I guess I couldn’t blame him. Morgan did make killer desserts. It was pretty much the only reason we got such big turnouts at our monthly full-staff meetings. She tempted everyone with her unique chocolaty creations.
“And we should do a Secret Santa,” she said. “How fun would that be, to get cute little surprises leading up to Christmas? And then we can do the big gift and reveal at the party.”
“How much is this going to cost?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Katie said. “I don’t want to spend a fortune on this.”
Morgan crossed her arms. “You guys are such Scrooges. It doesn’t have to be expensive. You can write a nice note, decorate their locker, things like that. It’s about the holiday spirit, not money. Come on!”
I suppressed another groan, but I could tell how important this was to Morgan. “Fine, I’ll do it.”
“Me, too,” J.D. said. “I haven’t done a Secret Santa in years.”
“Seeing how that’s probably how long it will take you to get around to buying a gift, that’s probably a good thing,” I mumbled.
It didn’t go unnoticed. “I’ll have you know I’m an awesome Secret Santa,” J.D. informed me, his eyes looking straight into mine.
“Just like you’re awesome about getting to meetings on time?” I asked. I met his gaze and didn’t let go. If it was a staring contest he wanted, then fine. But he had better be prepared to lose.
“One has nothing to do with the other.”
“Riiiiight,” I said. “Because someone totally irresponsible doesn’t let that bleed into all other aspects of his life.”
“Funny how someone who is such a perfectionist is wrong so often,” he said and gave me a lopsided grin that showed off a giant dimple on his left cheek. And to think I used to find dimples cute. Just another thing on a long list that J.D. Ortiz had to go and ruin. “Must be hard for you, huh?” he continued.
“Me?” I asked. “If I’m so wrong all the time, then how come we almost didn’t make print last edition?”
“Because someone didn’t realize that editor in chief doesn’t mean dictator.”
“Seriously,” Zakiyah jumped in.
Great, now I had both of them to deal with. “No, it means chief,” I explained. “As in, in charge. As in, I have the final say on what makes the paper, not the gossip columnist and not the photo editor.”
J.D.’s whole body stiffened. “You really are—”
I didn’t get to find out what I was because Morgan interrupted us. “Okay, this is about Christmas cheer, not Christmas fighting. You can hash it out after the meeting. Everyone else cool with the Secret Santa and the party?”
Everyone nodded. Although I think they were more excited about the meeting ending than about a group get-together.
“Great,” Morgan said. “I’ll send out an e-mail. Make sure everyone on your team knows about it and comes to the full-staff meeting Friday. We’ll pick names for the Secret Santa then. And editors, I know we usually skip our Wednesday meeting the week we have the monthly staff one, but if we can meet really quickly after school Wednesday just to touch base and make sure we’re all still on the same page, that would be great.”
“Yes,” I agreed, before anyone grumbled at the request. “And, Bobby, don’t forget what we talked about. We really want that Teo article, and we need to know if he’ll do it ASAP. Invite him to the staff meeting, too. We want him to feel welcome, to feel part of the team.” And most of all, to feel like fate helped him find the girl of his dreams, the coeditor of the paper.
Bobby nodded as he made his way to the door. Everyone filed out except Morgan—and J.D.—who just sat there staring at me.
Great. I glanced at my phone. He better not make me late. I was going to the hospital to grab a quick coffee with my mom. We had barely seen each other in the past three days. Her promotion to chief resident was a mixed blessing. It was great for her career, but it also came with a lot more work and hours on the job. I wasn’t about to give up time with her for a guy who drove me crazy.
“What?” I asked.
“Are we going to talk about the photos?” he challenged me.
Morgan slunk down in one of the chairs. She knew an argument was brewing. She’d heard it all before. Numerous times. And she always tried to duck her way out of it.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, gathering all of my papers together. “It’s the same as always. Turn in what you have to Morgan, tell her your preferences, and she and I will discuss it and get back to you.”
“You know what I’m talking about. I want a spread in the print edition.”
Here we go again. “I already told you no. There’s no room for it.”
“And I told you that makes no sense. There’s no set number of pages. Add a few more.”
Of course he didn’t care that I had already spent hours doing mock-ups of exactly how everything would fit. “It doesn’t work like that.”
“Funny,” he said, standing up. “You had no problem finding room to randomly add something from Teo.”
“I, um, that’s going to the part of the paper already dedicated to sports.” Although that wasn’t entirely true. I was going to have to rework things to make the space.
He crossed his arms. “Yeah, right.”
