“Shit.” He scanned the people passing by on the street. Danny was looking for something, divine intervention. They didn’t have time to walk to her grandma’s house and get back to the town hall. “You can run, right?” he asked Elda.
“Better than you right now, probably.”
“Touché.” He reached for his jacket under the counter. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You run to the town hall. Tell my brother Brian to take his car, pick up Holly’s showstopper from her garage, and bring it to the competition as fast as he can. Then you stick around and stall the mayor for as long as possible—make something up.”
Elda clapped. “Now this is a plan I can get behind.”
“Dinesh,” Danny said, “I need you to stay here and watch the shop until my mom gets here in a few minutes.” He zipped up his hoodie. His body wanted to bolt, to run as fast as humanly possible over to Holly’s grandma’s house. A clock ticked in his head. They’d already wasted too much time, and he had a set of crutches slowing him down.
“What are you going to do?” Dinesh asked as Elda bolted for the door.
Danny pulled the hood over his head. “I’m going to get Holly, obviously.” As soon as he said it, he felt his lips pull into a grin.
Dinesh shot him a thumbs-up, and Danny scurried out the door. He was finally going to “meet” his dream girl.
…
Holly turned off the TV as soon as her family left the house. She couldn’t find the remote, and she was not going to sit here in solitude and listen to Fox News talk about the war on Christmas. She flicked one of the metallic red balls on the tiny Christmas tree the family had set up on the coffee table in the living room. Christmas seemed to be doing just fine.
She grabbed Grandma’s day planner and hauled it into the den off the kitchen. She took Grandma’s spot at the desk and opened the cover. Holly hadn’t spent as much time looking at this as she’d planned. She and Elda had done most of the things Grandma had scheduled for December, but it had become less about honoring her memory and more about just having fun in North Pole with Danny.
Holly glanced over at Danny’s house. It was dark. She checked the cuckoo clock on the wall. Three-fifty. The gingerbread contest would start in ten minutes.
She couldn’t blame Danny for not texting her back last night. She was an utter failure when it came to romance. Maybe someday she’d find someone who’d be able to deal with it, but today was not that day.
After flipping through the music on her phone, Holly slipped on her headphones and turned the volume all the way up, losing herself in Taylor Swift’s own personal melodramas. TS was Holly’s go-to broken heart playlist. She thumbed through the pages in Grandma’s calendar. It was a symbol of the impermanence of life. Holly was only eighteen years old, and already she was being forced to say good-bye to her grandmother, this house, this town, and a perfect dream life she’d created in her mind.
She’d cried about her grandmother after she died, of course; but in public, she’d always tell the story with a smile and detached pride about how Grandma died. “She was lying by the pool in California with a Moscow Mule in her hand. So badass.”
It was badass. And it was awesome that her grandma didn’t suffer, that she’d lived a long life, that she’d stayed healthy and was able to enjoy life until her last day. But it so, so fucking sucked that Holly didn’t get to say good-bye. And it so, so, so fucking sucked that Holly was such a failure as a granddaughter, especially now that she knew her grandmother had been bragging about her to her friends and trying to set her up with the incredibly cute boy next door. Holly could’ve made the time to visit North Pole. She could’ve asked her grandma more questions about her life and her past. But she hadn’t. Not because she didn’t care, but because she’d gotten so used to cutting herself off from people. It had become such a habit that she even managed to cut off her grandma, one of her favorite people on the planet.
Grandma should’ve died knowing for sure how much Holly cared about her. Holly should’ve told her. Now it was too late.
And here she was, repeating the same mistakes, just on a smaller scale.
She wasn’t silly enough to think that she and Danny Garland were meant-to-be or some nonsense, but, still, his existence had profoundly affected her life. He was the one, indirectly, who got her thinking about studying architecture as a career. Now that they were older, he was one of the few people on the planet who understood her, and who wanted to understand her. She’d screwed that up, as well.
And now she was sitting here alone, blowing out her eardrums, avoiding Danny again. The final round of the competition was starting. A tear rolled down her cheek. He deserved to win again, and he deserved happiness. It was what she’d been trying to bring him all along.
Resolved, she stood and pushed her grandma’s chair back in. She turned up the volume on one of Taylor Swift’s more powerful anthems, letting the music fill her. She’d go watch Danny win. She’d cheer him on and expect nothing in return, but she’d show him definitively how much he meant to her, how much she truly hoped he was happy. She couldn’t leave North Pole without him knowing.
With the music still pumping, Holly pulled on a pair of shoes and a jacket and opened the front door. Danny Garland, mid-knock, nearly fell right into her arms.
And Holly nearly fell into his. Her knees faltered, but she managed to step backward. She ripped off her headphones, and a ringing filled her ears. She could hear the blood pulsing through her body.
“I’ve been knocking forever,” he said.
Oh my God, was he cute. The two of them might never be this close again. He was leaning forward, his hands gripping the handles of his crutches, and he had a slightly crooked smile on his lips. His sky-blue eyes, however, betrayed his nervousness. Holly was pretty sure hers did, too.
“I was listening to music.” She said that too loudly. Her ears were still recovering from Taylor Swift’s voice blasting against her brain.
Danny was still smiling at her. He shouldn’t be smiling at her.
She dragged her eyes away from his lips and focused on her grandma’s old mailbox off in the distance. “Danny, I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“But I want to say it.” She still couldn’t look at him. This was uncharted territory for Holly Page.