It was truly a testament to the cavernous acoustics of the dining room that no one appeared to have heard my outburst.
“The wee sister doth protest too much, methinks,” Dusty drawled archly.
“Can it, Shakespeare,” I snarled.
It was going to be a very long night.
I realize that eating a twelve-course dinner doesn’t exactly qualify as a hardship. But eating a twelve-course dinner while encrusted with dried mud and slowly freezing to death under a particularly pernicious draft was not one of the highlights of my existence. I was much happier now that dinner was over and I was safely tucked up in bed. If TRC had expected either drama or hilarity to ensue by encouraging Dusty to dress up like a delusional Barbie and dragging me through the mud, they must have been sorely disappointed. The only moderately interesting incident at dinner had occurred when Kit Kirby reenacted parts of Pippin with a Cornish game hen. That strange, short man was headed straight for his very own spin-off series. Keepin’ It Kirby, or something like that. Heaven would definitely DVR that one.
Heaven. Man, I wished Heaven were here. Jamie had turned out to be a surprisingly fun partner in crime, but I couldn’t exactly talk to Jamie about Jamie, now could I? Because as much as I had protested to Dusty…I did want to talk about Jamie. Desperately. Just not with Dusty, who loved to tease me about my perpetually single state and had only ever dated football players and prom kings and, you know, a right honorable lord or whatever. She would never understand Jamie.
I wondered if Heaven would think he was weird. Probably. But there was good weird and bad weird, and Jamie was definitely good weird. I liked that I never knew what he was going to say next. I liked that he looked for trapdoors. I liked that he made me laugh over salmon rillettes. Hell, I just plain liked him. Which was not something I had said out loud to a boy since Andy Chan told me I was stinky and gross in fourth grade. I could barely even bring myself to think that I liked Jamie, totally alone with only Teddy for company.
Although…A horrifying thought drifted along. Did everyone know I liked him? Dusty did. Oh God. Did that mean Jamie knew I liked him? Too humiliating to contemplate.
I burrowed deeper under the blankets, willing myself to emanate more body heat. After a hot shower followed by a long soak in a deep porcelain tub with actual claw feet, I was thoroughly de-mudded, but cold once again, thanks to my still-wet hair. Normally I never bothered with a hair dryer, but I was sure wishing I had one right now. Not that I wanted one badly enough to go ask Dusty for hers. Firstly, I had no idea where in this maze of a castle she was staying; secondly, she would undoubtedly tease me for attempting uncharacteristically girly things with a hair dryer; and thirdly, I definitely did not want to interrupt any nocturnal activities that she and Ronan may or may not have been participating in.
Was Dusty right? Did Jamie like me? He certainly seemed to like spending time with me. But the options here were somewhat limited. Ronan was on Planet Mush with Dusty, and Kit Kirby was a giant drunk baby with no concept of time. And if I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t sure what was scarier: if Jamie didn’t like me…or if he did.
Knock-knock-kna-knock-knock-knock.
“Hello?” I whispered, drawing the covers up to my neck. Who could possibly be at the door? As always, I had absolutely no idea what time it was, but it felt late. Like the middle of the night.
“Do you want to build a snowman?”
I slipped out of bed and nearly jumped in shock as my feet touched the icy floor. Somehow the cold managed to cut through my penguin socks. I slid closer to the door.
“Come on, let’s go and play.”
“Jamie?” I asked. Who else would it have been? I mean, I guess it could have been Ronan with a new phase in Operation: Wee Sister. Although I doubted Ronan could have gotten through any of “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” without bursting into tears.
“I never see you anymore.”
“You saw me at dinner.” Definitely Jamie. Ronan would have had much more rumbly Scottish Rs.
“Come out the door. It’s like you’ve gone awaaaaay!”
I pulled the door open. Jamie’s mouth was still opened in a wide “aaaay.”
“Um, hi.”
“Hello there.” He grinned.
“This is a bit of a change from E. E. Cummings.”
“Poetry comes in many forms, Dylan.”
