…
Holly’s nerves still tingled where Danny’s fingers had grazed her cheek. Danny Garland had touched Holly’s face. He’d talked to her like she was someone worth knowing. Obviously, she had to ruin the moment it by bringing up Elda, hitting the destruct button on their conversation. It had to be done—the nuclear option.
She concentrated hard on her gingerbread house after that, and when the two hours were up, she folded her arms and stood next to her creation. This was why she was here. This was the whole point of everything.
Danny had taken the hint. He’d stopped trying to talk to her, as well. Holly kept her focus on the mayor and the judges as they worked the room, assessing every gingerbread construction.
The mayor cleared his throat, clapped for attention, and waited until all eyes were on him. The townies in the room knew to quiet down right away. The tourists took a moment to settle. “Wonderful work, everyone. You’ve made our job very difficult. My fellow judges and I can’t wait to see what you have to offer us in the way of showstoppers on Christmas Eve. Without further ado, in third place tonight…Tinka Foster.”
Tinka folded her arms, scowling, while her boyfriend tried to console her. He whispered something in her ear that made her smile. Holly had to look away. Her mind had pictured Danny doing the same to her, leaning close, the tip of his nose tickling her ear. A foolish pipedream. He liked Elda. Plus, she and Danny were polar opposites—the fun, sweet, popular guy and the introverted loner. Even if Elda weren’t in the picture, Danny and Holly could never happen.
“In second place…” The mayor’s eyes twinkled. “Santabucks’s own, Danny Garland.”
Holly checked on Danny out of the corner of her eye. He was frowning, disappointed. Danny Garland didn’t do second place. Holly fought the urge to lean over and whisper a joke to him—something about how it looked like Dinesh has slathered on his royal icing with a shovel, something she would’ve texted him if she’d had Elda’s phone—but she didn’t. Danny and Holly didn’t have that kind of relationship. To him she was just some random relative of the girl he liked.
Turning away from Danny, she lifted her chin. The mayor hadn’t yet announced first place, and Holly was definitely in the running. Though she’d been slightly distracted by Danny during the competition, Holly had done her best. The walls of her gingerbread house were straight, the decorations looked good, and her lines were clean. She crossed her fingers and sent a telepathic message to her grandmother, wherever she might be.
“In first place tonight, we have…” The mayor paused dramatically.
Holly crossed her fingers harder.
“Holly Page!” the mayor said.
Her knees went weak. She grabbed the lip of the table to stay upright as the room erupted in applause, Danny among them. He was eyeing her curiously. “Good job,” he said. “I guess I should watch out for you. If you were able to get that good at building a gingerbread house in one day…”
He trailed off into awkward silence. She battled the force pushing her toward him. This was a moment where it’d be totally normal to hug, for catharsis, in solidarity. They’d spent the past two hours working next to each other. They were friends…sort of. But Holly wasn’t sure she could survive a hug.
She started gathering her things, cleaning up her table, trying to look busy, and Danny did the same, all in silence. Just as she was finishing up, Craig came over. Holly never imagined she’d be so happy to see a guy who’d once tackled her over a box of candy bars.
“What’s up, Craig?” she asked cheerfully.
Craig stood in front of her and Danny in his shapeless, high-rise jeans and a geeky Christmas sweatshirt—some Dr. Who joke Holly only knew by osmosis. “A bunch of us are going to the arcade for pizza. It’s tradition. Wanna come?”
“I don’t know.” She’d been planning to work on her showstopper. She really needed to get started on that, especially now that she had a shot to win.
“Usually we only invite locals.” Craig folded his arms. “But we all agreed we should make an exception for you. Your grandma was one of us, and she was a great lady.”
Well, that did it. Holly pressed her tongue against the back of her upper lip for a moment to stop herself from crying. “That’s nice of you,” she said. “Really, really nice. Thank you. I’d love to hang out tonight.”
“Me, too,” Danny said, even though Holly wasn’t quite sure he’d actually been invited.
