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But either Carson didn’t notice, or he wasn’t interested because his eyes never left me as he reached out and snatched my cup from my grasp, then took a sip.
“Hey!” I shouted and reached for it. “Now it’s got your germs on it.” My lip curled in disgust as he handed it back to me and winked.
I ignored the flush of heat in my cheeks as I took the sleeve of my sweater and exaggeratedly wiped the lid of my cup off as I shot daggers at him with my eyes. Unfazed, he pointed to it and said, “I’ll take whatever that is.”
“It’s a gingerbread latte,” I muttered.
“Whatever.”
While Maddie got to work on his drink, I felt her eyes on us, so I shifted further away from the counter, shrinking under her gaze. “Did you get the tree from school on Friday?” I asked him.
“Yup.”
“Great. I brought the snowflakes to write on and the permanent markers.”
Carson nodded, but he didn’t seem all that interested. His eyes scanned my face, lingering on the area around my eye, the one he whacked with the ball. The purple had turned to a mottled yellow-brown color in the last day. It wasn’t exactly attractive, but it was fading at least. Plus, the swelling was gone. My fear of living the rest of my days as a cyclops had abated.
He reached out and gently brushed the bruised skin with a finger, his touch featherlight, turning my stomach into knots. “Your eye’s a little better.”
My skin burned in the wake of his fingertips. “Um, yeah. It’s getting there.”
He swallowed, then he ruffled his dark hair with his hands before forcefully shoving them into his pockets. Was it me or did he seem. . .nervous?
When Maddie called his name, I tore my gaze from his as she slid his coffee across the counter toward him, a smug grin curling the corners of her lips. He took it hastily, fidgeting with the plastic lid, and the moment his back was turned to Maddie again, she mouthed He likes you.
What? No, I mouthed back, then rolled my eyes because, sure, he does. Carson Brooks and I were the human equivalents of oil and water. He liked me about as much as an older brother cherished his annoying kid-sister.
But she simply widened her eyes in response to my eye roll as if I was crazy. After, she waved us away, and I awkwardly took that as my cue and pulled Carson along. “Why don’t you go get the tree, and then we’ll get started,” I said.
Fifteen minutes later, the artificial pine was up in the corner of the coffee shop, away from the front door but visible to anyone coming and going. Carson and I sat across from each other at one of The Bean’s little bistro tables, our lattes all but gone, the remaining supplies splayed out in front of us.
“Here are the requests,” I said, handing him his half of the spreadsheet. “They have names on them and the gift to be purchased. We have to write them both on the snowflakes. These are for the gifts for the children’s hospital and the Sweet Water nursing home. The other stuff we have to do is for the Sweet Water Christmas Angel Program where they adopt a handful of families, so that’s separate.”
“So community members buy the items on the snowflakes, and we seek out donors for the adopted families and make those purchases. Am I right?” Carson asked.
He was taking this seriously, which surprised me. “Exactly. Plus, we buy and organize the holiday food baskets for them, too, and purchase any items that go unclaimed on the tree. So, really, it’s kind of two programs we’re working on, not one.”
“And Mrs. Parks thought she’d pawn it all off on us. Nice.”
I laughed. “Exactly.”
“I guess we had it coming though.” He smiled, and I wondered if he recalled the moment I stormed across the gym and tried to throttle him or the one where he whacked me in the face with the basketball.
I cocked my head. “So you admit you hit me intentionally?”
“Intentionally is a strong word. Maybe I sort of aimed it your way. You were talking to Harper, and you looked all doom and gloom. What was that about, anyway?”
“Oh, so you thought, Mia looks sad. Let’s hit her in the face with a ball?” I said, ignoring his question. “Wow. That’s some interesting problem-solving skills you got there. Way to make a girl feel better about herself by giving her a black eye. Now I see why you’re single.”
“Ouch. That might hurt if you weren’t single, too.”
Gee, thanks for pointing out the obvious. I screwed up my face, and he laughed. “I just meant to hit you—I don’t know—in the back or the side or something, but you guys stopped walking the moment I threw it. Plus, you bruise easily. How was I supposed to know?” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I just thought that if I could make you angry, then you wouldn’t be sad or upset or whatever.”
I swallowed. Why did that sound kind of sweet? Carson was never sweet. At least not to me.
I opened my mouth to respond when the door chimed and the unmistakable high-pitched voice of Olivia called out, “Hey, Carson.”
Ugh.
