Dodging through the crowds, I headed for the high-end department store in the west wing of the mall. Allie had a part-time job there wrapping gifts for the holiday season. It paid better than being one of Santa’s elves, as she’d done the previous year, and involved far fewer sticky little-kid hands and runny noses wiped on your shirt. Aside from those dubious advantages, it didn’t look like much more fun to me.
“Lexi!” Allie looked up from wrapping a decorative candle for a bored-looking preteen boy and his father. Her dark hair was flopping in her face, totally uncontained by her perky candy-cane-striped headband, and her expression was frazzled. “Hi! What are you doing here?”
“Sorry to bother you at work. I was hoping to talk to you about something. But it looks like you’re kind of busy, so . . .”
“Hold that thought.” Allie finished her wrapping job with expert speed, handed the package to the boy, then checked her watch. “Hey, Rhonda!” she called to the stout gray-haired woman at the next table, “I’m going on break, okay?”
“You betcha.” The woman barely glanced up from the picture frame she was encasing in sparkly silver paper. “But be back by the lunch rush, all right, hon?”
We hurried away from the gift wrap area. “So what do you want to talk about?” Allie asked curiously.
“I’ll tell you in a second,” I replied. “Want to go sit down? I’ll buy you a coffee.”
“Okay. I could use the caffeine.” Allie fiddled with her hair while we walked, trying to get her headband to hold it back out of her face.
It was still early, and the food court was relatively quiet. It only took a few minutes to get our coffees from the doughnut stand. Black with one sugar for me, and cream and three sugars for Allie. We found an empty table and sat down.
“I went to the North Pole with Bruce last night,” I began.
“Oh, right.” Allie wrinkled her nose. “How was it? Did he sprout eight extra hands as soon as the lights went down?”
“Well, sort of. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” I took a deep breath, wrapping my hands around my steaming coffee cup. “I ran into Cam there. With Jaylene.”
“Oh, Lexi!” Allie exclaimed sympathetically. “Sorry. Was it totally weird?”
“Yeah. Weirder than I expected.” I hesitated, not sure how to say what I wanted to say next. “You know, all this time I’ve been really sure I was doing the right thing. But last night, just for a second, well . . .”
Allie didn’t even wait for me to finish. “So you’re having second thoughts about this crazy breaking-up-with-Cam plan?” she exclaimed, bouncing in her seat so vigorously that she almost tipped over her coffee. “Oh my God, Lexi. I thought you’d never come to your senses!”
“Now, hold on,” I said. “I’m not saying I’ve changed my mind. Not really.”
“But you have, haven’t you?” She stopped bouncing and gripped the edge of the table, staring at me intensely. “You’ve got to do it, Lexi. Just this once, go with your heart instead of your brain. I’m sure you can still get Cam back. It’s not too late—not yet.”
She had a certain demented gleam in her eyes. I recognized that gleam. It meant she was in the midst of formulating a new theory.
“Okay, let’s hear it,” I said.
“What?”
“You know what. The theory.” I raised an eyebrow at her. “You do have a theory that applies to this situation, don’t you?”
She smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do. It’s a new one. I’m thinking about calling it the Dozen Dates Theory.” She tapped the stirrer from her coffee on the table. “See, I’ve sort of been thinking lately about how relationships get started. And how some of them last, and some don’t. And just how important those early days are to a new couple as they get to know each other and stuff.”
“Okay, Dr. Freudina,” I said. “So what does this have to do with me and Cam?”
“I’m getting there. See, the idea behind the Dozen Dates Theory is that by the time a new couple has gone out a dozen times, their relationship is pretty much set.” She shrugged. “There’s more to it than that, of course. I mean, I’m thinking this one could make a whole book if I work it out right.” She pushed her coffee aside and leaned forward. “But for your situation, Lex, the key point is this: You need to move fast.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I mean this is the grace period,” she said. “The honeymoon. You know, for Cam and his new woman. That means you still have a chance to get him back. There’s still time. But not much.” She stared at me seriously. “Because if you let Cam and Jaylene get a dozen dates under their belts, that’s it. You can kiss any hope of rekindling your own romance good-bye.”