“Are you wearing a pajama suit?” I asked incredulously. He looked like he’d wandered straight out of Peter Pan. I didn’t think people actually wore those things anymore.
“Naturally. I’m not an animal.”
“This is, like, a whole matching…thing.” Unless I was mistaken, the trim of his navy pajamas matched the tartan of his bathrobe. He was more coordinated for sleep than I usually was for a school day.
“If you’re referring to my dressing gown, I can assure you, it is essential when navigating these drafty halls.”
“You just look a little formal, that’s all.”
“The various elements of my ensemble are certainly no more ludicrous than those creatures cavorting about on your trousers.”
“I’m actually wearing three different pairs of pants right now. And that creature is Tweety Bird. And these were a gift from my meemaw. And I would really prefer to go back to discussing your pajama situation.”
“Or we could simply cease discussing pajamas altogether.”
“Deal.”
I stuck out my hand.
“The Pajama Amnesty Accord of Dunyvaig Castle is hereby consecrated.”
We shook, Jamie gripping my fingers firmly, holding on just a bit longer than was normal—or was that just my imagination? Or was I the one who was holding on too long? Quickly, I dropped his hand like it had scalded me. Now that I had admitted to myself—and to Teddy—that I actually liked Jamie, I was insanely paranoid that he would discover it. How did anyone actually maneuver into becoming someone’s girlfriend? It seemed impossible. The whole process was littered with minefields of mortification. I’d done nothing but shake his hand, and my cheeks were burning like I’d jumped his bones on top of the mixed-berry pavlovas during dessert.
“Do you want to build a snowman, then?” he asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“Put on your shoes,” he commanded. “Quickly now.”
“Um, okay.” I retreated into my bedroom and grabbed a pair of half-destroyed Uggs that had once been Dusty’s. “Why am I putting my shoes on?”
“Because although you have declined to answer my question as of yet, the fact that you are pulling on those shapeless brown lumps confirms that you are not disinclined to build a snowman.”
“They’re Uggs. And they’re comfy,” I said. “Wait, are you serious about a snowman?”
“As serious as I was about that trapdoor.”
I caught a half smirk as Jamie turned and walked down the hallway, me following hot on his heels.
“Jamie. Wait. Jamie.” I reached out and tugged on his hand, and he stopped. “A snowman? Is it snowing?”
A grin broke out across his face, and I swear I felt something crack and melt inside my chest, like it was gonna warm me all the way through.
“I think it’s best if you see for yourself.”
He kept my hand tucked in his as we flew down the long, wide staircase with its maroon carpet. We made our way into the grand entrance hall, and Jamie pushed one of the enormous doors open just wide enough that we could slip through, then shut it behind us.
Everything outside had been transformed. Before, there had been nothing but gray and brown; now all I could see was sparkling white. The moon hung full and low in the sky, illuminating the grounds as they shimmered. In the distance I could barely make out the trees of the forest that comprised the edge of the estate; the lawn seemed limitless.
“I’ve never seen snow before,” I whispered.
Jamie took my hand again and led me down the stone steps to the lawn, my feet sinking into the snow. Marveling, I held
out my hand and watched the flakes land in my palm. When you looked closely, each one really did look like its own little star, more intricate than anything Heaven and I had cut out of construction paper in elementary school. I looked up, and all I saw was Jamie. A shock of dark hair falling into startlingly blue eyes framed by long, long lashes. He was so close, I could feel each puff of breath as he exhaled, a warm caress in the cold air. I tilted my head up to his, our noses nearly touching. I could hear his heart beat—or maybe it was mine—a gentle thud, thud in the otherwise silent night. Soft as a feather, he brushed his lips against mine, cold and cool, a whisper of a kiss.
“I’ve never been kissed before, either.”
If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. Although I could have killed myself for blurting that out.
“Good.” He smiled. “That way you’ll never know if I’m rubbish.”
