Snow in Love
Page 10
For the next hour, as Maxine worked the Christmas Corner alongside Avery, she felt some of her fury ebbing away. She and Avery actually made a solid team, he handing her a tube of wrapping paper just when she was reaching for it, she passing him the scissors before he could ask for them. It was Avery who kept the customers calm while Maxine hunted for hard-to-find items; once, after managing to quiet a bellowing grandpa with the right snow globe, the two of them exchanged a relieved grin, and Maxine felt a pang of regret over how she’d dismissed him earlier. Avery may have been studying acting in school, but, as Maxine observed him across the store—patiently listening to a panicked dad, saluting on command for a group of giggling girls—she realized that the sparkle in his blue-gray eyes and the warmth in his smile were entirely genuine.
Maxine was kneeling beneath the gift wrap counter, retrieving a Barton’s box and wondering if she should apologize to him, when Avery leaned over the counter.
“It’s, um, almost eight,” he said awkwardly, turning his boxy Nutcracker hat around and around in his hands. “I should—you know—”
“It’s okay,” Maxine said, getting to her feet. “Have a merry—”
“So, um, I guess I’ll see you,” Avery said abruptly, lifting one hand in farewell and backing off in a hurry.
He hates me, Maxine decided, watching him go. She wished she’d at least told him that he was maybe the only guy who could pull off looking that good in a Nutcracker costume. But now, considering he was headed home to Illinois for Christmas, she’d probably never see him again. Melancholy settled over Maxine like a dusting of snow, and she focused again on the line of impatient customers.
At five to nine, Sandy finally granted Maxine her freedom and, looking as though she were in pain, thanked her for a job well done. Instead of feeling footloose and festive, though, Maxine found herself fighting down a lump in her throat. Slowly, she changed out of her elf clothes for the very last time, slipped on her coat, hat, and scarf, and scooped up her messenger bag full of holiday gifts. She made her way through the silent ground level, and the security guard locked the door behind her as she stepped outside.
Good-bye, Barton’s.
Maxine stood by herself on Fifth Avenue, breathing in the wintry air. As she drew her coat collar up, she lifted her eyes to the giant twinkling snowflake, which, in the nighttime gloom, suddenly seemed very lonely. Or maybe that’s just me, Maxine thought, swallowing hard. Rather than heading for home, she turned and began meandering down the empty avenue, past the tall designer shops. The stores’ holiday windows—white lights twined around silvery branches, elaborately designed dolls arranged in scenes from A Christmas Carol—were incongruously bright against the darkness. Maxine thought she heard laughter and the sound of glasses clinking coming from a window high above, but she couldn’t place the source of the merriment. A lone taxicab shot past, startling her; its windows were rolled down, and the song “All Alone on Christmas” blasted out into the night.
“The cold wind is blowin’ and the streets are getting dark … nobody ought to be all alone on Christmas.”
The song capped everything off; Maxine stopped in the middle of Fifth Avenue, buried her face in her mittened hands, and surrendered to the tears that had been building ever since she’d learned the truth about Heath that afternoon. As the warm, salty drops fell, Maxine, who didn’t cry all that often, let herself wallow in self-pity. She’d had an awful day, but this moment was worse than anything that had happened back at Barton’s—because she felt like the only person alive not celebrating somewhere. The shops, the decorations, and the music were not for her. Standing in the heart of her hometown—in a city packed with so many interesting and quirky people who celebrated all varieties of holidays—Maxine Silver had somehow never felt so adrift.
“I don’t think Sandy would approve.”
A voice at her side made Maxine glance up and instinctively tug her bag against her. But the person standing beside her was not a Christmas Eve mugger. It was Avery Prince.
“I mean, that’s not much holiday cheer you’re showing, is it?” Avery clarified, and though his tone was playful, concern darkened his blue-gray eyes.
