Page 81 of And Now, Back to You

His forehead creases. “I really don’t understand your fascination with the pants.”

“They’re just so . . . undercover agent. I didn’t realize we were going on a top-secret mission while in Deep Creek.”

He rolls his eyes. “And I didn’t realize we were making a side trip to Candy Land.” He reaches over and pinches the very top of my snow pants. “How does Mark let you on camera with these?”

“The camera hits from the waist up. You, too, could have had hot pink snow pants, if only you dared to dream big enough.”

“Maybe next time.” In front of us, wind whistles around the door. It’s blisteringly cold, and we’re still inside. Jackson sighs. “Will you finally tell me why you feel the need to do this?”

I avoided the question the first three times he asked, self-conscious. I tuck the edges of my gloves under the sleeves of my jacket. “Because I want to,” I sidestep.

Jackson stares hard at the side of my head. “You want to lose your fingers to frostbite in the middle of the night?”

“Not particularly, no.”

I pull the set of keys I stole from Jackson’s backpack from my pocket. “I need to get something from the van.”

“I brought our bags in.”

“You forgot something.”

“What did I forget?”

“Something.”

Something doughnut-shaped with pink frosting.

Jackson’s gaze narrows, turning suspicious. “Delilah,” he says, “are you getting your sled out of the van?”

I roll my lips together and refuse to answer.

“Oh my god. You’re out here at two in the morning because you want to go sledding.”

“I checked the projections,” I defend. “By the time we wake up tomorrow, the snow will be too deep. I won’t be able to sled at all.”

He plucks the keys out of my hand. “You’re ridiculous.”

Fire lights in my belly. I snatch the keys right back. “Yeah, I’m ridiculous. Silly and absurd and a little bit stupid, too, yeah?”

Jackson rears back. “I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you were thinking it. I’m not an idiot, Jackson. I know what people think about me.” That I’m some manic pixie dream girl, hell-bent on toxic positivity and crying over cute little dogs in tiny teacups. That because I wear high-waisted hot pink snow pants, I don’t deserve to be taken seriously. “This is what I want to do. For me. The last twelve hours have been—” A shit show. Catastrophic. Completely and totally humiliating. “It’s been a lot, and I’d like to have this one thing for myself. I don’t care if you think it’s silly.” I pull my zipper all the way to the base of my throat. “I’m going to do it anyway.”

I tip my chin up and attempt to stroll confidently through the door, but Jackson hooks my elbow and tows me right back. He manhandles me until both of his hands are heavy on my shoulders, his face ducking down to mine. He tries to force eye contact, but I stare resolutely at the middle of his nose. At the two small red marks left behind from his glasses.

“I do think it’s silly,” he says quietly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it with you.”

I drag my gaze up. “Yeah?”

He nods. “Someone has to make sure you don’t sled yourself into the middle of the lake.”

“I was going to sled on the other side of the parking lot.” I sulk. “There’s a little bunny hill with two bumps at the end.”

“Have you been scouting sledding spots?”

“I brought a sled with me, Jackson.” I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s the practical thing to do.”

I get the distinct pleasure of watching his face soften, bit by bit. I might hide behind the costume other people have dressed me in, but I think Jackson wears some masks of his own.