…
“Your grandma’d talk about you all the time,” Sam, Tinka’s boyfriend, said as he plated pizza for Holly later that night at Santa’s Playground. This was one of the North Pole places Holly had been super excited to return to. Santa’s Playground was like one of the clubs that Stefon on Saturday Night Live always used to talk about. It had everything—video games, laser tag, pizza. Tonight it even had karaoke.
When Holly and her cousins were kids, they use to beg their parents to take them here. The moms and dads would balk, but Grandma’d always cave, letting the adults have a night out on their own so she could take her grandchildren to this magical place. The kids would spend the evening shooting each other with light-up guns and winning prizes that cost way more than they were worth.
Tonight Holly wasn’t here with her cousins and brother; but these North Pole people, and the way they spoke about Holly’s grandma, almost felt like extended family. Sam, in particular, was super sweet and easygoing, and he and Tinka were so happy and in love. They were constantly finding little reasons to touch each other, but it wasn’t annoying coming from them. Well, other than the fact that it made Holly wonder if she’d ever have that, if she’d ever find someone to knead her shoulders after a grueling gingerbread contest or wipe pizza sauce from the corner of her mouth.
Her eyes met Danny’s for a second. He was looking at her, which was something he’d been doing a lot tonight. He had to stop that. It was like he was trying so hard to be her friend, like he needed her approval or something. Well, why? Who cared what Holly thought?
She folded her arms and stared off in the distance. She’d rather people assume she didn’t care than think she cared too much. Vulnerability was not in her comfort zone.
“Why aren’t you up there, Craig?” Danny nodded toward the stage at the far end of the room. A DJ had started setting up his equipment, and Dinesh had gone up to speak to the guy.
Craig folded his arms. “I’m not a karaoke DJ, Daniel.”
“There’s a difference?” Danny was toying with Craig, Holly could tell. This was probably their usual rapport.
“Of course there’s a difference.”
Dinesh dropped a few binders on the table. “You’re up, Craig.”
Craig saluted the table before sauntering to the stage and grabbing the mic. “Let’s karaoke.” His voice had dropped two octaves. Craig, in his mom jeans and Dr. Who shirt, started rapping to “Lose Yourself.”
Holly’s eyes grew as big as dinner plates, and she turned to Danny, whose chin was practically on the table. “Craig is Eminem,” she said.
“We all have our niches,” Dinesh explained. “Mine’s Elvis.”
Sam, his arm around his girlfriend, said, “Tinka and I do movie songs.”
“Your grandma used to go old school—Rat Pack stuff.” Dinesh was flipping through one of the binders.
“No, she didn’t.” Holly’s grandma did not do karaoke. She and Holly were way too similar, and Holly would never, ever get up there on her own.
“She sure did,” Sam said.
“I remember.” Danny’s brow was furrowed. He was looking right at Holly, his eyes soft. “She sang ‘New York, New York.’”
“What do you know about it?” Sam said. “I seem to remember you sitting in the corner with Star last year, making fun of us.”
Danny looked down, hiding his expression, but a blush crept up his neck. “Well, Star’s out of the picture now, isn’t she?” He pulled one of the binders closer to him. “Maybe I’ll sing tonight, too.”
“Christmas miracle,” Sam said.
The members of Holly’s little group sang in turn—Dinesh performed a perfect rendition of “Suspicious Minds,” and Tinka and Sam did an enthusiastic, if off-key, version of “Elephant Love Medley” from the movie Moulin Rouge!
Sam pushed a binder toward Holly. “You’re up.”
She shook her head “no,” but couldn’t deny that electricity had filled the room. The crowd at Santa’s Playhouse buzzed with friendly, joyful support. If she was ever going to do it, this was the perfect place to lose one’s karaoke virginity. Holly thumbed through the binder, just in case inspiration struck.
The words on the page blurred when she reached the Frank Sinatra section. Holly remembered something she’d read earlier that day. “Strangers in the Night,” she said out loud.
“Good choice,” Craig said.
