Page 24 of Perfectly Complicated
“Then you’ll have to admit that you’re wrong about Christmas.” I lean closer, close enough to see the dark blue outline of her irises. “And about me.”
Her eyelashes flutter. “What do you mean…about you?”
“That maybe I’m not the problem here.”
For a moment, we just stare at each other across the car, and I can feel the weight of everything we’re not saying. That Christmas isn’t the problem.Weare.
She doesn’t answer, just gets out of the car, and I follow, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. The tension between us is so taut, it feels like the moment right before a rubber band snaps.
“Come on, Riley,” she says, linking her arm through mine before I can protest. “Time for your Christmas education to begin.”
As we head toward the festival entrance, a sign catches my attention, and my blood runs cold: “Welcome to Santaville’s Christmas Festival. Today is our annual Couples’ Day.”
“Couples’ Day?” I stop walking so abruptly that Janie stumbles. “This is a joke, right?”
“What’s wrong?” she asks, following my gaze to the sign.
“Did you know about this?” I ask, pointing at the sign.
Her face flushes. “Uh…I may have forgotten to mention that detail.”
“Forgotten?” I say, my voice going up a notch. “Or conveniently omitted?”
“Does it matter?” She shrugs. “We’re not a couple—we’re just here for research. What’s wrong with an adults-only day?”
But as we enter the festival, I see couples everywhere—holding hands, skating in pairs on the ice rink, kissing under the mistletoe for pictures. Suddenly, I realize this day just got a lot more complicated.
“This isn’t just for adults, Janie. It’s for couples.”
Because spending the day arguing with Janie about Christmas is one thing.
Pretending to be her boyfriend while doing it?
Yeah,I’m doomed.
EIGHT
Rourke
Nothing could have prepared me for the Santaville Christmas Festival. The entire Main Street has been changed into an over-the-top winter wonderland of meticulously timed lights that sync with the Christmas carols playing on repeat. The massive Christmas tree is covered in so many ornaments I’m surprised it hasn’t collapsed under the weight. Everywhere I look, adults are dressed like they raided an elf’s closet for an ugly-Christmas-sweater party—garish red and green knits and jingle bells sewn onto various parts of hideous Christmas scenes. A grown man in full elf costume—complete with pointy ears—walks past us, followed by a woman whose sweater lights up and plays “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.” Even the trash cans have been wrapped to look like presents.
“It’s like Christmas threw up.” I stare in horrified wonder at the Christmas town in front of me. “And then did it again for good measure.”
She gapes at me. “Can youtrynot to use such vivid metaphors? Some of us actually like to eat here.”
We pass a couple wearing matching light-up reindeer antlers, and I shudder visibly.
“How about hot chocolate?” she asks. Before I can answer,she steers me toward a booth labeled “Santa’s Artisanal Cocoa Experience.”
I snort. “Artisanal Cocoa Experience? What happened to just calling it hot chocolate?”
Janie steps up to the counter, ignoring my snarky remark. “We want two of Santa’s peppermint chocolate specials, please,” she says to a woman dressed like Mrs. Claus.
“That’ll be twenty-five dollars,” Mrs. Claus says.
I stare at the woman behind the counter. “Twenty-five dollars? For two cups of hot liquid with cocoa powder? Are they importing the peppermint from Narnia?”
Janie gives Mrs. Claus a pained smile. “Please excuse my friend here. He’s not usually this charming. I promise the drink will improve his personality.” She steps hard on my foot. “Or at least warm up his ice-cold heart.”
