by Wendy Loggia
I don’t need to be asked twice. I climb onto the toboggan and hold on to the side. Charlie picks up the rope and begins to stride back up the mountain, pulling me along.
A few people look at us and smile. They probably think Charlie is my boyfriend. After all, it’s a very boyfriend thing to do. I decide I’m being silly, questioning whether Charlie thinks we could be a couple. We totally could! Being friends doesn’t mean I’ve been dumped in the friend zone. Friendship is the foundation of every good relationship.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask as we make our way uphill. I know Charlie has to be as tired as I am, and pulling me uphill isn’t easy.
Or, at least, it shouldn’t be. But Charlie barely breaks a sweat as he hauls me up the hill. In fact, he’s humming carols.
“I’m having snow much fun,” he calls over his shoulder. A broad, strong shoulder.
I giggle. “I guess that means I’m just along for the ride.” I wish I had my phone to take a photo of this right now—me, Bailey Briggs, being pulled up a snowy hill by a cute boy—so I could show all my friends. But I left my phone in the car—I didn’t want to risk smashing it or losing it.
I sigh, settling back in the sled. I’ll just have to remember this moment. Not that I am likely to forget it. I feel giddy, like I’ve sucked too much helium out of a party balloon. Every time Charlie looks at me, my cheeks warm up. Every time he says something to me, I feel happy. Thankfully I don’t see anyone I know here because it would be embarrassing for someone to see me like this. Although, on the other hand, I wouldn’t exactly mind if someone from school saw me with someone as attractive as Charlie. It would definitely be a reputation booster.
I mean, who hasn’t had a fantasy British boyfriend—and here he is. It’s happening to me IRL!
When we reach the top, Adelaide and Garrett are thankfully right where we’d left them. I am about to tell them that it’s time to go, when Charlie rests his hands on their shoulders. “Who wants to go again?”
I blink from where I still sit in the toboggan. Is he serious? “We do!” they yell. “Will you pull us up the hill like you did with Bailey?” Adelaide asks.
I am about to tell them no, when Charlie extends his hand and pulls me to my feet. “Only if you promise we can go really fast this time.”
* * *
• • •
By the time we leave, the sun is beginning to set. We’re all cold and damp and ready to shed our layers for dry clothes and food. Charlie walks us to the Parkers’ SUV—they let me drive it since it has the car seats—and after helping me put the saucers in the back and get the kids buckled up in the car seats, we’re saying our goodbyes.
“I had fun today,” Charlie says. “Thanks for hanging out with me.”
“Thanks for hanging out with us,” I say, tilting my head toward the kids. Thankfully the door is shut so they can’t hear us. “I’m a little worried that Garrett’s going to tell his parents to call you the next time they need a sitter.”
“Totally down for that,” he says. “I love kids. More than most adults, actually. Kids just want to have fun.”
I nod. “I can relate. And thanks for saving my life. That saucer was out of control.”
He laughs. “Keeping you safe in all situations—the motto I live by.” He puts his hand on the car and leans toward me. “I’m not sure if now’s the right time, but there’s something I—”
Bang, bang, bang. Garrett is pounding on the window. “My feet are cold,” he wails from behind the glass. “Can we go?”
I let out a silent groan.
“Ahhh, another time, Bailey. You heard the man,” Charlie says. He gives Garrett a window fist-bump. “Later, gators.” Shooting me one last smile, he walks off.
I open the door and slide into my seat, my heart racing. If the kids hadn’t been in the back, I think maybe he would have asked me out. Thanks a lot, guys, I think as I pull onto the road, resisting the urge to shoot them a dirty look in the mirror.
“Your phone is ringing,” Garrett says as we sit at a red light.
“Yeah, I hear it. That’s okay, we can let it go—”
“Hello?”
My eyes race up into the rearview mirror. Garrett has fished into my bag, pulled out my phone, and is now holding it up to his ear. “Garrett,” I moan. “It’s probably spam—”
He holds up the phone. “Nuh-uh. It’s a boy. Jacob.”
“What?” I mouth, shaking my head. “I can’t talk to him right now,” I say, feeling all kinds of flustered.