“No, ‘Strangers in the Night’ was written in my grandma’s day planner under the entry for round two of the gingerbread contest. I bet that’s what she was going to sing.” Holly forced a smile as tears burned her eyes. Her grandma really had planned on singing tonight. She’d also had no clue she wouldn’t be around to do it.
She felt Danny’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t look at him. It’d be too much in the moment. She was mourning her grandma. That pain was enough right now. She couldn’t bear the sting of unrequited love on top of it.
Dinesh picked up the book and nodded toward the DJ. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“We’re going to sing ‘Strangers in the Night.’ For your grandma.”
Holly shook her head. She barely knew that song. He couldn’t expect her to get up and sing it in front of all these people.
Sam jumped up. “Yeah. Let’s do it. All of us. For Mrs. Page.” Sam turned to Danny. “You in?”
“You go ahead.” His leg was up on a chair. “I’ll be your audience. I need to save my voice for my solo.”
“Fair enough.” Dinesh, who had some pull at Santa’s Playhouse, persuaded the DJ to let them jump the line. Holly fought against every nerve in her body telling her to run home and hide. This was for Grandma, to honor her. This was what the day planner had been instructing her to do. The five of them huddled around two microphones—Holly, Sam, Tinka, Dinesh, and Craig.
Laughing through the tears flooding her eyes, Holly let the others take the lead, keeping her distance from the mic. Arms linked, they all swayed in time to the music, belting out a slightly off-key version of the Sinatra song. She glanced over at Craig and Dinesh, who were basically treating this like an audition for America’s Got Talent. The crowd cheered them on as they added melismatic runs to the melody.
Holly straightened her shoulders, mimicking the guys. She was always so guarded, so practiced, so calculated. She never let go like this. Even when sculpting, she kept her subject matters benign, unemotional. When dealing with matters of the heart, like with Danny, she always took the practical route. But tonight, she leaned in closer to the microphone, nudging Craig and Dinesh out of the way, and sang the final chorus as a solo.
The crowd—except Danny, because of his crutches—jumped to its feet in raucous applause. They were cheering for her. Or, well, they were cheering for the entire group, but they hadn’t booed Holly after her solo. She hadn’t let the team down. She hadn’t let her grandma down.
Though she fought it hard, Holly couldn’t stop smiling. When their group returned to the table, her eyes met Danny’s accidentally. She’d kind of forgotten he was there. Almost.
After Holly sat down, Danny reached across the table and squeezed her hand, but she jerked away quickly, like she’d been burned. He wasn’t supposed to touch her like that, especially not when it made her body go all weak and tingly.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s fine.” She turned her chair so she didn’t have to look at him.
The DJ called Danny’s name. “I hope I’m half as good as you,” he whispered, before hobbling up to the stage.
“I don’t normally do this kind of thing,” Danny said, once he’d situated himself behind the microphone stand, leaning forward on his crutches, “but I’m feeling inspired tonight.” He got all serious then and nodded toward the DJ, who pressed play.
After the first few bars, everyone knew what song Danny was singing, and the crowd started whooping and cheering. He grinned. Danny Garland, former captain of the basketball team and person who had previously been “too cool” for karaoke, was singing Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”
And he was rocking it.
His voice wasn’t the best or anything, but that didn’t matter. He was feeling the song. He was on crutches, yes, but he still had moves. Everyone in the crowd started singing along, cheering and clapping. Danny flipped his hair off his forehead like a total rock star, and his eyes met Holly’s.
She nearly melted.
This wasn’t good. Melting was not the appropriate response. All of this was getting too heady, too real. Holly rose out of her seat without really knowing what she was doing. Danny was going out with her cousin. He liked Elda. She, Holly, was the one who’d made this happen. But the way he’d just looked at her, it was almost as if he wanted her, Holly, which was obviously completely ridiculous.