The Dozen Dates Theory sounded just about as wacky as the rest of Allie’s long line of theories. But for once, I wasn’t in the mood to pick it apart bit by unscientific bit.
“Two dates, twelve dates—it doesn’t matter,” I told her, shoving my coffee away. “I mean, this is what I wanted—Cam happy with someone else and me free to move on into the future without worrying about him. I just had a moment of weakness, that’s all. You know, because of seeing them together like that. I’ll just have to suck it up and get used to it.”
Allie looked disappointed. “Wait, but I thought you said you weren’t sure this was the right thing anymore. You should always go with your instincts.”
“My instincts tell me to use my brain,” I said. “And my brain has been telling me for months that I have to figure out a way to solve the problem of me and Cam before it’s too late and we end up like Nick and Rachel.”
“That would never happen to you guys,” she insisted. “It only happened to them because of Rachel deciding she didn’t want to bother with a long-distance relationship.”
I stared at her, suddenly feeling as if we were speaking different languages. Specifically, I was speaking Logic and she was, as usual, fluent in Ridiculously Impractical Emotion. How many times did I have to point out the facts to her? It felt as if I were trying to convince her that two trains heading in opposite directions were totally safe, while she kept insisting hysterically that they were sure to crash into each other at any moment.
Thinking about that made me feel a little more settled. I was just going to have to get a handle on my emotions for a while—just until I got used to the new world order. Seeing Cam with Jaylene would get easier with time and exposure. It had to.
“Thanks for talking it through with me,” I told Allie, sitting back in my seat. “I think I’m back on track now. Even your Dozen Dates Theory helped.”
“Really?” She looked hopeful. “You mean it helped you see that you’ve got to get back together with Cam before it’s too late?”
I shook my head. “I mean it helped me see that I only have to wait them out for, like, nine more dates before I can stop worrying about Cam. You know, if we count that banquet and the concert as their first two dates, and then the movie as number three.”
She looked disappointed. “But—”
“So!” I interrupted brightly, deciding we could both benefit from a change of subject. “Any progress on your own love life lately? Sorry I’ve been so wrapped up in my own thing that I haven’t asked.”
“It’s okay. And not really.” She glanced at her watch. “But listen, let’s talk about that later, all right? I’d better head back now.”
I walked Allie back to work, then browsed through the department store for a few minutes looking for gift ideas for my family. But I couldn’t seem to focus on the cases and shelves full of jewelry and clothes and perfume and everything else under the sun. Finally I gave it up and headed back toward the mall.
I was still deep in thought as I stepped out of the hushed, tasteful interior of the department store back into the din of hurrying feet, screaming kids, and the Muzak version of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” It was a moment before my ears adjusted and I realized that someone was calling my name.
To my su
rprise, it was Andrew Cole. He had just stepped out of Radio Shack holding a shopping bag. His polished leather loafers squeaked on the tile floor as he hurried toward me.
“Lexi, hi,” he said, straightening the collar of his long-sleeved polo. “Doing a little shopping?”
“Something like that.” I tried to remember the last time Andrew and I had spoken to each other. Despite having been in most of the same classes for the past twelve years, we weren’t what you’d call close, except maybe in the way that the Green Bay Packers and the Chicago Bears could be considered close. To put it another way, we’d been fierce academic rivals since before either of us could spell fierce academic rivals.
“Hey, I was sorry to hear about you and Cam splitting up,” Andrew said. “Uh, but I heard you’re already dating again.”
Oh, great. So Bruce was already bragging about that. I wondered what exactly he’d been telling people. Then again, knowing Bruce, I probably didn’t want to know.
“Yeah, sort of, I guess,” I said, drifting into a private little fantasy of shoving Bruce’s wandering hands up his own butt.
“Great. Then how about we go out sometime?”
