Getting Kole for Christmas (2 page)

I decide to take the back door. This way my family won’t see me and hopefully I can avoid getting one of those looks from Mom and Dad. Those I’m-sorry-nobody-ever-asks-you-out looks. I’m glad to leave my phone behind; who even wants to think about what Kole might reply to my latest text? Not. Me.

I push open the back door in time to hear oohing and ahhing galore. I’m pretty sure I cut through my top lip in the moment of irritation, not that it matters. I won’t be going to a dance and getting my picture taken and having it shoved into that monstrosity in the hallway.

I tip-toe through the dark carport, hopping from one dry spot to the next until I can lean far enough around the edge to see.

At least three dozen red and green balloons are tied to a two-liter of soda, making the lone bottle look like it’s about to float away. When I secretly wish it would, I curse myself for being such a jealous sister.

I stretch my neck out to see better as my entire family gathers around Tiff. She picks up a big poster that must have been lying on the ground and reads it aloud.

“Tiff, I don’t know what I’d
Dew
if you didn’t go to the Christmas dance with me. Say yes, and I’ll be floating on air.” She and Trina squeal in unison while jumping up and down.

“Aw, that is the sweetest,” Melanie cries. I can see hope and excitement in her eyes. And for a moment, I can see
me
in those eyes too – years of  watching my sisters get asked to one dance after the next while I dream of being at the receiving end of those invitations.

It should make me wish that she’ll get asked too, but I’m just not kind enough or evolved enough or whatever I’d have to be to hope for such a thing. Because all I can think of is how nice it will finally be to have one other person in this world who understands just how hard it is to be compared to the Bronson twins.
Sorry, sister. Life isn’t always fair.

 Tiff clears her throat and finishes reading with her loud, happy voice. “It says, pop all the balloons and you will find, slips of paper that I signed. Match up the letters to spell my name, I hope that you enjoy this game.” The girls squeal again.

I groan.
Pop the balloons?
This is going to take hours. And is it even worth doing? It’s not like we don’t already know whom it’s from.

My dad laughs that big hearty laugh of his as he circles the display. “What a clever idea.”   

“I’ll run and get a pin,” Mom says. “Bring it all inside and Dad will snap some pictures of you girls popping the balloons.”

Everyone shuffles in through the open doorway. Everyone but my dad. He glances in my direction and though I’m not sure he sees me I’m too scared to blink or breathe. Just when I think he’s seeing shadows of the neighbor’s ugly cat, his eyes land right on me. The porch light illuminates his face, and I wonder how much of it reaches mine.

I shrink my neck into my shoulders, hoping to dodge ‘the look’ but I’m too late; pity is already etched on his face.

“Tell me you’re kidding.” The dry tone of Kole’s voice makes me smile.

“I’m not though. That’s exactly what it said.”

Kole rolls his eyes. “Pop the balloons? Bet that was fun to listen to.”

“Yeah. I was flinching from each hideous balloon pop until I could get my music loud enough to drown it out. By then Trina came down and said I was ruining the recording.”

Kole throws me a questioning glance so I elaborate. “They were filming her – as if there was actually an ounce of suspense as to who’d asked.”

“Hey, Kole-ster,” Mike says, barreling down the hall. I look up to see Chase isn’t far behind.

“Well, I better go,” I say, not wanting to compete with his friends.

“Hey, Kylie,” Chase bellows.

“The Kyster,” Mike says next.

Kole shoots me an apologetic look as they surround us.

“So will you two be attending the Christmas festivities put on by our very own West Ridge High?” Chase asks, sounding exactly like Mr. Rainer.

“Definitely not,” I snap without hesitation. My answer – compelled by sheer panic at the topic – causes the group of guys to let out a loud
oooohhhh
sound.

“Dang,” Mike says.

“Shot down,” Chase adds.

“You can’t say I’m shot down when I didn’t even ask.” Kole’s comment is sharper than the fresh blade that nicked my shin while I shaved this morning. I stand there like a zombie who just had a rod thrust right through her chest. Stinging heat seeps into the crevices around my ribs. I want to groan in response but wait in tortured silence instead.

Eyes shift, but no one speaks another word. They just stand there looking as pain-ridden as I feel.

“I better get to class,” I say, and dart down the hall. I rub my nose, willing the tears not to surface. It’s stupid to be upset. It’s not like Kole and I are going out. We’re just friends. But I’m positive – even as the thought runs through my mind – that they all know I want more from Kole. Mike knows. Chase knows. Even Clueless Cal – their on-again-off-again friend –– knows; a guy who still doesn’t know Shannon Shuester has been in love with him since the third grade. Which only means one thing: Kole knows too.

My heart kicks into an anxious, clanking beat. My palms break out in a sweat. Kole knows that I like him. He totally knows.

