The heater groaned menacingly but continued to putter out warm air. Ten minutes later, Sawyer knocked at the door.
Wes jumped off the bed, stood in front of the door, and called through it, “What’s the secret password?”
“If you don’t let me in, I’ll shave your eyebrows in your sleep.”
“Nope. It’s only three words,” Wes said.
“It’s cold out here.”
“That was four.”
I stepped forward, pushed Wes out of the way, and unlocked the door.
Sawyer wrapped me in a cold hug, trapping my arms at my sides. “This girl is the only nice one in this room. Thank you, Amalie.”
I laughed. “You’re cold. Stop stealing my heat.”
He immediately released me. And when he did, I noticed he held a small paper bag.
“You found what you were looking for?” I asked.
“Yes.” He took the bag to his backpack and tucked it away in one of the side pockets.
“You know,” I said. “As your mentor and the person who gave you the idea to give your crush gifts, I think I should probably have final gift approval to make sure you are picking out appropriate things.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Logan said.
“At this point,” Sawyer said, “it’s too late. These gifts are going to be between me and her.”
A tinge of disappointment settled in my chest and I wasn’t sure why.
“Oh!” Sawyer said, pulling something from his back pocket. “But I did get you this. You said all your toiletries were on the plane.” He held a packaged purple toothbrush in his hand.
I closed my eyes in gratitude. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s really for all our sakes,” Wes said.
This time I didn’t need to be dared. I took off my shoe and chucked it at Wes.
DECEMBER 24, 2:50 A.M.
Sawyer was the second to last to shower. When he came out of the bathroom in a long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair wet, a trail of steam followed him. He’d only taken twenty minutes in there. Everyone else was asleep. The room was dark except for a single light on the desk, which was clicked onto its lowest setting.
I moved to take over the bathroom when Sawyer stopped me. “I left a clean T-shirt on the counter. If you want it, it’s yours. I left some other toiletries in there as well. You’re welcome to use them.”
“I don’t need to steal your stuff,” I protested.
“Please do. I doubt we’ll be stopping again for another shower before we make it home.”
“Thank you.”
“For getting you into this mess?” he asked.
“For being so nice.” I held up my packaged toothbrush and slipped past him into the bathroom.
Everything was … wet. Like four other people had been using it for the last two hours. There was a single dry towel left and I was grateful for that.
I took my time in the shower, letting the heat relax all the tense muscles in my neck and back. When I was out, I brushed my teeth for much longer than the recommended two minutes. Then I pulled on Sawyer’s T-shirt. It smelled clean, and it was big enough on me to double as a nightgown. When I went back into the room, the small light on the desk was now off but I saw a glowing light coming from inside the closet.
I walked over to the closet and saw that the door was cracked open and someone was sitting inside.
I slid the door open a little farther. Sawyer sat against the wall, several pillows behind him, reading a book by the light of his phone.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
He looked up. “I took that late nap in the car, and I didn’t want to disturb anyone.”
I glanced over my shoulder at all the sleeping forms: Heather on one of the two beds, Logan on the floor, and Wes on the couch.
I looked back at Sawyer. He tugged a pillow out from behind his back, set it against the wall next to him, and scooted over a bit. It was his offer to join him. So I did. I stepped into the closet, slid the door closed behind me, and sat down next to him. It wasn’t a huge closet, barely enough room for the two of us, side by side. Overhead two hangers formed another pair.
“Do you often read in closets?” I asked.
Sawyer grinned. “Surprisingly, this is my first time. You?”
“I can’t say that I have. But I have sat in a closet before.”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes it’s the only place for privacy.”
“As I’ve learned tonight.”
“Until I interrupted you.” He probably just wanted a minute alone. He’d been stuck in the back seat of a car with me nearly continuously for the last thirty-six hours. I moved to leave. “Sorry.”
He grabbed my hand. “Stay.”
I did. He kept hold of my hand, staring at it. My heart picked up speed and my cheeks warmed. Then I chastised myself. I didn’t want to be a Candice or a Lisa or whoever else his sister mentioned that he’d dated, all the while thinking about his crush. Sawyer needed to let things play out with his crush before any other girl stood a chance. I gently took my hand back and adjusted the pillow behind me.
“When was the last time you sought refuge in a closet?” he asked.
I swallowed the lump that rose up in my throat at the memory. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
I swallowed a couple more times. Here in this closet, in the middle of the night, memories swirling in my brain, I felt like I needed to talk. Get a bit of this out before I had to face my parents. “I dropped out of the program.”
I don’t know how I expected him to react—a gasp, a look of disappointment, a shocked grunt—but he just nodded slowly, like he somehow already knew this.
“Why?” he asked.
“I couldn’t handle the pressure.”
“The girl who can sing in front of a packed stadium at a football game couldn’t handle pressure?”
“You saw that?”
“Yes.”
“Wait, is that the only time you’ve ever heard me sing? With horrible sound equipment on a windy night?”
“Yes, but it was really good. Amazing.”
I let out a scoffing sound.
“Until I have another performance to compare it to, I stand by my claim,” he said.