That snapped me back to reality. “What?” I blurted out. “Uh, we? You mean you and me? Going out on a date?”
“Sure, why not?” Andrew shrugged. His lower lip was twitching slightly. “Hope it’s not too soon. I just don’t want to miss my chance again.”
“Again?”
He winced, looking as if he wished he could take it back. “Well, yeah,” he admitted. “I thought about asking you out once before. Back in eighth grade. I wanted to ask you to the Christmas Ball, but you and Cam got together before I could.”
Wow. That was so out of the blue I didn’t know what to say for a second.
“Um, okay,” I said at last. “Sure. That would be . . . nice.”
“Great! Are you free tonight? How about dinner at Manfredi’s?” Weirdly, he had that same triumphant gleam in his eye that he got on the rare occasion he received a higher grade than me on a test. I could only imagine what kind of theory Allie would come up with to explain that.
“Sounds good,” I said, trying to sound normal. “I love that place.”
“Fantastic. I’ll pick you up at six.”
You could call it bad luck. You could call it a statistical improbability. Or you could just call it what it was—life in a small town. Whatever the terminology, I could hardly believe my eyes when Andrew and I walked into Manfredi’s that evening and I saw Cam and Jaylene sitting at one of the tables for two along the cozy little restaurant’s back wall.
Date number four, I thought, Allie’s Dozen Dates Theory flitting across my mind. But who’s counting?
Cam looked up and spotted me. He froze in midchew. I didn’t have to look to see what he was eating: fettuccine carbonara. That was what he always ordered at Manfredi’s.
We stared at each other for a second. Then his expression relaxed into sort of a sad smile. He lifted one hand in a wave, and I waved back, feeling as awkward as humanly possible. I mean, what were the odds? Even in Claus Lake? I was still waving when Jaylene glanced around curiously. She waved back cheerfully, then leaned forward to say something to Cam.
Andrew had just turned after giving our name to the maître d’. Following my gaze, he took in the sight of the happy couple. I had to hand it to him—he was as cool as a cucumber. Only a slight twitch of the lower lip gave away that he’d noticed anything. Without acknowledging the situation at all, he reached out and put an arm around my shoulders.
“Come on, Lexi,” he said. “I think our table is ready.”
I was so distracted as we walked across the tightly packed restaurant that I’m surprised I didn’t trip over a table leg and land in someone’s soup. When we reached our table by the front window, the maître d’ stepped forward as if to pull out one of the chairs for me. But Andrew blocked him neatly, steering me to the other chair—the one with no view of Cam’s table.
“Uh, thanks,” I mumbled, still trying to wrap my head around what was happening here. Was I doomed to spend the rest of my senior year running into Cam and Jaylene everywhere I went? And if so, would it ever get easier to see them together?
I lurched into my seat, somehow managing to half miss and almost fall on my butt. Putting out my right arm to catch my balance, I accidentally set it down right on the lit candle in the center of the table.
“Ow!” I yelped, yanking my hand away from the flame and in the process almost falling off my chair again. Smooth. Really smooth. This was rapidly turning into a how-not-to manual for making a sexy impression on a first date with a new guy. Not to mention playing it cool in front of an ex and his new squeeze. Too bad Allie wasn’t there—she could have been taking notes for her next bestseller.
My face burned as several nearby diners glanced over in surprise and Andrew stared at me as if I’d just sprouted a second head. He reached out and righted the candle before it could set the little holly-and-ivy wreath surrounding it aflame.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine.” I stuck my singed finger in my mouth to soothe the burn. Then, realizing that wasn’t helping make me look any more sophisticated or in control of the situation, I quickly removed it and surreptitiously wiped it on my pants beneath the table.
Fortunately the waitress appeared at that moment with a pitcher of ice water and our menus. I was able to hide my face behind the menu until I felt my cheeks start to return to their normal color.