“Oh, um, I guess not.” Maxine sniffled, rubbing the tears off her cheeks. She wished he hadn’t seen her crying. But what was he even doing here? Maxine blinked, noticing that Avery was holding two cups topped with whipped cream and wearing a bomber jacket over a navy-blue sweater and corduroys. It was the first time Maxine had ever seen Avery out of his Nutcracker gear and, in spite of herself, her heart skipped a beat. There had been something adorable about Avery in costume, but seeing him now, the word that came to mind was beautiful. His high cheekbones, corn-silk hair, the dimple in his left cheek when he smiled … how had Maxine never picked up on it before?
“I’m sorry if I startled you—I stopped by Barton’s first,” Avery was explaining. “But then I saw you standing down here, so …” He lifted one shoulder, his smile shy.
Maxine’s head spun as she tried to piece together what Avery was saying. “You … you were looking for me?” she stammered. “But why—I thought you were going home—”
Avery shook his head, extending one of the cups toward Maxine. “I didn’t have time to make travel arrangements this year. Flights to Chicago book up so fast.” He paused, and his eyes swept over Maxine’s face, making her breath catch a little. “Here,” he added softly. “You seem like you could use some hot cocoa.”
“No kidding,” Maxine said gratefully, accepting the cup from Avery. She was reminded of the morning he had brought in mochas for the group; he really was a thoughtful guy. Maxine blew on the steaming surface, then took a sip. The rich, sweet liquid warmed her to the core and seemed to sate her hunger. Avery, too, was sipping his drink, and as he and Maxine looked at each other over their respective brims, Maxine could feel herself start to smile.
Without a word, the two of them turned and slowly began walking south on Fifth, their elbows touching each time they lifted their cups to their lips. Whenever this happened, Maxine felt a tingle move up her arm, and she wondered if Avery was feeling the same thing. As they walked on, with the lights from the store windows illuminating their path, they began to talk, their breath forming clouds on the air. They laughed over Sandy’s clipboard, dissected Daniel’s spaciness, and debated whether or not Claudette could ever be clumsy. Somehow discussing Barton’s with Avery made Maxine feel worlds better, and she was surprised to learn that even he had some issues with the job.
“So how did you do it?” Maxine asked him as they approached Rockefeller Center. “You always seemed so … glad to be there.”
Avery glanced at her with a half smile. “Trust me, Maxine, I had my down moments, just like you. But I try to make the best of things. I know, I know.” He laughed as Maxine wrinkled her nose. “Cue the corniness, right? But I never really minded Barton’s. After all, if I didn’t work there, I wouldn’t have met—” Avery paused and drank from his cocoa again, his face reddening.
Me? Maxine thought, her stomach giving a jump. She was still feeling too unsteady to pose such a bold question, so instead she simply nodded, clutching her cocoa cup.
“But the commercialism of this time of year does get to me,” Avery added thoughtfully, as he and Maxine turned into Rockefeller Center. The colorful flags flapped in the wind, the tree glowed, and the golden statue of Prometheus watched over the pure-white rink. Only a smattering of ice skaters were zipping around tonight. “Everyone’s so hung up on buying stuff …” As they reached the ledge that overlooked the rink, Avery gazed down at the skaters, the light from below casting shadows on his profile.
Maxine glanced at Avery, surprised that he had echoed her thoughts from the night before. Maybe they had more in common than Maxine had first thought. “So what’s the alternative?” Maxine teased, playing devil’s advocate. She gave Avery a nudge, thinking how much more relaxed she was around him, as opposed to, say, Heath Barton. “A holiday without gifts? Horrors!”
Avery turned to her, smiling and shaking his head. “Well, gifts can also be, like … moments instead of things, you know?” he asked, then bit his lip. “Does that make sense?”
Like this moment, Maxine caught herself thinking, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the hot cocoa spread through her body. Suddenly she felt something wet land on her cheek, and then her nose, and Maxine tilted her head up, laughing. Glistening white flakes were swirling down from the sky—the first snowfall of the year. From the skating rink below, Maxine heard people break out into cheers of appreciation.
Avery, too, looked up and laughed, and then glanced back at Maxine. “Is New York City always this postcard-perfect in the winter?” he asked, setting down his cocoa cup and attempting to catch the dancing flakes in his hands.