I looked down. “That’s the point, you won’t. I can’t sing anymore.”
“You can’t sing anymore?”
“Well, no … I mean, I can, just not in front of people, not when it matters.”
“It only matters if people are listening?” he asked.
“For what I want to do, yes.”
“Maybe …” He stopped and shook his head.
“What?” I asked. “Finish.”
“Maybe if it started mattering when it was just for you again, then the rest would …”
“Would what? Just fall into place? The rest wouldn’t matter? You’re right, you’ve cured me.” I could hear the anger in my voice. I was the one who asked him to finish his sentence and I was mad. The fact of the matter was that he was right. I had stopped appreciating music. I had forgotten why I loved it in the first place. It had become all about scoring a part. I still couldn’t conjure up the feelings of joy I once had when only thinking about a piece of music. I leaned forward, burying my face in my knees.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right, I don’t know anything about anything.”
“I’m not mad at you,” I said. “I’m mad at myself.” And that was true.
“Maybe being home will help,” he said.
I felt his hand tentatively touch my back, like he wanted to comfort me but wasn’t sure how I would react. He really was a nice guy. If his crush rejected him, I was going to be so sad for him. He deserved the girl he wanted and she’d be lucky to have him.
“That’s what I’m counting on,” I said. “Home.”
“And your parents? Are they going to be upset?”
“Yes. But after that. A
fter the blowup, after the ‘you have to get a job and pay us back your tuition’ talk, then I’ll be home.” My shoulders relaxed a degree with just the thought. I was starting to believe that I would be fine once I was back in my familiar routines and surroundings.
Sawyer was quiet for a moment, then said, “If you ever need someone to practice singing in front of, I volunteer.”
I turned my head so my cheek now rested on my knees and I could see him. “I might take you up on that if only to erase the last time you heard me from your ears. No wonder you couldn’t think of an adjective to describe it before.”
He met my eyes. “Gorgeous, perfect, heavenly.”
If my face went red one more time, it was going to completely give away the fact that I’d joined the Sawyer fan club. I was developing a crush on this guy. And he had a backpack full of evidence that his heart was already taken. “Heavenly?” I repeated, trying to hide my embarrassment.
“Better than ‘angelic.’”
“Barely.”
He smiled, and then his face went serious. “You’ll figure things out, Amalie. Sometimes you just have to let go for a little while.”
I suddenly remembered what his sister had said in the car—about Sawyer understanding my situation. “Are you speaking from experience?” I asked.
“Long story that I’ve let go of.” He gave me a smirk. “But it has to do with emotionally absent parents.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged.
“If you ever need to share that long story, I’m a pretty good listener,” I said.
“I’ll listen to your songs and you’ll listen to my sob stories? I think I got the better end of the deal, but I like this idea.”
“Although, your new girlfriend might end up being the jealous type.”
“True. She might be. That is, if this whole gift plan of yours works.”
“It will,” I assured him.
“I hope you’re right,” he said.
I hoped I was wrong, but I knew that was a very selfish thing to hope for, so I quickly made the opposite wish.
DECEMBER 24, 1:42 P.M.
“Arizona has never looked so good,” Logan said the next afternoon, still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from getting a good night’s sleep on the motel room floor.
We were now nine hours from home. It was Christmas Eve. We’d make it to Fresno by Christmas. This thought made me happy.
“I know,” Heather said. “It’s so pretty and orange and dry.”
Sawyer was asleep on my lap, his jacket beneath his head. We’d been up most of the night talking in that closet. I was trying my hardest not to move so he wouldn’t wake up. I had been staring at him for the last hour and decided he was very pretty and that I was acting very creepy. Now I was trying not to stare at him. Instead, I was gently playing with his hair, which might have also been creepy, but I couldn’t stop—his hair was wavy and soft.
“What about you, Amalie?” Heather asked.
“What?” Had they been talking to me?
“Any Christmas Eve traditions?” She met my eyes in the rearview mirror and I could see that she was smiling. She knew. She could tell that I was crushing on her brother. I tried to put a casual expression on my face instead of the doe-eyed look that was surely there a moment ago.
“Um. Yes, we all exchange pajama gifts, and then we sleep in them that night,” I said, feeling another pang of homesickness.
“That’s fun,” Heather said.
“What about you guys?” I asked.
“We exchange one gift, nothing specific though,” she said. “And we eat lots of sugar.”
“We do too.” I smiled at the thought of my mom’s Christmas cookies.
“We talk about past Christmas failures in an epic passive-aggressive showdown,” Wes chimed in.
Heather shoved his shoulder. “Oh, come on. You have the best parents in the world.”
“I don’t know about the world, but they are pretty good.”
“We go up to Shaver Lake and tube,” Logan said. “I’m kind of glad I’m missing that right now because I’m so done with snow.”
“I actually wouldn’t mind a white Christmas,” I said.
Everyone in the car groaned.
Sawyer stirred and I froze. His eyes fluttered open and he sat up with a stretch.
“Did I drool on you?” he asked, looking at my jeans. “Because that would be mortifying.” He ran his hands through his hair and then over his face.
“Funny,” I said.
