Page 43
“Sleepytime tea!” Nick hollered back.
“I don’t know if anyone has ever been that pumped for Sleepytime tea in the history of humankind,” Annie said to the room, moving back toward the bed and trying to find a comfortable place to sit that didn’t make her think of other activities they could get up to instead.
“I also found ice cream!” Nick grinned, slightly out of breath, reentering the room.
“Oh, way to bury the lede!” Annie exclaimed.
“It’s vanilla,” Nick told her. Annie took a pillow and screamed into it. “But I did find some semi-sweet morsels in the baking cabinet. I guess my family now has a baking cabinet.”
Annie stared up at him. “I love you!” she gushed, looking over the tray.
“I know you’re talking to the chocolate, but you’re welcome,” Nick told her. Annie grabbed the bag and pulled out a handful of chocolate chips, dumping them in her mouth.
“Chocolate anything is the answer to everything!” Annie said with her mouth full. “Well, chocolate you can chew, I mean.”
“Scoot over so I can introduce you to a magical place called St. Louis,” Nick implored, and Annie quickly settled back, holding a pillow in her lap and permitting a content sigh to escape. She didn’t even think about missing her regular evening lineup of Bravo and booze as she took the bag of chocolate chips and dumped more into her open mouth.
She had a snack, a movie, and absolute control over her raging holiday hormones … sort of.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
An hour and fifty-three minutes later, Annie was bawling, tears falling down her face, leaving wet imprints on the embroidered snowflake-designed pillow in her lap.
“Okay, wow, you’re still crying, huh?” Nick asked, awkwardly handing her another tissue. “But this movie has a happy ending. Apparently, in real life, the family did actually move to New York.”
“I don’t want to know that!” Annie yelled, throwing another decorative pillow in Nick’s general direction.
“Good movie, right?” Nick asked when he was safely out of Annie’s direct aim.
“It was amaziiing,” Annie languished, using her palms to trap the last of her tears. But then she paused in thought and turned to Nick. “Why do you think we were allowed to watch it? Nothing here works the way it should; we can’t access TV or the internet or use our phones … It’s not even an exclusively Christmasy movie … but there has to be some reason we could watch it here, right?” Annie asked Nick. His face clouded in contemplation.
“Maybe.” Nick nodded after a moment. “Well, let’s see. It’s also set in a smallish town community, and made-for-TV Christmas movies usually place a lot of value in strong family relationships, so there could be some insight there? Both also have romantic storylines occurring within the hometowns, and both have a Christmas ball? Could that be something?” Nick shrugged.
“Could be. It feels like there should be more than that, though,” Annie considered.
“Let’s consider the structure of the movies’ happy endings,” Nick started, and Annie turned to fully take in his words. “Okay, one possible common denominator with Meet Me in St. Louis and your traditional made-for-TV Christmas movie is that the path to a happy ending opens up once the characters embrace their true, deep-down, honest feelings.”
The words “happy ending” and “honest” made Annie’s body break out into goosebumps, plucking on some sort of emotional string. She shivered and stood up, rubbing her arms and pacing the space, needing to move some of the restless energy swirling inside her. Annie noticed a stack of high school yearbooks on a bedside table and moved closer to examine them.
“The yearbooks?” Nick asked, reading her thoughts. “Yeah, they were stacked like that when we arrived here.”
“Yeah, it’s funny, I have a similar stack in my room too,” Annie said, taking a closer look at the yearbook on top of the stack. “Can I see what I wrote in your freshman yearbook? I signed it, right?” Annie asked.
“Um, yeah, you did …” Nick said, and Annie caught his eye. “You’re on the last page crammed in the right corner,” Nick said.
“Nick, how on earth do you remember that?” Annie laughed. She picked up the hefty tome, flipping through the glossy pages. Annie saw handwritten notes in all different colors decorating the inside. A long passage in purple script handwriting, enclosed in its own giant heart made her stop. She skimmed to the signature and rolled her eyes when Bailey’s big, bold “B” came into view. Annie quickly turned to the back of the book. Before she could find her inscription, a small piece of greenery tied with a red ribbon slipped loose onto the carpet. Nick’s eyes grew into saucers, and he made a dive to catch it. “What is this?” Annie asked, grabbing the item first. She held it carefully in her palm, looking at it before she realized what she was holding. “Is this mistletoe?” Annie asked, knowing already that it must be, but she looked at Nick, who had gone crimson and seized with embarrassment.
“Um, yeah, it’s mistletoe, I forgot I kept it,” Nick muttered, offering his hand and hoping that Annie would give it back. But Annie held on to it a moment longer.
“Is this the mistletoe of our, um, moment?” Annie asked him, her own face flushing with color. Nick nodded slowly.
“It’s nothing,” Nick said, clearing his throat and gathering the courage he didn’t quite seem to feel. “I was fourteen and very sentimental.” Nick used his thumb and forefinger to pluck the mistletoe from Annie and put it on his dresser behind a seasonal candle, momentarily out of sight.
“Oh my. That’s …” Annie started, unsure how to put words to her feelings. “Well, it’s really sweet. If I had known any boy would be sentimental over something I had been a part of …” Annie swallowed, shaking her head and trailing off. “It’s really sweet,” Annie repeated, and Nick shrugged, clearly wanting the moment to pass without further acknowledgment of the kid he was in high school. Annie found her inscription and read it aloud.
“ ‘Only three more years to go and then you’re out of here. LYLAB (Love you like a brother!) TTFN! ♥ Annie.’ Oh, yikes, that’s so bad, Nick. You should have taken some Wite-Out to that,” Annie said, shaking her head. “Ha, remember when Marsha and I dared you to let us paint your nails with Wite-Out?”
“Um, yeah, you guys were ruthless,” Nick said. “That Wite-Out nail thing was one of your nicer schemes.”
