Page 77 of Pining for You

“That’s great!”

“Yeah, but it makes me a little nervous, you know? Like, what else is out there that I haven’t tried, or that I don’t know about? And if I commit to this one thing, will I be missing something else? I feel like I want to do it all!”

“So do it all, Strudel,” she says as a mischievous grin spreads across her face. “Take your time and try some stuff. You don’t have to rush into something just ’cause society says it’s what you’re supposed to do next. Follow your heart! Trust yourself.”

“My god, and you really still think I’m the romantic?” I ask her.

“Tragically romantic,” she says.

“Actually,” I start, but then pause for a deep, cold breath. I exhale the cleansing little cloud into the glittering night air. “Maybe I’m a humanist,” I finish the thought, echoing her words from the field.

“Oh, really?” she asks with a slow nod.

“Yeah, really.” I grin. “ ’Cause this very smart, beautiful girl told me once that humans are capable of creating their own magic, and it made a lot of sense.”

“I did say that, huh?” she asks. “Smart. And have you found evidence to support this brilliant theory?”

“I did,” I say, and lower my voice. “And if you are willing to believe me, I can show you proof.”

She looks intrigued, so I lean in close to her, like I’m going to tell her a secret. Then I look down, and she follows my gaze.

“I’m holding it,” I whisper, and nod to the tray of tamales in my hands.

“Psh, you’re crazy,” she says, now at full volume, and gives me a playful little shove. But then she doesn’t let go of my arm. Instead, she loops hers through it and pulls me closer. “But at least I know what to get you for Christmas.”

“Oh, jackpot,” I say, and the crosswalk we’ve just arrived at gives me an excuse to slow this down.

“And what about you?” I ask. “What do you want for Christmas?”

“Hmm,” she says, and looks up like she’s searching the stars for her one perfect wish. Then she lets out a small gasp, takes a step back, and—still looking at the sky—puts her hand on my forearm. “Wait, Strudel. Am I crazy?”

I force myself to turn my gaze to where she’s pointing, although I don’t want to take my eyes off her. And there, through the falling snow, I see it. A soft white halo around the moon.

“You’re not crazy,” I say as my breath becomes a quiet, reverent fog between us.

“It’s our moon,” she says.

“But there’s no snow in the forecast for tomorrow, is there?” she asks.

“Not that I know of…,” I say, but the word our is still reverberating in my brain. Our moon. What a thing to share custody of…

“Well, looks like we may be in for a surprise white Christmas Eve. That would be pretty cool,” she says.

“No,” I say, as our eyes lock, “it would be magic.”

There’s another beat and then only snow and cold breath between us. Everything around us melts away. It’s like when I focus the camera lens to blur out the background and make the subject clearer. She’s all I can see.

And this time I don’t have to wonder. I know. This is it.

And right as I lift my chin and my hesitation slowly evaporates and I think maybe—just maybe—I can kiss her, Eve’s phone buzzes.

“Shoot,” she says, reaching for it, then looking at the screen. “It’s Carlos. They’re all headed out. We gotta move.”

23

If someone could take a picture of the inside of my head during the holiday season, it would look a lot like Wade’s. The place is an arcade disguised as a hipster bar disguised as the North Pole. There are so many twinkle lights and ornaments hanging from the ceiling that it’s almost hard to see. Sabrina Carpenter is belting “A Nonsense Christmas” through the speakers over the zap-boom-pows of all the games, while servers crisscross the space in red-and-green suspenders and Santa hats. Despite the fact that the world is about to be under siege by a record-breaking snowstorm, Wade’s is a tornado of humanity, everyone whipped up into a preholiday frenzy.

Normally, I’d be thrilled to be in this place, but damn—the unfinished business of it all. When her phone went off, Carlos’s text sent us both into a comical frenzy of Right, okay, got the tamales, good, great, go!