He wasn’t rubbish. He was the opposite of rubbish. He kissed me again, more firmly this time, and it was like I melted into him. All the worries I’d had that when someone finally kissed me I wouldn’t know what to do vanished in an instant. It was like I’d been born to kiss Jamie…Jamie…I realized suddenly that I didn’t know his last name. Probably not a good thing. But did I care? Not in the slightest. Because Jamie was kissing me, his large hands pressed against my back like we were dancing, my hands somehow snaking around to feel the soft hairs at the back of his neck, and who knew that having someone else’s tongue in your mouth—which sounded so weird in theory—would be so perfect in real life.
We broke apart, and I looked up at him, hardly able to believe this was really happening.
“You have snow in your eyelashes, Dylan,” Jamie said matter-of-factly. He brushed a thumb against my cheek. “Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven.”
“What now?”
“It’s Yeats.”
“Shut up and kiss me, Yeats.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I thought it was a moment for poetry!”
“Na-unh.” I grabbed the lapels of his bathrobe. Now that Jamie had kissed me, it felt like there was nothing more to be embarrassed about. I could do anything, because I knew he liked me. I felt so fearless, like I was flying. Maybe you really could get high on life.
“I had always suspected you American women would be quite forward.”
“Less talking, more kissing.”
“So terribly forward.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Most decidedly not.”
Jamie crushed me into his chest as his lips found mine. He was definitely not complaining.
My eyes flicked open as a beam of light cut through the quiet darkness. I shut them again against the light, burying my face in Jamie’s neck. Mmm.
“Good God, Dylan, you’ve transported me to a higher plane. Should we go into the light? Are we dead?”
I smacked his arm. Light—Wait—
“Jamie!” I stood upright. Now was not the time for casual neck smelling, even if someone smelled tantalizingly of cinnamon, like a manly Christmas cookie. “It’s the show. Right? The camera crew. They must have followed us.”
I knew no one at TRC was particularly interested in filming me. But I’d watched enough reality TV to know that making out was always worthy of airtime, no matter how weird and gangly the participants were. And that was the last thing I wanted.
“Perhaps they haven’t found us quite yet,” he said grimly. “Come on, then!”
He grabbed my hand and started running toward the woods, away from the light. I looked behind me, to see if I spotted any cameras, but there was nothing other than that blinding beam of light.
“I really hope they didn’t see anything,” I murmured as we broke out of the driveway and turned right onto the road.
“Embarrassed by me, are you?” he asked lightly.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scolded. “I would just really rather not have my first kiss broadcast on national television. That seems like a special circle of humiliation hell.”
“It is somewhat inconceivable to me that two people who hold their privacy in such high regard have somehow ended up on a reality television program.”
“You and me both, buddy.”
For a moment there was no sound but the squeaky crunch of the snow beneath our feet. Not even so much as a chortle from a quail. The light that had startled me was long gone, too. If we’d outrun TRC, it didn’t seem smart to be running into a forest in the middle of a snowstorm.
“Should we head back?” I asked, yet made no move to slow down.
“Never fear, we’re almost there. Do you see the light?”
“What, from the show?” I looked back. “They can’t still be following us.”
“No, up ahead. From the barn. There. See?”
Blinking through the snow, I did, in fact, see a very faint light in the distance.
“Don’t worry, it’s closer than it appears,” he assured me.
He wasn’t wrong. Only a few minutes later, we turned off the road and plowed through the snow toward the light. I couldn’t believe how quickly it was piling up—it felt like we’d only been outside for minutes and the snow was already well past my ankles. With a deafening creak, Jamie wrenched open one of the enormous barn doors. The wind buffeted us inside, leaving a snowdrift at our feet as Jamie pulled the door closed behind him. We were greeted by a blast of warm air and the overpowering scent of horse.
“Wow.” I vigorously brushed snow off my arms and shook it out of my hair. “It’s warm. I can’t believe it.”
“They’ve always taken better care of the horses than the people here at Dunyvaig.”
Someone nickered softly in agreement from his stall.