“We try,” Maxine replied, blinking snowflakes off her lashes, and realizing that Avery’s wide-eyed enthusiasm wasn’t getting on her nerves this time. It was actually kind of fun to experience the city with a non-native. “Wait,” Maxine added, remembering something Avery had said earlier. “If you weren’t going back to Illinois tonight, why did you have to leave early?”
“Oh.” Avery looked down abruptly, his cheeks flushing again, and Maxine felt a sudden wave of nervousness that warmed her own face. “I, um, well, now that you ask … I was going to get you something,” he said.
“You were?” Maxine asked breathlessly, and then pointed to her empty cocoa cup on the ledge. “You mean … this?”
Avery shook his head, still studying the snow-dusted ground. “Nah—I got those after the original plan didn’t work out.” Slowly, Avery raised his eyes until he met Maxine’s gaze. “I went to Lincoln Center to get us … tickets. Tickets to the New York Philharmonic’s concert next week.” He let out a big breath, looking crestfallen. “But it was sold out.”
Maxine clapped a hand over her mouth, unable to stop her burst of laughter. What were the chances? “Avery, you didn’t need to do that!” she exclaimed, feeling as dizzy and carefree as the snowflakes tumbling around her. When he shook his head politely, Maxine clarified. “No, I mean, you really didn’t have to do that. I know it’s random, but my mom and stepdad are in the Philharmonic. They’re going to play in that concert, and they can totally get us tickets.” Normally Maxine wouldn’t have been excited by the prospect of one of her mom’s concerts, but the thought of going with Avery, of seeing him again outside Barton’s, made her pulse flutter.
“That is exceptionally cool,” Avery declared, his face lighting up with relief. “You must get to hear amazing music all the time.”
“Eh,” Maxine replied, making a so-so motion with her hand. “Classical’s not my favorite.” When Avery nodded in agreement, Maxine added, “So what made you think of the Philharmonic, then?”
Avery grinned, lifting one shoulder. “Well, you mentioned once you loved music. So I figured you’d enjoy something more, I don’t know, peaceful after all that Christmas carol mishegas we had to go through.” He rolled his eyes for emphasis.
“Um … what did you just say?” Maxine asked, wondering if the snowfall had affected her hearing.
“Mishegas?” Avery repeated, grinning. “You know, it’s Yiddish. It means craziness or whatever—”
“I know,” Maxine cut him off, now thoroughly confused. “It’s my Grandma Rose’s favorite expression but—”
“My grandma’s too,” Avery said matter-of-factly, brushing his blond hair back off his forehead.
“But Avery—” Maxine sputtered as the implications of his words hit home. “I thought—don’t you celebrate Christmas?”
Avery shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “I like Christmas a lot, but I guess you’d say I’m a Hanukkah kind of guy.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Happy Hanukkah, by the way—even though it’s been over for a couple of days now.”
Maxine’s lips parted in amazement. Avery Prince was … Jewish? She thought about how isolated she’d felt in all that Christmas madness, when all along, of all people … And suddenly, it made perfect sense that Avery had met her on lonesome Fifth Avenue, and now stood with her in a quiet, sparkling Rockefeller Center. He didn’t have Christmas Eve plans, either. She wasn’t so alone after all.
“What are you thinking, Maxine Silver?” Avery asked, flashing her an intrigued smile and taking a step closer to her.
“Oh … nothing.” Maxine laughed, looking up at him. “Just that I’m never going to assume something about anyone ever again.”
Avery nodded, holding her gaze, and then his expression turned serious—intense. Through the steady snowfall, Maxine watched him study her, and her heart tapped against her ribs. “What are you thinking?” she volleyed back at him.
“Just that …” Avery reached over and brushed a snowflake off the tip of Maxine’s nose. “When you’re not dressed like an elf, you’re even more beautiful.”
