Page 21 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
“Yeah,” he admits, shrugging as he pulls on a T-shirt. “But I like the cold…for a little while, anyway. And the seasons here are the best part. Where else can you have all four seasons in one day? Makes going home even better.”
I hum, but don’t say the thing that catches in my throat, how home doesn’t sound the same for me.
Eli slings his bag over his shoulder but doesn’t head for the door just yet. “What about you?” he asks, pausing mid-step. “Where’s home for you, Calder?”
“North Dakota,” I say after a beat.
His brows lift. “So…even colder than here.”
“Yeah.” My mouth curves, but it’s not quite a smile. “Lot less to do, too.”
He studies me for a second longer, as though he’s weighing whether to push, then just nods. “Guess that explains why you’d rather stay here for the break.”
I grunt something noncommittal, but the way he’s still looking at me makes it feel like he’s not just talking about the weather.
Eli’s mouth tips into that easy grin again, but there’s something softer under it this time.
“Well…have a nice break, Calder.”
“You too, Starling,” I say, keeping my tone even, but my eyes follow him all the way to the door.
That afternoon,the campus feels hollow. The parking lots are over half-empty, the dorm windows dark. Everyone’s cleared out ahead of the storm, and even the wind sounds softer under the weight of the snow just starting to fall.
I pull my jacket tighter as I cut across to the coffee shop in town, boots crunching over the thin layer of powder. The place is warm when I step inside, humming with low music and the hiss of steaming milk.
I get in line, already tasting the bitter bite of my usual black coffee, until the smell hits me. Peppermint. Sweet, sharp, curling through the air from the cup in the hands of the girl ahead of me.
Eli.
The thought of him is instant, automatic, as if my brain can’t help itself. I picture him with that drink in hand, grinning over the rim, probably humming Christmas music under his breath like he was at practice this morning.
When it’s my turn, I open my mouth to order the black coffee. Instead?—
“Peppermint latte,” I hear myself say.
The barista nods, scribbles it down. I tell myself it’s just because I want to try something different. But when they set the cup in front of me, the swirl of whipped cream and peppermint on top hits exactly like I knew it would, like him. Like a small hit of sunshine when the world has gone dark.
I thank the barista and step back out into the cold, the bell above the door giving a soft jingle behind me. The snow’s coming down in slow, lazy flakes now, settling on my hair and the shoulders of my coat.
I take a sip, and it’s like drinking liquid sugar—way too sweet, the peppermint sharp on my tongue—but the smile still finds its way onto my face.
The street is quiet except for the muffled crunch of my boots. Every exhale fogs the air, and for a second, I let myself imagine handing this to him instead. Watching the way his eyes would light up, hearing the way his laugh would break through the cold.
I shake the thought off and keep walking, the heat of the cup seeping through my gloves. It’s stupid. It’s just a drink.
But the damn thing still tastes like him.
The snow’s sticking now, dusting the sidewalks and blanketing the empty quad in white. I’m halfway to my building when movement catches my eye; Eli, climbing out of an Uber at the curb, his duffel slung over one shoulder.
From here, even under his knit beanie, I can see it, the way his shoulders slope, the easy grin gone. He looks…tired. Sad, maybe.
Before I can think better of it, I call out, “Starling!”
His head snaps up, and for a second, there’s surprise in his face before it smooths out into something more neutral. His normal sunshine is missing. Concern threads through me.
“What are you doing back?” I close the distance in a few long strides, cup still warm in my hand. “Thought you were halfway to the sun by now.”
He lets out a breath that curls white in the air. “Yeah, well. Flights are all grounded until the storm clears. Guess Michigan wanted me all to itself a little longer.”
