense of my Secret Santa, I’m not that easy to buy for,” he said good-naturedly. He turned to me. “Are you having better luck with yours?”

  I nodded. “My gifts have been great so far. Although I really wasn’t into the whole thing in the first place.”

  “Me neither,” he said. “Still, though, I guess it’s a good way to get to know people better.” He gave his balloons a shake. “Or … not.”

  The bell rang, and I felt a twinge of disappointment that our time was over so soon. We stood to throw our trash away, and then he turned back, those soulful eyes peering out at me from under his dark, jagged bangs. “That picture will be perfect for the CD cover. You totally got what I needed.”

  “Thanks.” My blush deepened. “I’ll email you the picture right now.”

  “Perfect. The CDs should be ready sometime next week.”

  “I’d love a copy,” I blurted.

  He smiled. “You’ll be the first person I give one to.”

  Then he was gone in the crowd of kids shuffling out of the cafeteria, taking my heart with him.

  “I can’t believe it,” Jez said within seconds of Sawyer being safely out of earshot. “I’ve never seen him look at a girl that way before. Plenty of girls look at him that way, but never the other way around.”

  Even though I wanted to be rational about this, my smile kept spreading. “I just wish I knew for sure how he felt. You know, something concrete—” I stopped midsentence and grabbed Jez’s arm. “I can’t believe it. She’s actually wearing it!”

  I motioned to Nyssa, who was a few feet ahead of us in
the crowd of kids, showing off the fitted pink tee I’d slipped into her schoolbag on the way out of homeroom this morning. It was my second Secret Santa gift to her. On the front of the shirt was a quote from Glee’s Rachel that read: I look forward to the day the paparazzi provokes me and I attack them. I’d taken a risk with it, not knowing how much of a sense of humor Nyssa really had.

  But as I watched, I heard her saying to Dana, one of her glee friends, “I love it! It’s so me, don’t you think?”

  “I guess,” Dana said lackadaisically as she fiddled with her lip gloss. “I never pictured you wearing campy TV slogans before.”

  “Me neither,” Nyssa said with her tinkly laugh. “But it’s fun. It does make me feel guilty about the Secret Santa gifts I’ve been giving, though. I can’t get any of them right.” She sighed, tucking a strand of her glossy blond hair behind her ear. “Did you see Sawyer’s face in the cafeteria? He hated the singing holiday gram. I want to give him something he likes, but the problem is, I don’t get Sawyer at all!”

  “I do!” I blurted, and three pairs of shocked eyes turned my direction. Jez gave me a “what are you doing?” glance, and Dana’s brow knitted in confusion. Nyssa gave me a slightly mystified but not unwelcoming smile. “Get Sawyer, I mean.” I swallowed, pressing onward. “Look, I heard you talking about the Secret Santa thing. And … I know Sawyer. I could help with ideas if you want.”

  Nyssa breathed out a sigh of relief. “Really? That would be awesome, because I’m getting desperate.”

  “Yeah, the holiday gram made that loud and clear.” I realized as soon as I said it that it might have been wiser to tone down my usual sarcasm.

  But Nyssa’s eyes widened in astonishment, and then she burst into giggles, shaking her head. “You and Sawyer must really be soul mates.”

  My adrenaline surged. “Wait. What do you mean?”

  “Oops.” She slapped her hand to her mouth in a dramatic gesture perfectly suited to stage performances. Then she leaned toward me conspiratorially. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but it’s just too perfect.” She grinned gleefully and whispered, “Sawyer’s your Secret Santa.”

  My breath caught. “What?” I gasped when I was finally able to talk.

  Nyssa nodded. “It’s true! I heard him talking about it outside Mr. Gunther’s history class the other day.”

  My mind reeled giddily, trying to process what I’d heard. Sawyer … It was like a dream come true. I wanted to laugh, or dance, or shriek with joy, but then the late bell buzzed and we all jumped.

  Nyssa gave a childish pout, clearly sad to be missing out on the chance to gossip more. “I have to go or Mrs. Jenkins will give me a tardy again.” She waved to me and Jez as she and Dana walked away. “I’m going to pick your brain about you-know-who later!” she called over her shoulder.

  I nodded, then turned to Jez, smiling dazedly.

  “Sawyer’s my Secret Santa.” I shook my head. “That’s, that’s—”

  “Fate,” Jez finished for me.

  Three hours later, I set my brand-new mug down on the counter at Cocoa Cravings and said, “Fill ’er up.”

  “I don’t even get a ‘hello’?” Alex said teasingly.

  “Eh,” I said in my best blasé tone. “We’re past that. You don’t want my ‘hello’ as much as you want my hot chocolate conversion, so I figured I’d cut to the chase.”

  “You got me there.” He laughed and poured me some hot chocolate. “I call this one Caramel Crush.”

  I took a sip and salt crystals and caramel zinged pleasantly over my tongue. But it left a sticky, sugary coating in my mouth. “It was off to a promising start,” I said. “Then it turned syrupy.”

  Alex sighed. “You’re one tough critic.”

  “Sorry.” I shrugged.

  He grinned, then examined my mug and whistled. “That’s one tough-looking elf.”

  A blush rose to my cheeks. “It was my second Secret Santa gift. I got it today.” I waited a beat for dramatic effect before adding, “From Sawyer.”

