I look back at the construction area. Sofiya has four walls up and is balancing the roof while she pipes frosting along the edge to hold it in place. Lincoln has a square of gingerbread in one hand, bites taken out of it, and an assortment of candy in the other. He clearly decided to skip the assembly part and go straight to the eating part. Annabelle and Derek are huddled close, giving only a fraction more attention to their builds than to each other. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves and having a good time. I stepped out of my comfort zone, and it wasn’tsobad. Maybe I could do the same thing with Jeremy, too.
Running my hand over the crisscross pattern of my braid, I remind myself I can be like Katniss, if only a little bit, and stride (maybe with more of a combination of determination and reluctance than confidence) toward Jeremy.
“Do you need a hand?” My voice isn’t the strongest, but I manage to project enough volume that he hears me.
He looks down, a shadow hiding half his face. “Sure. Can you hand me that hook right there?”
I grab the plastic hook and hold it up to him. Our fingers brush as he takes it from me.
A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm. Keri’s words about my face saying what my mouth doesn’t flash back to me. Oh no. Will Jeremy see that I’ve been harboring a secret crush on him for almost two years? Can he somehow deduce my hidden feelings from the momentary contact of our fingers?
Stop being ridiculous. Neither of you isE.T. with magical glowing fingers that can read theother’s thoughts or emotions.Although it’sbeen so long since I’ve seen the movie, maybe that’s not even what E.T’s long, creepy extraterrestrial digits did.
“Thanks.” Jeremy’s voice snaps me back to reality.
He sounds normal. He looks normal. Maybe he isn’t aware of my momentary freak-out.
I swallow, wishing I couldbenormal. Noticing he needs another branch, I bend down and grab one from his pile. When he reaches to take it, I see red bumps up and down his forearm. Without thinking, I slide the tops of my fingers along the aggravated skin. Only a small part at the back of my mind registers the corded muscles beneath my touch.
Jeremy jerks in surprise, which makes me snatch my hand back, my face heating like an oven.
“Sorry,” we say in unison.
Jeremy smiles, but I duck my head. The rash must bother him. I wonder what it’s from.
“Does it itch?” When I look back up, he’s scratching his arm.
His smile turns guilty. “I forgot I’m allergic to the resin in pine sap. We’ve used artificial trees since I was a kid, so it slipped my mind.”
“I might have some cream in my purse that could help.”
“Your Mary Poppins bag with the toothpaste that saved the day yesterday?” His mouth hitches on one side, pulling his cleft chin and making the feature more pronounced.
I let the noise from everyone else on the other side of the room drag my gaze away. “I wouldn’t say it saved the day.”
“Don’t be modest. You were Sofiya’s hero.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”
He shakes his head. “You’ve got to be your loudest cheerleader. Play up your win. Especially to Sofiya.”
My head cocks to the side. Why is he telling me this? It won’t do him any good for Sofiya to have a bunch of positive thoughts and opinions about me. He shouldn’t be giving me tips. Not if he wants to win, and Iknowhe wants to win.
“Why are you telling me this?” Wow. A thought actually traveled from my brain to my mouth without any road bumps, stop signs, or detours.
He blinks, his smile falling in confusion. “I don’t know.” Then he sort of shakes himself, and his cool confidence returns. “Should we practice our trash talk instead?” He puts his face right in front of mine. “You’re going down, Mackenzie Graham. Down like the dried fruit in a fruitcake if it’s not dusted in a little flour before being added to the batter.”
“What?” The word is carried out of my mouth on a laugh.
He grins. “I watchedThe Great British Baking Showwith Natalie last night on Netflix.” He pokes me with an elbow. “Your turn.”
I try to ignore the concentrated heat in my arm from his gentle jab. Trash talk. I’ve never trash-talked before in my life.
“Umm...”
He’s totally focused on my face. At one point I would have compared Jeremy to the sun. He brings warmth and light whenever he’s around, and he’s completely dependable at showing up every day. But you can’t look at the sun. Not directly. And I am looking at Jeremy now. Holding his gaze, being drawn in, filling myself with his energy.
His confidence, it seems, has been directed at me. He’s looking at me as if he has no doubts at all that I can rise to his challenge. Or any challenge, for that matter. That I am capable and competent, and he’s waiting on edge to see what I’ll do or say next.