But why is that so wrong? Can’t that piece of information possibly work
for
me in some way? Is it insane to think Kole might be a little curious about me too? About whether or not he and I could be a thing?  I think back on Chase’s question. He asked about the Christmas
festivities
, not the dance in particular, but we all know what he meant. I hear my reply echoing in my mind, “
definitely not”
and cringe, giving myself a mental palm slap to the head. What is wrong with me?

That question plagues me all through biology. Something that does not escape Cassie. “Just tell me what’s bothering you,” she pleads while squeezing sanitizer into her palm. “Maybe I can help.”

I feel bad for not confiding in Cassie. The truth is, Cassie and I are a duo that used to be a trio. And when Meg (our third member) moved to Chicago, things kind of fell flat. Cassie was closer to Meg; I was closer to Meg; without the common factor there isn’t much there. So we just go on day-to-day and sort of … fake it. What else can we do?

“Tiff got asked to the Christmas dance last night,” I venture, doubting she’ll even get why I care.

Cassie stops rubbing her hands together and looks at me. She pulls a face that looks just like Meg, only it’s framed with red hair instead of black. “I totally get it. I would
hate
it if I had sisters who were always getting asked out all the time.”

“Right?” I say, encouraged. “It’s annoying.”

“Was it Evan?”

I nod. “Of course. And she acted all surprised even though she’d just been saying she thought he was going to ask her – seriously like, two minutes before the doorbell rang.”

“Ah-noying.”

“Very.” I smile inside. Maybe Cassie and I are more alike than I think.

“You know what,” I say as we near the lockers. I try to ignore the fact that she’s putting on her third application of sanitizer and look her in the eye because what I’m about to say could possibly rescue me from weeks of depression. “If neither of us have dates for the Christmas dance, we should totally do something together that night. Like, go on a fast food shopping spree and stuff our faces while watching horror movies.”

I’m getting into the idea already. Forget about wishing and hoping and praying that Kole will ask me to the dance. I’ll have plans of my own. Plans that will put that baseball-playing, sarcasm-saying, dimple-wearing, Dorito-sharing Kole out of my…

“I got asked last night.”

Sometimes on TV shows a party is happening and when the fun comes to an abrupt halt, the loud screech of a record sounds. My own mental party has just come to an end, and I swear I can hear that very sound echoing in my head.

There should be a word that encompasses both jealousy and anger because I am feeling them both in equal amounts.
Janger!

I force my janger aside and hide behind the growing curiosity within my short, jangerous frame. “By who?”

“Chase.”

Whoa
. “Chase? Chase Daniels? Kole’s friend?”

“Yeah.”

I can feel my eyes bulging right out of my skull. I know I look nuts but I can’t help it. I
feel
nuts. This can’t be real. Slacking, slouching, moping, mumbling Chase Daniels has managed to get off his pant-sagging butt and ask someone to the Christmas dance? I’m stunned. How did this happen?

It comes to my attention that Cassie is looking very uncomfortable. Did
I
do that?

“Oh,” I blurt. “This is so exciting. Come here.” I squeal like the girl I am supposed to be in this moment. The super-excited, ultra-supportive, happy-for-my-friend girl.

“Right?” Cassie says with a laugh. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice the forced nature of my efforts. Someone in the crowded hall sneezes as they walk by and Cassie covers her mouth in horror, her eyes wide as she looks at me. I know she wants to avoid sneeze-boy’s germs, so I tap my foot until she thinks the appropriate amount of time has gone by.

“Want to help me answer him tonight?” she finally asks through cupped hands.

“Tonight?” Is it possible for my eyes to get any wider? I force myself to spit out the exact opposite of what I’m feeling. “I’d love to! Oh, and I’m such a jerk – I forgot to ask: how did he ask you?”

Cassie looks over her shoulder before dropping her hands. She’s all smiles as she relays the details. A bag of take-out with a note pinned to the front. ‘
This may sound cheesy, but I’ll die if you don’t come to the Christmas dance with me.’
Inside was – you guessed it – a cheeseburger. Oh, and an order of fries because without those, what would Chase write his name on? And he didn’t take an actual Sharpie to just one french fry. He wrote the letters on separate fries, which means at least five of the bunch were too tainted to eat.

“So… do you have anything in mind? Of how you want to answer him back, I mean.”

Cassie shoves her hand sanitizer back into her jacket pocket. “I should probably stick with the fast food theme… I thought maybe I could get him a shake and say like,
‘I can’t wait to shake the night away with you.’”

“You could,” I say, “but I think you’re supposed to like, make him look for the answer, like he had you look for the name, you know? At least that’s how my sisters do it.” I hate to put a damper on things, but I kind of know how this works by now. “Don’t worry,” I say, spotting Kole down the hall. His eyes are doing that thing they do when he knows something I don’t. “We’ll think of something. I better run.”

I try not to be too obvious as I dart across the hall. “Hey,” I holler, catching up with him as he moves. Thayne Hinders bumps my shoulder with one of his beefy gorilla arms, knocking me back a foot.