“She’s driving and she can’t talk to you,” Garrett says into the phone. Then he giggles. “Yeah. My babysitter. Uh-huh.”
“Is Jacob your other boyfriend?” Adelaide asks, kicking her legs back and forth.
“No!” I shush her, hoping Jacob hasn’t heard that.
Garrett is holding my phone close to his ear like he’s a CIA operative getting his next mission. OMG. What is Jacob saying to him? “Tell Jacob I will call him back later,” I say firmly. “You need to tell him bye.”
But Garrett listens some more. “He wants to know if you are free tomorrow afternoon.”
Tell me this isn’t happening. That I don’t have a second grader as a romantic go-between. “What?”
“He wants to know if—”
I shake my head. “No, I heard you, Garrett.” My hands are clutching the steering wheel so hard I think my knuckles might crack. I reach over and turn the heat down. It’s suddenly very hot in this car.
“She’s free!” Adelaide yells, giggling. “Bailey’s free. Bailey’s free,” she singsongs.
After what seems like an eternity, Garrett ends the call. “He said he’ll pick you up at one tomorrow.”
“Oh, really?” I ask lightly. I’m not used to having one boy like me…and now is it possible that I have two?
Garrett drops the phone back in my bag. “Are all your friends boys?”
I let out a laugh. “No, not all of them.” Is that what Jacob is—and Charlie? Friends? Is that what I want them to be?
Charlie and I had a great time today. When we weren’t zooming down the hill, we were talking, and I found him so easy to open up to. I told him about my family and my friends, and he seemed really interested in everything I had to say. It doesn’t hurt that he’s so good-looking, with his gentle eyes, high cheekbones, broad shoulders, and awesome style. And he did call it a date.
But then I think about Jacob. If Charlie is the mysterious stranger, Jacob is the boring, regular guy from my school. Yet for a boring guy, we’ve had pretty good conversations too. Jacob is a lot funnier than I ever expected, and he has a soft side. He isn’t as sophisticated or as pretty as Charlie—he’s a rough-around-the-edges type of guy. His hair is a little too messy, his nose a bit too big, his laugh louder than I’d like. But he is 100 percent comfortable in his own skin. He makes me smile and I like being with him. And he has a way of looking at me that makes my heart do little flip-flops, whether I want to acknowledge the flips or not.
I’d wanted a boy to kiss under the mistletoe for Christmas. If things keep going well, maybe it will actually happen.
But if I get my wish…which boy will it be?
When Jacob texts from outside my house Sunday afternoon to let me know he’s here, I still have no idea where we’re going. He was very cryptic when I texted him last night. All he told me was to dress warmly and wear gloves, and that we’d be gone about three hours. He confirmed that we weren’t going sledding, skiing, or anything requiring rented equipment, so honestly I was a little stumped.
“There she is,” he says as I walk out of my house. He’s waiting next to the passenger door of his pickup truck. He has on a pair of rugged-looking khaki pants, a black hooded jacket, and a gray wool beanie. Little pieces of hair peek out from under the hat, which I find oddly appealing. He has a winter lumbe
rjack vibe going on, and I have to admit: I like it.
“Oh. Thanks,” I say, suddenly feeling shy as he opens the door for me. I resist the urge to turn around to see if my mom and Karolyn are watching out the window like the dorks they are. Jacob and I are apparently on the same lumberjack wavelength. I’m wearing dark skinny jeans, a flannel, a dark brown fisherman’s cable knit sweater that weighs about twenty pounds, and my fur-lined Timberland boots. I want to be warm—but I also like to look cute.
As I slide into the cab of his truck, my phone buzzes. Karolyn has sent me a Snapchat of Jacob holding open the door as I got into the truck, with a heart filter and a caption written over the photo: …Swooooooooooooooon.
I quickly type back hahahahaha and toss my phone into my shoulder bag like it’s a radioactive potato.
Sam Hunt is on the radio and warm air is blasting from the vents. “I made us hot tea,” Jacob says after he walks around the back and gets in. He gestures to the two large black-lidded cups in the cupholder. “Hope you like Lipton.”
