Page 71 of Saved By Noel
I stare at her.
“What? Take it as a compliment! We all want you around more. And we all want Clark to be happy. We can put two and two together,” Becky reasons.
I sigh. “Well, maybe you all can put two and two together, but I’m not sure Clark wants to. I’m not sure what page he’s on, or what book he’s even in.” Becky skewers me with a look. “All I’m saying is I don’t know what we are. Or what we’ll ever be. I just don’t know.”
Crumpling my sandwich wrapper, I hope that’s a sufficient signal to end this line of questioning. Becky catches my drift and leads the way to take over making drinks while Syd mans the register.
The Saturday evening show by the dance team and carolers starts in ten minutes, so the coffee line is slowing down as people crowd around the pavilion. I need a moment to clear my head after my brief chat with Becky. I meander away from the crowds.
Are Becky and Sydney right? Are Clark and I a good match for each other? I still can’t figure out if he sees things the same way or not. His messy Magic Eye picture projects a solid “no” at first glance. But the glimpses I’ve seen of the image underneath seem like maybe he does want something more with me.
Is he scared of getting close to someone, like Mom and Mads said? Or is it more than that? Is he afraid of things not working out because we’d be long distance, at least at first? Is he just uncertain of how I feel?
What do I do?
I try to sort through all the rapid-fire questions barraging through my mind. The music from the dance show starts playing in the background, cheers from the spectators mixed in. I should make my way back to the pavilion to watch, but I’m too confused to be surrounded by crowds.
Instead, I turn down a small alley lit by overhead white Christmas lights that I haven’t noticed before. I do a double take when I see sprigs of mistletoe hanging from the strands of lights. There’s a sign at the entrance of the alley that readsMistletoe Lane.
Ha! So Clark caved. Syd must have convinced him to include this. Or did it behind his back. But even if she set it up without his knowledge, he didn’t tear it down. The thought makes me smile—maybe he’s not as unwilling to change his mind as he tries to project.
Maybe he just needs a chance to make up his mind about us? Maybe I need to give him a straightforward opportunity to say yes or no.
I swivel to leave the alley but bump right into a solid, human-shaped wall. My hands instinctively come up to steady myself, landing smack dab on Clark’s firm chest. The flashback to the first time we met in my bathroom is inevitable.
The positive memories of Clark that first weekend come flooding back. His witty comments through the door, his respectful approach to helping me, the options he brought the next day to give me a choice in fixing the door. The way he took my Tineke, no questions asked—and then researched the heck out of plant care to make sure she thrived.
This is the same man who repeatedly—and harshly—shot down my suggestions as Mayor Noel. Who ruthlessly crumpled my list of ideas. But this manalsopulled the crumpled list out of the trash and held on to it for months.
This man took down my Christmas lights to keep me safe and brought a rocking chair so I’d have somewhere to sit on my porch. He opened up to me about the pain in his life, and he challenged me to overcome the pain in mine to chasemydreams.
To top it all off, we’re standing in the middle of the very festival I’d dreamed of and pushed for. Because he loves this town, yes—but, I think, maybe because he also feels something for me?
I have to know. One way or the other, I have to know.
“Sorry, Clark, I didn’t mean to run into you,” I apologize as I take a small step backward. It’s a mild evening, so Clark doesn’t have on his fleece jacket tonight. Just a long-sleeve, navy Henley shirt, clinging to the muscles of his biceps as he fidgets with his hands. He finally puts them in his pockets before acknowledging my apology.
“It’s fine. I was just escaping the crowd for a minute. I took Chase and Pops home and knew I should come back. But my social capacity is shot,” Clark says, then abruptly cuts himself off. Maybe he didn’t mean to admit that, but anyone who knows him the slightest bit would know it’s true.
“Yeah, you might need to hide in a cave for a couple of weeks after this is all over,” I joke. “I know this has been your worst nightmare, but I’m really grateful you made it happen.”
He shrugs, not saying anything else. But the spark in his eyes as he holds my gaze has my insides melting and my courage fortifying.
“Clark, I need to say something to you,” I begin. “It’s not a secret that I’ve struggled to understand you over the past year. We’ve had rocky moments—”
Clark interrupts. “You know I’m sorry about that, Clara. I’ve tried to keep better control over my reactions.”
I place a hand on his forearm, where the sleeve of his Henley is hiding the reminders inked onto his skin. “I know you have, and I’ve already forgiven you for that.AndIacknowledge my role in being too pushy. What I was going to say is that we’ve had rocky moments,butwe’ve also had some really . . . magical moments.”
Pausing, my eyes bounce back and forth between his, watching for signs of what he’s thinking. He must be a phenomenal poker player. I’m getting zero clues as to what’s happening in that brain of his.
I continue anyway. “Even as a friend, you’ve pushed me to grow in ways that no one else has before. I’d like to think that I’ve maybe played the tiniest role in helping you grow a little bit too. I guess I’m saying that I think that we could be . . . Well, maybe we could be better as Clark-and-Clara than we are as Clark”—I gesture toward him and pause to punctuate my statement. Then I gesture to myself separately—“and Clara.”
He doesn’t respond verbally, but his eyes are still locked on mine. The gold flecks of his irises draw me in. “I just want you to know that Iwantthat. I want to find out if we’re better together.”
Before I can talk myself out of it, I lean onto my tiptoes and wrap an arm around Clark’s neck, gently pressing my lips to his. His beard is softer than I imagined it would be, tickling my chin in a way I could easily become addicted to. My lips have found their missing puzzle piece locked with his.
My heart sings for the two seconds it takes me to realize he’s not kissing me back.