“Amalie was just wishing for the impossible,” Heather said.
“What’s impossible?” he scoffed, as if he could grant any wish.
“Snow in Fresno.”
“Oh, yeah, you might want to make a different Christmas wish.”
I met his eyes. “I’m working on that.”
DECEMBER 24, 2:20 P.M.
“Logan, you have the bladder of a three-year-old,” Heather said as she pulled off the freeway.
“I drink a lot of water. It’s good for you. You all should learn from my example.”
“‘Mesquite, Nevada,’” Wes read a roadside sign out loud.
Heather parked in a gas station. “Don’t touch any of the slot machines here, you underage children,” she said, opening her door and jumping out.
When she shut the door, Wes turned and said, “Logan, I dare you to play one of the slot machines in the gas station.”
“Why?” Logan asked. “If I win, I can’t collect the money.”
“Just to make Heather mad.”
Logan seemed to think about this reasoning for a moment, then said, “Okay.” Then he and Wes both hopped out of the car.
I laughed and glanced at Sawyer as we climbed out of the SUV. “So Wes actually dares Logan sometimes too.”
“Wes dares whoever’s name comes into his head first.”
The air outside was warmer than it had been for the last several days. It felt good.
“Will you help me pick out a gift at this stop?” Sawyer asked, climbing out behind me.
“Yeah … sure,” I said, trying to sound good-natured about it. Don’t be jealous, I reminded myself.
The gas station store was decked out for the holidays. Colored lights were strung up and a lopsided Christmas tree was painted on the glass door. Inside, Logan was standing at the single slot machine by the front window. Wes was watching him, laughing, and Heather was giving them both her best “mom” look.
Sawyer and I wandered over to the souvenir aisle. Right away I saw a small stuffed blue bird and picked it up.
“You think I should get her that?” Sawyer asked.
“Oh.” I turned the bird to face him. “No, my mom used to call me her songbird and I keep seeing reminders of it.” I sat the bird back on the shelf.
A burst of laughter came from the front of the store and I guessed Logan had completed his dare. Then Logan streaked past us, heading toward the restrooms.
I picked up a replica of a gaming token. “You should get her this for sure,” I told Sawyer. “It represents this stop the best. Then you can tell her all about Wes’s dare to Logan.”
Sawyer nodded. “Okay.”
I kept studying the shelves, moving down the aisle. At one point, I happened to glance up and see Wes pointing at something and raising his eyebrows at Sawyer who stood next to me. Sawyer shook his head “no” several times. I pretended not to see, turning over more items on the shelves. When Sawyer turned his attention back to the shelves, I looked to where Wes had been pointing. A sprig of some sort of plant hung down from the ceiling above us. It took me a moment to realize it was mistletoe. My heart seemed to stop and then beat double time.
“Amalie,” Wes said.
“Wes, don’t,” Sawyer warned. He didn’t know I’d seen it.
“You and Sawyer are standing under mistletoe,” Wes continued, undeterred. “If you believe in Christmas at all, you must fulfill the age-old tradition.”
Seconds ago, Sawyer ha
d looked annoyed, but when I glanced his way now, he just put on a patient smile. “Don’t listen to him.”
“Amalie,” Wes said. “I dare you.”
My heart still wanted to beat out of my chest but I tried to play cool and turned to Sawyer with a shrug. “In the spirit of Christmas?”
“You don’t have to,” he said.
“I know. You don’t either.”
“It’s not that, it’s just …”
His crush. I knew why he didn’t want to.
“How about on the cheek?” I suggested. I presented my cheek for him.
“Okay.”
I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the dare that Wes had issued, maybe it was some stupid belief that if Sawyer and I kissed, some miracle would occur. But as Sawyer leaned toward me, I turned to face him at the last second. Our lips met. It was a quick peck and he pulled away quickly, his cheeks going red for once. Wes cheered.
As far as first kisses went, it wasn’t one that was going to change Sawyer’s mind about anything. It was too short and unexpected. Plus, he’d pulled away, like I was poison. I forced a laugh, hoping Sawyer wasn’t mad at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He put his arm around me and kissed me again, on the cheek this time. “Don’t be. You’re sweet.”
Sweet? Great, I’d gotten two kisses today. One real one, and the other the kiss of death.
Wes joined us in our aisle. “My turn?” he asked.
“Sure.” I stepped away, leaving Wes and Sawyer under the mistletoe.
Sawyer puckered up for Wes and got punched in the shoulder instead.
Sawyer took the fake coin up to the register, where the man told him no short of twenty times that it wasn’t real and was just a novelty and wouldn’t work on anything.
I kept browsing and noticed a stack of ninety-nine-cent bookmarks. I looked through the stack, picked one out, along with a bottle of water and a banana, then joined Sawyer at the checkout stand.
“What game are you going to use that coin on first?” I asked Sawyer.
“No,” the man said again. “It’s not real.” He repeated this ten more times and Sawyer narrowed his eyes at me. I bumped his hip with mine. When Sawyer left, I slid the bookmark I’d been hiding onto the counter with my other things and asked for a bag.
Snow in Love Page 4