  Alex’s eyes widened momentarily. “So that’s what’s behind your good mood. I thought maybe you stole all the toys from the Whos down in Who-ville on your way here or something.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll get my Grinch on another day.”

  His laugh was delayed in coming, and it sounded forced. He turned to rinse out my mug at the sink behind the counter. “That’s big news. How’d you find out Sawyer was your Secret Santa?”

  “Nyssa’s his Secret Santa. While I was offering to help her pick out some gifts for him, she accidentally on purpose spilled the beans,” I explained. “She’s stuck on the idea of the two of us being meant for each other. So is Jez.”

  “And you believe it, too,” he said matter-of-factly as he set the clean mug in my hands.

  “I—I do.” My heart hammered wildly as he looked at me. “Before I knew he was my Secret Santa, it was tough to tell if I’d ever have a shot with him. I mean, I thought we’d have a connection if he ever noticed me. But now I know he’s been noticing me all along.” I smiled. “This changes everything.”

  Alex regarded the mug thoughtfully. “Look,” he said finally, “I don’t want to burst your bubble or anything, but what if he doesn’t know you the way you think he does?”

  I stared at him, feeling an itch of irritation. What did Alex know? “We both love the same music, we both hate Christmas. Plus, he knows I love Venom candy, and the mug is basically made for me.”

  “What if someone else is helping him pick out the gifts he’s giving you? The way you’re going to be helping Nyssa.” His shoulders tensed, like this whole conversation was making him uncomfortable. “I’m just saying that maybe you shouldn’t read too much into it.”

  “And maybe you shouldn’t be so negative,” I snapped, frowning. Why was he acting so weird about this? And why should his opinion matter to me, anyway? I sighed, crossing my arms. “I shouldn’t have told you. I had a feeling you didn’t like Sawyer.”

  “I like Sawyer just fine. That’s not the problem.”

  “Then, what is?” I glared at him, waiting.

  Alex blew out a breath. “Nothing. Forget it.” He shrugged. “You’re right. It’s not any of my business.” He gave me a smile. It wasn’t his usual wide, easy smile, but smaller, more polite, and somehow less real. “Anyway, it’s nice to see you enjoying something about Christmas. Finally!”

  “Nuh-uh.” I wagged a finger at him. “Don’t even think about giving Christmas the credit for this. This is Sawyer’s doing.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I just thought if you were coming around to the idea of Christmas, it might make what I’m about to tell you easier to take.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. I did not like the sound of this. “What are you up to? Spill it.”

  He held up his hands innocently. “It wasn’t me, I swear. Abuelo and your dad were talking. They had it all planned out before I even got here from school.”

  “Had what planned?” I asked.

  “Our trip into Manhattan this Saturday. Abuelo has to go to this store called Kalustyan’s. That’s where he does his spice shopping for the hot chocolate. It’s the best place to get Pasilla de Oaxaca chilies. Your dad thought it’d be fun for you to tag along to see the city decked out for the holidays. He said you used to go in with your grandma, but you haven’t been since—”

  “I can’t believe this!” I interrupted, wincing at the mention of Grandma. “What, are you all conspiring against me now?”

  Alex laughed. “Not conspiring. More like gently coaxing …”

  “Ha.” I rolled my eyes and glanced toward the North Pole Wonderland, where I could see my dad looking in our direction and smiling. “What happens if I refuse to go?”

  “Your dad said that might happen. In which case, you’d have to work a double shift at North Pole Wonderland.” Alex’s eyes twinkled, and I sighed in annoyance. He was enjoying this way too much. “Oh, and there’d be a bonus, free photo for eve
ry customer posing with Emery the Elf.”

  My head dropped to the countertop as I groaned. “Fine,” I muttered into the granite. “I’ll go. But I still don’t see what you all are hoping to prove.”

  Alex grinned. “That you’re not as much of a scrooge as you think you are.”

  “Okay, you did not tell me this trip involved delivering toys,” I said as Alex and I hefted an enormous red bag out of his abuelo’s trunk.

  “Don’t worry,” Alex said over the din of the traffic streaming up Third Avenue. “There aren’t any chimneys involved.”

  “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel much better.” I stepped up on the curb, almost bumping into a passerby. I wasn’t used to the crowds and bustle of Manhattan.

  Alex smiled, closing the trunk and joining me on the sidewalk. “Look on the bright side. At least you don’t have to wear your elf costume.”

  Señor Perez rolled down the passenger-side window to say good-bye. “Have fun!” he called. “I’ll pick you up at Rockefeller Center at seven. Call my cell phone if you need me.”

  “Sí, sí, Abuelo.” Alex waved. “Hasta luego.”

  “Thank you!” I called into the car.

  As Señor Perez pulled away from the curb, I turned toward Alex. “Seven?” I repeated skeptically. “It’s going to take us four hours to deliver these presents?”

  “Oh no. There’s lots more torture, I mean fun, in store for you after this. Wait and see.” He laughed. But when my frown didn’t lessen, he gave me a nudge. “Come on, Em. You’ve had fun so far, haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said grudgingly. I’d actually had a lot of fun. On the drive into Manhattan, Alex and I had talked nonstop, debating our different tastes in music, movies, and books. As we teased each other and argued, we kept laughing, and the hour-long car ride had flown by. There were moments, too, when Alex would catch my eye in the middle of my talking, and a sudden, inexplicable shyness came over me. It was the way he looked at me. Like he wasn’t listening out of politeness but because he really wanted to hear what I had to say.