Page 86 of Kiss the Girl
“Tabitha. She’s going to work in the booth as our special celebrity chef.”
She clapped her hands, her eyes shining. “That’s so perfect! When does she get here?”
And just like that, we moved on from the topic of Noah.
ButIcouldn’t move on that easily from Noah. And it sucked.
I tried to snap myself out of my mood when I walked into the store, but it followed me like a sad puppy. Luckily, my dad was so preoccupied explaining our entire garden center philosophy to Paige that neither of them noticed my moping.
Maybe I would have done okay if I could have avoided Noah the whole week, but we kept having to text about the booth to make sure everything was on track. The parade would be Friday night, starting at the Episcopal church and heading down Main Street to end at the town square. Everyone spent Friday afternoon assembling their booths. We all knew what the other vendors were selling, but people kept their themes a secret. We wouldn’t remove our makeshift screens and drapes until full dusk when the parade began.
Santa’s sleigh would be the last float. When he reached the square, he’d climb down and announce, “Madam Mayor, Christmas Town is back!” Then the mayor would flip a switch to turn on all the streetlamps and floodlights while everyone—including the vendors—oohed and aahed at everyone else’s booths, awash in warm light and holiday magic.
Christmas Town would go for three hours on Friday night, then from noon until nine the next day. Then Christmas Town went away for another year.
Texts flew all week, with Noah about booth details, with Tabitha about the food. But only one of their names made my heart race every time it appeared in my phone.
I was a grown woman, and I was completely ridiculous.
By Wednesday, as an act of self-preservation and an expensive reminder to get my mind right, I called my old apartment complex in Charleston and rented a unit from them, paying my security deposit and one month’s rent. I’d wanted to give myself some time to upgrade to a townhome, and I was going to crash with a friend for a week or two until I found exactly what I wanted. But what I needed more than anything right now was a concrete reminder that I was leaving after New Year’s.
Friday afternoon, I left work early. Dad always kept the store open for people who had last minute hardware emergencies with their booths, but he shooed me out.
“Go help your fella,” he said. “I already sent Paige home so she could get Evie from daycare, and then they can come back to catch the parade.”
“He’s not my fella.”
“Oh, right. I meant yourfriend.” He rolled his eyes. “Dating ain’t what it used to be.”
“We’re not dating. Not for real.” He gave me a long look but said nothing. I sighed. “See you later, Dad.”
He’d walk over after closing time, prepared to run back and open up for anyone who had a booth hardware emergency but otherwise ready to enjoy Christmas Town with the rest of Creekville.
I ran home and changed out of my work uniform, wanting to look cute but refusing to acknowledge that it was for Noah’s benefit. I pulled on a pair of black jeans and boots, a cream sweater, and some festive red lipstick I swiped from my mom’s bathroom.
When Noah knocked on my door exactly fifteen minutes after school let out, I opened it with a flutter in my stomach. No matter how complicated and strange things had gotten, it still made me smile to see him.
“Hey,” he said, and he looked uncertain, like he wasn’t sure what his welcome would be.
“Hey.” I reached up and hugged him. There weren’t a lot of these left. I wanted to enjoy all of them. He hesitated then wrapped his arms around me and hugged me back tightly. “Ready for today?”
He shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be. The team moms have been fine-tuning the hand pies, and I think they’re turning out pretty good now. The team is down there loading up the trucks.”
“Let’s go, then.” I grabbed my coat from beside the door. Virginia had temperate winters, up around fifty during the day, but it could drop below freezing when the sun set. I grabbed a knit hat, scarf, and mittens to boot.
Noah led the way down the stairs, and I scowled at the jacket he was wearing because it covered the butt of his jeans. I knew those jeans. He looked good in those jeans.
We supervised the rest of the loading for the booth and added canvas drop cloths on loan from my dad to keep the booth hidden until nightfall. The town square was already bustling with activity when we arrived, and Taylor Bixby, wearing a bright orange snow beanie, stood in the middle of it all, directing people everywhere, looking stressed.
“I’m glad you didn’t fight her for the donuts,” I told Noah with a nod in Taylor’s direction.
“No kidding,” he said. “Plan B worked out better anyway.”
The football team had signed up for different shifts, and we worked with the six boys who’d volunteered for assembly to get the drop cloths strung up first so no one could sneak a peek at our booth. Then they got the booth itself set up. The practice the previous weekend had helped. They had it up and ready to go within the hour.
It had seemed plenty big when we were designing it to accommodate supplies and workers, but somehow, with Noah and I trying to avoid each other in the space, it shrunk. We kept bumping into each other or brushing past each other to get to where we were needed. Everyone had taken off their coats, plenty warm from all the grunt work, but even through my thick sweater, every time Noah and I made contact, it sent my temperature up another degree.
What I really wanted to do was shove everyone out, sweep everything off a folding table, and throw him down on it to recreate our post-Thanksgiving makeout.
