Page 28 of Back to December
“I won’t tell.” She smiles. “I love all your tasty treats, but your gingerdoodles aremyfavorite.”
“Then I’ll make you a whole pan,” I murmur.
The first time I kissed Laila was in the middle of the Jacksons’ corn maze. I doubt it was anything impressive, considering our ages, but I’ve never forgotten the way she looked in the setting sun, the golden light framing her head like she was an angel or something.
I’d never seen anything so beautiful.
And I wanted to kiss her.
I still think about that kiss, and how two fumbling teenagers grew up to still reach for each other as adults. She’s as beautiful as she was then, even pressed against a doorway with messy strands of blonde hair framing her face. Her eyes have gained a little spark in them, like she knows what I’m thinking.
It surprises me a little when she grips my shirt and tugs me down to her. More still when a hum of appreciation sounds in her throat as our lips meet. I shift a little closer to her and wince when her iPad digs into my rib. With a gentle tug, I pull it out of her hand and blindly feel for the rack I know is behind me.
Once it’s set down, and I can close the distance, Laila fully relaxes into me.
Her fingers graze my jaw, across the tender skin below my ear.
And she whispers, “I’ve missed you,” against my lips.
“I always miss you,” I say, wishing with my entire heart that moments like this could be our forever.
Something is shifting here, and it’s going to be hard to let her lead the way when I can see the whole path ahead. Iwant to charge ahead and race right for the life I know we could have together. But that’s fear talking, the kind that mistakes waiting for weakness. Love, I think, is patience dressed up as faith.
I don’t want to scare her away. So for now, I’ll let her set the pace, and quietly believe we’re finally heading somewhere real.
ten
LAILA
“I havea bone to pick with you,” Ella says.
I freeze, unsure of how to proceed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Bridget flew in this morning, and we’re taking advantage of some much-needed sister time. Especially after Ella’s close call with chilly weather and the fountain yesterday.
She’s perched cross-legged on the bed, still wearing the enormous homecoming mum Luke gave her last week. It jingles every time she moves, like Christmas came early.
“He said it’s bad luck to take it off before Thanksgiving,” she tells us with a straight face.
Bridget snorts. “You didn’t wear it to the princess breakfast, too, did you?”
“Of course not,” Ella says, utterly unbothered. Then she flashes a wide grin. “But Ididwear the tiara.”
“As you should’ve,” I tell her.
Bridget groans. “You’re hopeless.”
Ella smiles even bigger, her ribbons swaying as the bellsjingle. “Hopelessly happy, maybe. Luke started a tradition, and I’m not about to break it.”
For all her teasing, I love seeing her this way. She’s lighter, happier, and if that means she’s walking around in a Homecoming mum in her room, so be it.
I promised I’d leave the fountain incident alone, even though I’m going a little crazy trying to figure out why it happened. But I suppose I’ll trust that she’ll eventually tell me the truth. The Jacksons will take care of her until then.
Right now, though, I’d be alright with something strange and magical happening to me, too. Maybe a trail of breadcrumbs leading somewhere that makes sense for once. I keep following crumbs that just circle back to the same questions. I don’t love the idea of threatened hypothermia, though, so my “magic” can be something less… life threatening.
The mattress shifts under Ella’s weight as she turns her whole body to face me, her eyes boring holes into my profile.
Oh no.
