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“You didn’t even want to go to temple with me,” I say.
Her eyes cut to mine. “Not going to temple doesn’t make me less Jewish. It doesn’t mean I can’t be offended by the assumption that because I live in America, of course I celebrate Christmas.”
My stomach rolls over, and I stare down into my cup so I don’t have to make eye contact with either of them. Sophie’s never combative like this, and I’m not sure if it’s because Chase struck a nerve or because this whole situation is new for us. I’m certain Chase didn’t mean to offend her, but I also can’t imagine how she feels this time of year. She’s always talked about how even in liberal Seattle, everything is Christmas this time of year. While I’ve never minded it, part of me wonders if the proliferation of it subconsciously worked to make me forget about my Jewish side, to erase it. Until recently, at least.
“I’m so sorry,” Chase says again, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I seriously didn’t mean to assume.”
“It’s fine,” she says with a wave of her hand.
“I guess this is why everyone says you shouldn’t discuss religion,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. All I get are two tight-lipped smiles and more silent sipping.
“I should probably head home soon.” Sophie checks the time on her phone. “I have dance team practice later.” She swipes over to the bus app and sighs. “The next one isn’t for forty-five minutes.”
“I could give you a ride,” Chase offers, his expression soft, as though he’s trying to smooth things over with her.
“Are you sure? We’re going to the same place, so I guess that would make it easier for you.” Sophie softens, as though accepting Chase’s olive branch. “Thanks. Peter, is that okay with you?”
I pick up my empty coffee cup and nod. Sophie and Chase’s first meeting was bound to be awkward. At least it wasn’t a disaster.
In the parking lot, the three of us stand in front of Chase’s car for a few moments.
“I’ll ride in back with you,” I say to Sophie.
“No, no, that’s ridiculous,” she says. “You both sit in the front. I don’t want Chase to feel like he’s chauffeuring us around.”
“I don’t mind!” he chirps as he unlocks it, sliding into the driver’s seat.
I make a move to open the back door, but Sophie puts her hand over mine. “Peter. Seriously. Go up front.”
“Or you could go up front.”
She groans. “Oh my God, just go.”
Fortunately, the car ride proves much less uncomfortable than skating or drinking coffee. As soon as Chase starts the car, an electronica song I’ve never heard starts playing, but Sophie yelps from the back, “I love this song,” and Chase turns it up and they both belt out the lyrics. The entire exchange shocks me—Sophie’s not the kind of person to sing in front of a stranger, much less with a stranger. But when I peer back at her, she’s grinning.
The conversation flows a little easier after that. Chase apologizes once again about the Christmas faux pas, and Sophie wishes him a very happy Hanukkah.
When he pulls to a stop in our neighborhood, Sophie pops off her seat belt.
“Are you coming?” she asks me.
I glance over at Chase. “I, um, I think Chase and I might keep hanging out.”
He nods.
“Oh.” She fiddles with the strap of her bag. “Sure. Okay. That makes sense.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, though? First night of Hanukkah at your house?”
“Right. Yes.” She takes a moment, seems to collect herself. “Have a great time!” she says, much too enthusiastically. “I mean—not too great a time. Like, an average time. But still good?” Her face is red now. “Just . . . have fun.”
“We’ll try,” I tell her. I’m not sure why it feels like the wrong answer.
I watch her in the rearview mirror until she becomes a best-friend-shaped dot, then disappears.
CHAPTER 25
SOPHIE