Maxine felt her face grow hotter than it ever had under Heath Barton’s gaze. Heath’s compliments had been flip and fleeting, but she could sense the earnestness behind Avery’s words. And for once, Maxine was speechless. All she could do was step forward and meet Avery as he was stepping closer to her. No mistletoe was necessary; the moment alone told them what to do. Maxine let her eyes drift shut as Avery lowered his face and kissed her, soft and slow. I’m kissing the Nutcracker Prince, Maxine thought as she felt Avery’s warm lips claim hers, but instead of laughing, she kissed him back, savoring every second. The way their mouths fit together, the way Avery’s arms went around her waist right as hers went around his neck, seemed to cancel out any kiss—or any moment—she’d shared with Heath Barton.
“You idiot.” Maxine sighed when they broke apart, resting her fingers against Avery’s lips. “Why didn’t you do that days ago?”
Avery laughed, shaking his head. “Maxine, I thought you had written me off from the start. When I met you, you were so, I don’t know, sharp and funny, and that was what I liked about you, but it also made me nervous …” He glanced down, clearly embarrassed. “And then you were always talking with Heath Barton, so I figured …”
“You figured wrong,” Maxine whispered, standing on her toes to kiss Avery’s cheek. Heath seemed very far away now, and not only because he was off in Anguilla. Maxine’s crush on him felt distant, faded around the edges, like an old photograph.
Holding hands, Avery and Maxine turned and left Rockefeller Center and, as the snow continued to drift down, wound their way toward Maxine’s apartment building. When they reached the green awning on 79th Street, they lingered on the corner, far from the curious gaze of Maxine’s doorman. Avery had to head back downtown to his NYU dorm but first there were matters to discuss.
“If you’re around tomorrow,” Avery murmured, lacing his fingers through Maxine’s, his warm breath tickling her ear. “Would you be up for a movie and Chinese food?”
“Of course.” Maxine laughed. “The Jewish tradition. What else is there to do on Christmas, right?”
“Well … this, for one,” Avery whispered. Gently, he lifted Maxine’s chin and started kissing her once more. Then Maxine’s hands were in Avery’s hair, and he was clutching the back of her coat to draw her in closer. Avery—who knew? Maxine would have never guessed that someone so polite could kiss so well.
“So speaking of plans,” Maxine murmured against Avery’s lips, smiling. “If you’re around on New Year’s Eve, I know of a certain fabulous party …” Her heart soared as she thought of The Dress; now here was a boy worthy of seeing her in it.
“I’m there,” Avery replied, playfully tugging Maxine’s hat down over her eyes.
As she and Avery started kissing again, under the falling snow and the light from a lamppost, Maxine suddenly felt like the whole city—from the shimmery decorations to the Christmas carols drifting down from an apartment window—was all for her tonight. All for them. And that realization, combined with the feel of Avery’s arms around her, was as sweet and warm and satisfying as a holiday song.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and still tan from working outdoors at his grandparents’ apple orchard during the autumn harvest, Brenden Molloy had cheekbones to rival a Hollywood star’s and blue-green eyes that sparkled with wicked fun. He would be the cutest guy in school if it weren’t for tousled bangs that obscured half of his face. His hair was so long it curled underneath his ears and licked his shirt collar.
He shot her a quick grin as he walked over to Kelsey and her friend Gigi McClusky, taking graceful, loping strides, cradling his saxophone in its black case.
Instead of saying hello, Kelsey rushed up and pushed his hair back from his forehead.
“Hi to you, too,” he teased.
Kelsey sighed. Brenden had looked so nice earlier in his concert uniform—a black tuxedo—and part of her secretly wished that he could look like that all the time: not necessarily in black tie, but just a bit more polished and cleaned up than usual. He had already changed into his usual attire of holey concert T-shirt, battered jean jacket, weathered cotton Dickies, and thick-soled black combat boots. With his messy hair and collection of thick black armbands, he looked seriously grungy. Hot, but grungy.
In contrast, Kelsey was meticulously put together, as if she’d stepped off the pages of a glossy magazine, from her seashell-pink manicure to her tailored fur-trimmed red car coat. She was slim, with fair, clear, cornflower-blue eyes, burnished, honey-brown hair with strawberry-blonde highlights, and skin that tanned easily during the summer, sprinkling freckles across her nose and cheeks. Like Brenden, she was sixteen years old, and a junior at Parker.