“This is a huge barn.” We stood at one end of a long alley of stalls, under an enormous cavern of rafters. Everything was made of blond wood and illuminated by the soft golden glow of silver lamps hanging above each stall. I wandered closer to the first stall, lured by a snort and an insistent stamp of hooves.
“Ronan’s mum was quite the equestrienne in her day. She rode for Great Britain in the Olympics.”
“What? No she didn’t. That’s insane.”
“She did indeed. Didn’t medal, but she rode. Of course, she went on to be very involved in the movement to grant Scotland its own Olympic team, so I’m not entirely sure of her feelings on the Olympics at the moment.” Something settled onto my shoulders. Jamie had wrapped a plaid blanket around me. “Don’t worry, it’s clean.”
“How do you know?”
“I smelled it.”
“Very scientific. Thanks.” I pulled it tightly around me, closing it with one hand. Between the blanket and the heated barn, this was by far the warmest I’d been since I’d left Mississippi.
“Hey, girl,” I cooed softly at a large brown horse who’d leaned her head out of the stall to investigate us.
Jamie tapped a brass nameplate on the front of the stall door.
“Uh, boy,” I corrected myself. “Hey, boy. Wenceslas. That’s a hell of a name for a horse.”
“Must be a hell of a horse.”
“I love the way their noses feel.” I reached out a hand to stroke his nose. “So soft. Like velvet.” He nickered into my hand, blasting me with hot breath and probably just a little bit of horse snot. “Man, I wish I had an apple or some baby carrots or something. I love the way it feels when they pick food up out of your hand. It’s amazing that something so big can be so gentle.”
Jamie circled his arms around my waist, looking over my shoulder at the horse. I leaned back against him, watching Wenceslas blink his big brown eyes. Jamie pressed a soft kiss against the side of my neck, and my toes curled in my Uggs. Was this what it was like when you liked someone who liked you back? Was it really just this easy? That was what Dusty had said at dinner, after all. Maybe she had some idea of what she was talking about.
Honestly, though, it was hard to believe that any of this was real. The midnight knock on the door, the sn
ow, the kiss. I had a sinking suspicion that I’d wake up and find out that none of it had happened. Or even worse, that I’d wake up and return to my horribly awkward self and be unable to make eye contact with Jamie, let alone enjoy toe-curling neck kisses while cuddled in a horse blanket.
“The snow’s really coming down.” There was a small window in Wenceslas’s stall. Through it, I could see nothing but white.
“Erm, yes, I suppose it is,” he agreed.
“Should we go back?”
“I’m not sure that would be wise.” I looked up at him. A cute wrinkle sprang up between his eyebrows as he frowned. “I fear we’d strike out into the snow and be unable to find our way back to Dunyvaig.”
“So we just…stay here?” Leaving his embrace, I turned to face him.
“For the moment, I suppose.”
Stay here. For the moment. Totally alone. In a smelly yet somehow sort of romantic horse barn. Alone. With a boy. With Jamie. In the night.
“It wasn’t a terribly well-thought-out plan,” he continued, oblivious to the mental roller coaster I was riding. “I must admit, I didn’t think far beyond my attempt to rescue the beautiful girl from the clutches of the nefarious television producers.”
Beautiful?
“I can assure you,” he continued, “this wasn’t some sort of premeditated horse-barn seduction.”
“Follow-up to the international best sellers The Premeditated Trapdoor and The Premeditated Torch.”
“Unfortunately for The Premeditated Horse-Barn Seduction, it didn’t quite enjoy the critical success of its predecessors,” Jamie said seriously, his eyes dancing. “The adult content ruffled quite a few feathers in the literary world. Naturally.”
“Naturally,” I agreed.
“Honestly, Dylan”—he swallowed loudly—“it was never my intention to abduct you.”
“I know.”
“I’m glad. Because I…I quite like you.” He scratched the back of his neck self-consciously, looking up at the rafters, looking anywhere but at me. “And I’d like you to think well of me,” he mumbled.
“I do.” I reached out to touch his chin, and he turned the full force of those clear blue eyes on me. “And I quite like you, too,” I added shyly.
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