Page 119 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“So?” I say as he turns down Krampus Court, headed right toward Whistler Lane, our trip soon ending. “I think it makes you more human. Shows the kind of soul you have. I like it.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Yeah, I do.”
We reach our cul-de-sac, and he pulls into his driveway. When he turns off the truck, he doesn’t leave the cab but instead tilts his head back against the headrest. “So, what are we going to do?”
“What do you mean?”
He leans his head to the side. “Moving forward, do we still hate eachother? Do we find common ground and show everyone that enemies can turn into friends? Do we continue to pretend that we have crushes on each other? Things changed today, and I’m not sure how to handle it all.”
“Oh, because we don’t hate each other, right?”
“It wasn’t hate—it was pent-up anger,” he says. “I don’t think I ever could really hate you, Storee. You’re the girl who drank hot cocoa with me on my porch. Hard to hate her.”
And when he says sweet things like that, it’s hard not to like him.
Hard not to have feelings.
Hardnotto harbor that crush from many years ago.
Not wanting to open up that box, I decide to play it safe, stick to the status quo. “Well, I think the town has enjoyed the whole enemies-to-lovers vibe we’ve been giving off, so maybe we continue with that.”
“Yeah.” He turns toward me. “So does that mean we need to go on another date?”
“Hmm, I think to feed into what the people of Kringle want, we probably should at least mention that we did.”
“Right…mention it,” he says, his eyes falling to his lap, not what I was hoping for. After today, I would like nothing more than for him to make a move. Take my hand again, maybe…lean in for more. “We can, uh, we can do that. What about when you’re around your aunt and Taran…and Max for that matter? Maybe still spar, argue, all of that?”
“Probably for the best,” I say.
“Yeah, probably.” His lips crease to the side. “Okay, well, good luck with the candy canes. Hope Taran likes the truffles.”
Good luck?
Hope Taran likes the truffles?
That’s it?
Nothing else?
When I sense no movement, no temptation to move in closer, I realize, yup, that’s it.
“Thank you,” I say as I grab the bag of goodies, feeling disappointed. “And thanks for everything, Cole. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah, sure.”
And then together, we leave the truck, him going to his house, me going to mine. I just don’t know why I feel…as bereft as I do.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Cole
Peppermint candies, huckleberry truffles, and chocolate-covered chips.
Boy oh boy, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, they would lock lips.
But poor Snow Daddy came up short, sent on his way without a kiss.