Kole spins around. “You okay?”

A rush of heat pools into my face as he holds my gaze. “Yeah.”

“That guy’s such a d-bag.”

“Yeah.” I say again.

Kole motions for us to walk, so I do. “Did you hear the news?” he asks.

“You mean that Chase asked Cassie to the dance?”

He grins. “Is she going to say yes?”

I like that smile on him. It isn’t his greeting smile or the one he flashes after a good laugh. It’s not his teasing smile either, which is definitely one of my favorites. It’s his famous I’m-going-to-get-my-way-and-I-know-it smile. Because let’s face it – Kole could probably pry anything out of me.

“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” I say.

“I don’t know…” Kole decreases his pace in the crowded hall. “Hearing about all the excitement of Chase asking Cassie, I’m starting to feel a little left out.”

I stop walking and grab his arm, making him stop too. It feels like the entire world has ceased to move at the sound of his words. “What do you mean?” My palms start to sweat – just like that my palms are reacting to his words and I don’t even know what he means by them.

“Just that, hearing about Chase asking her. Evan asking your sister.” He shrugs. “I’m starting to think we might be missing out on something. You know?”

Yes yes yes. Do pigs squeal? Do ostriches hide their tiny heads in the sand? Will Thayne look like the hunch back of Notre Dame by the time he’s twenty?
“Kind of,” I say with a shrug.

“Ooh, ho, ho! Looks like someone’s standing beneath the mistletoe,” Mike yells from clear down the hall. I glance up and see a small cluster of red and green hovering right over our heads. That must mean we’re next to the – I look to my left for confirmation; yes – the trophy case. My heart bursts into an uncontrollable spasm. My legs feel weak and jelly-like.

Several of the students have already filtered out to their busses or cars in the wet, miserable slush. But
I
am here, warm and dry, standing beneath a dangling sprig of mistletoe with none other than Kole Kingston before me.

I have mentally cursed the neighbor kid who keeps hanging the mistletoe next to the trophy case. I have shot daggers out of my eyes at him for having to witness all the couples who’ve stopped to make-out between classes. But in this moment I take it all back.
Tony Anchorman, I love you, your awkward cousin, and your ugly cat too.

I tell myself to not mess this up. I cannot mess it up. I have waited my entire life for this very moment. I’ve tried to stage scenarios like this time and time again and failed miserably. And here this one has fallen right into my lap. Principal Jessop herself could not stop this from happening.

Kole holds my gaze, giving me that I-guess-there’s-no-getting-out-of-this look.

Oh, how right you are.

I shrug in return with just one shoulder and shuffle closer to him. The smell of his spicy cologne hovers like cupid dust in the space between us. I lick my lips, grateful I can still taste mint from the candy I swiped in class. 

His hand finds my hip. Holy moly, his hand is on my hip! Warm and solid and pulling me closer. My face feels hot. Chaos erupts in my heart. I look down, willing myself not to hyperventilate.

The standard oohs and ahhs are sounding in the hallway, and I secretly relish being the recipient of those for once in my life. I force myself to look up at his face. Hints of gold are reflected in the warm brown of his eyes, but that’s not what makes them so captivating. It’s the smoldering heat I see there.

Kole looks down at my lips.

Oh, yes please.

He lowers his head, tilting slightly to one side.

Mm hmm.

I press up on my toes the tiniest bit.

Ready.

He moves in, closing the gap until our lips touch. The slightest, softest, most exquisite pleasure I’ve ever felt. I sigh, part my lips just a tiny bit and –

“Guys!” It’s Cassie’s voice that shatters the spell. “You guys are not going to believe it.”

Kole pulls away, searches my face with an expression I recognize but can’t for-the-life-of-me place in the dreaded moment.

“Meg is coming into town and…” She dies off there. I look down at my hands and twist my fingers and focus on the feel of Kole’s hand on my waist, the one thing that lets me know this moment is real. I just kissed Kole Kingston.

It was more of a tease, with as lightly as our lips touched. We barely even began and then it was gone. But I’m still counting it. Kole kissed me. Our lips touched; the moment has already been etched into that secret corner in my heart – Kole’s corner – where it will stay forever and ever.

“What did I miss?” Cassie’s question seems to make it official. The spectators groan and scatter. Kole’s hand drops like my skin has suddenly burst into flames. I turn around to see his friends hovered around a very frightened-looking Cassie.

I’m sorry,
she mouths.
I didn’t see you guys.

Kole leans toward me, bringing his mouth to my ear.

“To be continued,” he says in a gruff, low whisper.

My skin may not have burst into flames earlier, but at Kole’s uttered words, my insides do. And as he walks away, glancing over one shoulder before stepping out onto the snow-covered ground, I’m left with one very important question: Which part will be continued – the conversation, or the kiss?