“Fancy,” I say, bucking my seat belt. At this time of the year, I’m more of a peppermint person, but I have never had a boy make me tea before. I’m not about to complain. It’s cold out today, with a harsh wind, but inside Jacob’s truck it feels like a cozy hideaway. He even has wool blankets rolled up on the seat. Are we going for a winter picnic?
Jacob puts his hand on my arm. “Wait—before you get too comfortable. Do you want to bring your dog?”
I look back at him in surprise. “Dickens? Are you serious?”
He nods. “I think he’ll like where we’re going. I would have brought Wags if he was still here.”
“I am always okay with adding dogs. Give me a sec.” I run back into the house, my boots thudding along the hardwood floor, and scoop Dickens up from his bed. “Want to go for a ride, D?” His eyes light up and his tail starts wagging. I find his leash, a bowl for water, and some poop bags. He’s already wearing a sweater with a soft red lining.
“Mom, do you mind if Jacob and I take Dickens?” I shout, not sure where she is. “He says it’s a dog-appropriate place,” I add.
My mom is more than happy about this. “It’s good for him to get some fresh air and it’s also nice for someone besides me to take him out,” she says, coming up from the basement. She kisses the tip of my nose and then kisses Dickens on the head. “Have fun!”
When I come back out, Jacob is waiting outside my door again. He pats Dickens on the back and holds the door open so I can climb back in the truck.
“Is he a West Highland terrier?” Jacob asks as we start driving.
I nod. “He’s a purebred. He comes from a long line of show dogs.”
“Impressive. And clearly he’s a trendsetter,” he says, pointing to Dickens’s Christmas sweater.
Dickens puts his fluffy front paws on the windowsill to look out and I wrap my arm around his belly to keep him from sliding. “So, where are we going?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“I could tell you but you might just want to be surprised,” he says, looking over at me. His upper lip twitches—and where before I might have thought it was some kind of arrogant jock thing, now that we’ve gotten to know one another a little, it’s honestly attractive. “Not many surprises in life anymore, you know. You might want to take advantage of this opportunity.”
“Okay, fine.” I settle back in my seat and pick up the cup. “So what’d you do this weekend?”
“Went to a basketball game in Clark with some of my friends on Friday night. Did a workout. Yesterday I made some extra money by going out and shoveling snow for people on my block.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” I say, taking a careful sip from the cup. The tea makes me feel instantly toasty. “How’d you do?”
“Sixty bucks. Not bad.”
“Funny, that’s what I made yesterday babysitting,” I tell him. But then I feel a little hitch in my chest and wish I could take the words back. Because right now I don’t want to think about my time sledding with Charlie. I’d had a great time but I’m having a good time now, with Jacob. Am I a bad person because I’m having fun with two different boys?
I decide I’m not. I shake off the unwanted feelings of guilt and focus on the here and now. Charlie’s twinkling eyes and high cheekbones are yesterday’s news.
Today I am going to concentrate on Jacob.
“So you work at the bookstore and you volunteer and you babysit and you get good grades in school,” Jacob rattles off, shaking his head bemusedly. “Do you make time for fun?”
“Yes, I make time for fun,” I say, feeling defensive. “It’s fun when you help someone find the book they’re looking for when all they can remember is that it’s got a blue cover and it’s about a woman who solves a mystery on a cruise ship. And I have fun helping people pick out wrapping paper and making the bows pretty and stuff,” I say. I’m on a roll now. “Little kids are really funny—sometimes I’d rather hang out with them than people our age. And if I didn’t do well in school, I wouldn’t feel like going out and having fun anyway,” I finish, taking a gulp of air. “So yep, see? Lots of fun going on.”
Jacob gives me a doubtful glance. “I think we have different ideas of fun, Bailey,” he says finally, taking a drink of his tea. His words sting a bit…maybe because I have a hunch he might be more interesting than I am.
I know I don’t have a reputation as being a wild and crazy party girl at school, but maybe what I do have is worse. I don’t have a reputation…at all. I have a feeling that to guys like Jacob—guys who are friendly and outgoing and athletic and make friends wherever they go—I probably come across as almost, well, boring. I make a mental checklist. I bake, I work in a bookstore, I take care of small children—I sigh. All I need are a couple cats and some knitting needles.