He was being friendly. He was putting on a show. That was all this was. Holly had gone to a Justin Timberlake concert a few years ago and had wound up in the front row. She could’ve sworn she’d locked eyes with Justin for a moment, and maybe she had, but it had been part of the act. Danny looking at her like that just now was all part of his performance.
She had to stay cool. She was the one who was going to get hurt here.
With Danny still belting out his song, Holly ducked her head and bolted for the crowded arcade, losing herself in the lights and dings and people. She barreled to the very back of the room and hid inside the empty Star Wars racing game to think. She gripped the steering wheel, wishing it could transport her to outer space for real, right this second.
Holly had handed over the rights to Danny days ago. He and Elda were going on an architecture tour together in two days, their first official date. That was happening. For her own sanity, and for Elda, Holly had to stay far away from Danny. She did not want to get in the middle of this any more than she already was.
Someone knocked on the door. Holly said nothing, willing whoever it was to go away. But instead the door opened, and Danny was standing there, balancing on his crutches. Super. Just who she wanted to see. Why couldn’t he just take the hint and leave her alone?
“You okay?” he said.
Holly shrugged. “I’m fine. Just playing a game.” She kept staring at the welcome screen in front of her. Danny’s eyes were kryptonite.
“No, you’re not,” he said.
“Well, I’m about to.” She’d keep her sentences short and clipped. That’d give him the hint.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” he said.
Turning toward him, Holly let out a laugh, then covered her mouth, hiding her nervous chuckle. She hadn’t been expecting that. Also, if only he knew.
“Did I do something?” he asked.
“Danny, oh my God.”
He frowned. Man, his eyes were beautiful, especially when they were all sad like that. Sometimes she got caught up in how hot he was now, but sometimes, like in this moment, she caught a glimpse of who he was as a kid—the dorky, competitive gingerbread master, the boy who would totally understand her, if only they had the chance to get to know each other.
“Why do you care so much?” she asked. But of course he cared. Popular people always cared about being liked, because being liked was their default. That was Danny’s downfall, his weakness. Holly never expected to be liked, and she found strength in that solitude. Accepting her alone status had helped her survive high school. It would help her get through the next twelve days in North Pole.
“You’re always frowning at me like you think I’m an awful person, and I
want to know why. What did I do to you? Was I a jerk when we were kids or something?” he asked.
Maybe she did frown sometimes. Maybe she suffered from a mild case of resting bitch face. Why did he care? He had Elda; why did he need her, too? Holly was tired and emotionally drained, and him coming around all the time wasn’t helping anything. “Okay, no. I don’t like you.”
His jaw dropped.
Holly remembered a movie that she and her grandma used to watch back in the day—The Journey of Natty Gann. There was this scene where the main character had to yell at her wolf friend to send him away, because she couldn’t travel with him anymore. The same kind of thing also happened in Harry and the Hendersons. Oh, and a few other movies she could think of. It was apparently a fairly well-worn trope.
And it was what Holly was doing to Danny right now. For her own self-preservation, she was sending him away.
“I know your type.” She stood, and he had to hop away from the video game to let her out. “You’re popular, but insecure. People like you can’t stand it if someone doesn’t adore you.”
He blinked, like no one had ever dropped a truth bomb like that on him before. “You don’t know anything about me.”
Holly shrugged. “Maybe not.”
She was nearly back to the pizza parlor when he shouted after her. “Well, you’re mean and angry and you never even gave me a chance. From day one, you looked at me like you hated me.”
Holly turned around and held her hands up. This had to be done. “Well, congratulations to both of us then. We don’t like each other. Let’s stop pretending we have anything left to discuss.”
Chapter Ten
DANNY: Okay, so, I think your cousin hates me.
ELDA: I guarantee she doesn’t hate you.
DANNY: Holly said, and I quote, “I don’t like you.”
ELDA: Trust me. She doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t “not like” you. I know for a fact that she thinks you’re nice.
DANNY: Too nice. She thinks I’m a puppy dog.
ELDA: I think she has a hard time talking to guys like you.
Approximately Yours (North Pole, Minnesota) Page 10
