9781250209153

“Enjoy your romantic winter wonderland!” Dad says, but I’m already
tugging Irene’s hand and leading her away.
“Sorry about them,” I mutter.
“I love them,” she says easily.
Somehow we’re still holding hands. I drop hers and clear my throat. We
tuck ourselves into her car, where she blasts the heat and turns on my seat
warmer. It feels familiar and new at the same time.
“I didn’t know you were Catholic,” I say as we pull out of the church
parking lot.
“I didn’t know you were, either.”
“Both sides of the family. Irish and Polish.”
“Both sides for me, too. My grandparents are from Kerala.”
“Cool,” I say, though I have no idea what that means.
She smirks because she knows it. “How’s that AP European History
working out for you?”
“Shut up. I’ll do some Googling later.”
At Sweet Noelle’s, she swings around the drive-through and orders two
hot chocolates with whipped cream.
“I can pay for mine—” I say.
“Don’t start,” she says, pulling out her wallet. Her voice is almost
tender, but she clears her throat and corrects it. “I have extra cash right now.
Some nerd is paying me to date her.”
“Ha, ha.” I can’t say anything else because she’s catching my eye with a
smirk that can only be described as flirtatious, and I feel like my stomach is
full of sunbeams.
“Do you know the best street for Christmas lights?” Irene asks. She’s
driving with one hand, sipping from her hot chocolate with the other. Her
nails are painted a perfect Santa Claus red. I wonder what would happen if I
reached across the console and took her hand again.
“I do not,” I say, trying to stay cool.
“Well, lucky for you, I do.”
We end up on the other side of town, close to the square. Irene winds the
car down one street, then another, in complete control of where we’re
going. I picture her family driving out here every year to see the lights. Is it