“I’m having fun now,” I say in a small voice.
Jacob smiles. “Good. Me too.”
“Good,” I say back with a firm nod. “Maybe we should switch the channel.” I point to the radio dial, trying to change the subject. For the past minute, all that’s been coming out of the speakers was a garbled talk show.
Jacob fools around with the knob and “Dominic the Donkey” comes on. “Ahhh, I hate this song,” he mutters, reaching back for the dial.
“No!” My hand shoots out and my fingers wrap around his wrist. “No, leave it!”
He gives me an incredulous look. “Don’t tell me you actually like this song?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I nod. “I like all Christmas songs. Especially ones about little donkeys that help Santa Claus climb the hills of Italy.”
Jacob chuckles. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess I have to leave it. I didn’t know what it was about. I guess I always turn it off.” We listen to the entire song and then “Mele Kalikimaka” comes on. Jacob looks at me and we both burst out laughing. “I suppose you love this one too,” he says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.
“Well, it is Hawaii’s way of saying Merry Christmas to us,” I tell him, shrugging. “And it is green and bright…”
He holds up his hands and then puts them back on the wheel. “Okay. Since you’re riding shotgun, you can be in charge of the music.”
I rub my gloved hands together. “DJ Bailey in the house.”
No matter what Jacob and I do today, I want it to be festive and fun. I can’t control where we’re going or what we do, but I can make sure the tunes we listen to put us in a happy holiday vibe.
So any song that features Santa or tinsel or peace on Earth? I’m all in. And if it has sleigh bells? Forget it!
We drive along for a while, sipping our tea and listening to the radio. Snowflakes land on the windshield, and the whoosh, whoosh of the wipers lulls me into a semi-stupor. We pass the entrance to the highway and head north, driving by gas stations and restaurants and churches. I’m gett
ing even more curious about where we’re going. Dickens is curled up in my lap, snoring lightly.
Soon Jacob turns off the main drag and onto a single-lane road that twists and turns. Large houses set far back on their properties dot the wintry landscape, and we pass a couple horse farms. I even spot a few farms and silos. We are definitely in the country. “We’re getting closer,” Jacob promises as the truck slows down. He sounds excited.
We pass a thicket of gigantic pine trees, their branches weighed down with snow. Jacob points out my window. A painted wooden sign with large red letters on my side of the road says:
MARLEYS’ CHRISTMAS TREE FARM
Wait a hot minute. Marleys’ Christmas Tree Farm? Is that just a coincidence? I hold on to Dickens as we turn in to the lot, the Ford’s tires bumping over frozen mud. “A tree farm?” I exclaim, looking at him and then out at the scene in front of me. “This is so cool!” There’s a large green barnlike building where groups of people are congregating. Jacob pulls over and parks the truck in a muddy makeshift parking area.
“I thought you’d like it,” Jacob says as we get out. I put Dickens on the ground. He shakes his body and begins trotting, sniffing the ground. “This way,” Jacob says, heading in the direction of the barn.
“Aren’t you working today?” an older man in a blue baseball cap, sweatshirt, and faded jeans yells over to us as he and a boy around our age tie a tree on top of an SUV. The young family who had purchased it looks excited.
“I took this weekend off, Uncle Billy,” Jacob calls over.
The man shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips, where a giant ring of keys jingles when he walks. “How you managed to talk your mom into that, I’ll never know.”
So it isn’t a coincidence. “Hold up. You work here…and so does your uncle? And your mom? And it’s called Marleys’?”
Jacob cracks his knuckles and gives me a sidelong grin. “That’s a lot of ands.”
“And,” I say, “that’s a lot of trees.” We pause next to the barn, looking down into a picture-perfect winter scene. Snow is falling softly, and people are milling about in winter coats and hats. In the distance are hundreds and hundreds of pine trees. I inhale a deep breath of fresh, piney air. “It’s like Christmas on steroids!” I blurt out, grabbing his hand.