Somehow, I survived the next half hour or so. I even managed to avoid peeking over my shoulder to see what Cam and Jaylene were doing. The trouble was, I couldn’t seem to control my mind nearly as well. It kept drifting away from whatever Andrew was saying. Not that you could blame me too much for that. The guy only had one topic of conversation: himself. His choice of colleges. His predicted SAT score. His grades and extracurriculars. Oh, sure, once in a while he interrupted his autobiographical lecture to ask me a question about myself. I would grunt out some distracted, monosyllabic response, and then the Story of Andrew would continue. Of course, there was that one totally awkward moment when he mentioned something about wondering when the Simpson Scholarship would be announced already and then caught himself and stopped talking abruptly, apparently remembering that his primary competition for said scholarship was sitting across the table from him. His cheeks had sprouted little red spots for a moment, then he’d shrugged and changed the subject. Back to himself, of course.
I was relieved when he excused himself to go to the restroom. As soon as he was gone, I slumped in my seat and stared at my burned finger. It still stung a little and looked kind of red. I hoped it wouldn’t swell up and make it hard to type. I still had a few applications to finish.
“Lexi?”
I glanced up, but I already knew who I’d see standing there beside the table. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.
“Oh—hi, Cam,” I said, quickly tucking my finger away out of sight within my fist. “Having a nice time?”
This time I couldn’t resist glancing over my shoulder at his table. Jaylene was nowhere in sight.
He saw where I was looking. “Jaylene just went to the bathroom,” he said. “Um, I mean the little girls’ room.” He smiled faintly. “That’s what she calls it.”
“Cute.” I wasn’t really in the mood to hear every little adorable thing about Jaylene. But I did my best to keep smiling as if it didn’t bother me in the least.
“Anyway, I just wanted to come over and make sure you’re okay.” Cam gestured toward my hand. “It looked like you burned yourself pretty good.”
“Oh.” I was touched. “Yeah. I’ll be all right. Thanks.”
“You sure? Good.” He looked down at my plate. If he noticed I’d barely touched my food, he didn’t say anything. “Having the tortellini, huh? That’s one of your favorites.”
“Yeah. And let me guess—you got your usual fettuccine?”
“Believe it
or not, no,” he said with a slightly sheepish laugh. “Jaylene talked me into trying the lasagna.” He shrugged. “It’s pretty good. Maybe not as good as the fettuccine, but good.”
“Oh.” Were we still talking about Italian food? I wasn’t quite sure.
Cam shot a glance across the restaurant, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. “Well, I’d better get back. Enjoy the rest of your dinner. And I hope your hand feels better too.”
“Thanks.”
He headed back to his seat. I watched him weave his way among the other tables. What a nice guy! Everyone always said that about him, of course, myself included. But until that moment, I wasn’t sure I’d ever stopped to think about what the phrase really meant.
“I’m back!” Andrew announced as he returned to our table a minute or two later. He sat down and reached for his water glass. “So where were we? Oh yeah—I was just telling you about that weird essay question for the application to . . .”
I pasted a smile on my face and stared at him, still lost in the thoughts Cam’s little visit had brought up. Andrew was exactly the kind of guy I probably should be with. He was smart and driven and likely to succeed and all sorts of other things I generally admired.
But was he “nice”? No, not really. Not like Cam.
A few minutes later Cam and Jaylene finished their meal and got up to leave. I watched them out of the corner of my eye as he retrieved her silly little baby blue coat from the hooks near the door and helped her put it on. As she fussed with her blond hair, pulling it out from beneath her fur-lined collar, Cam glanced over and saw me looking. He smiled and waved. I returned the smile weakly and wriggled my fingers in return.
“What are you looking at, Lexi?” Andrew interrupted himself. He looked over just in time to see Cam open the door for Jaylene. “Oh.” He shrugged, then shoveled in a mouthful of lasagna before returning to his favorite topic. “So anyway, like I was saying, the admissions guy from Northwestern . . .”
As the door swung shut behind the happy couple, I picked up my fork and poked at my pasta, feeling a little sick. Would this ever get any easier?
The Twelve Dates of Christmas Page 6