There was something about his tone that set me off. “Think what you want, but this isn’t your call. And if you wanted me to take you seriously, you wouldn’t have waited until just a few days ago to ask. Besides, aren’t you forgetting that this is the newspaper? It’s not the yearbook or some photography magazine. The photos are supposed to highlight the news, not replace it.”
“Wait.” J.D.’s hands shot up to his temples. “You’re telling me you don’t think a picture can tell a story all on its own? Where have you been? One image can capture everything you need—the visceral feelings, the heart of what you’re trying to create. How can you not see that?”
I gripped my papers to my chest. “Well, if one picture can show all of that, then you don’t need a spread, now do you?”
He let out a snort. “You are too much. You don’t care that I’m right, that a photo spread would make the paper better, that more people would want to pick it up and look at it. You’re just digging your heels in because if it’s my idea and not yours, then it must be a bad one.”
“You said it, not me,” I countered.
He shook his head. “Morgan, I know she’s your friend and you’re always defending her, but she’s wrong. I deserve this spread. If for nothing else than for putting up with her for all these months. You’re editor, too. What do you think?”
Morgan looked from me to J.D. and back again.
J.D. grabbed the back of his neck and rubbed it. As Morgan was about to speak, he put up his hand. “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. I’m not going to put you in a spot to go up against your best friend.” Then he turned to me. “But I really wish you’d come to your senses.”
Then he just grabbed his stuff and left.
“He’s so frustrating,” I moaned.
Morgan shrugged her shoulder. “He may have a point. We’re going to have to change things anyway for Teo’s piece. A pictorial spread looking back over the first half of the year could be nice.”
“Please, no,” I begged. “That will be a ginormous amount of work. One more article is not the same as adding a whole extra page or two. If he had brought it up a week or two before Thanksgiving maybe, but now? I don’t want to rejigger everything for this. My month has been stressful enough. But if you really want to…” I let my voice trail off.
Morgan relented. “Okay, we can leave it as is.”
“Thank you.” I really was grateful. I just wanted to go see my mom. The last thing I needed was more work and aggravation because of J.D. Ortiz. I had more important things to worry about—like snagging a date with his cousin.
Three
I got to the hospital with five minutes to spare. I grabbed Mom and me a coffee and took a table
in the corner. My cup was empty and hers was ice cold by the time she finally showed up.
“Honey, I am so sorry I’m late,” my mother said as she approached our table. She kissed the top of my head. “I tried to get away sooner, but a car wreck came in. It was all hands on deck.”
I took a deep breath. Lateness was my biggest pet peeve, but it wasn’t like I could be mad at her. She was saving people’s lives. I had no choice but to be okay with it. “It’s fine. Everyone all right?”
She took a seat. “For now. Just promise me you will never text and drive.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know I wouldn’t.”
“I know. I’m sorry. You know how I get.” Ever since my mom started spending more time in the ER, she had become a walking PSA. “So tell me about your day. I miss you. I miss our talks.”
I missed her, too. We filled each other in on everything we’d been up to, and the time flew. Before I knew it, it was time for her to go. “Sorry, sweetie, I do have to get back to the ER. There’s leftover Chinese in the fridge, and I’ll call you tonight before you go to bed.”
“Mom?” I said, bracing myself as she stood up. “Any word on Christmas?”
She sat back down.
I knew what that meant.
“I’ll be home in time for us to go to midnight mass on Christmas Eve, and then we can stay up and watch movies and open presents on Christmas morning.”
I said what she wouldn’t. “And then you’re going back to work.”
She put her hand on my arm. “You know I’d rather be with you. It’ll still feel like Christmas, though. I promise.”
But it already didn’t. Normally we went the day after Thanksgiving and picked out the perfect Christmas tree. I would inspect every single one until I was sure we selected the very best tree on the lot. Then we’d make a whole day out of decorating it. This year, she had had to work. I was still up, basically sulking, when she got home. She saw how disappointed I was and came up with a “brainstorm.” She pulled out an old fake tree she had stashed in the basement from before I was born and decided we should decorate it right then. She was so excited that I didn’t want to tell her that just made it worse. Not only did it not feel like Christmastime anymore, but now our house wasn’t going to smell like it, either.
“Yeah, okay,” I said.
She squeezed my arm. “It will be a great Christmas, you’ll see.”
I pretended to smile. I didn’t want to make her feel guilty. I knew she was still trying to get a handle on her new position at work and how to juggle everything. “I know,” I lied.
“That’s my girl.” She gave me a hug and said good-bye.
I watched as her green scrubs disappeared into the distance. This was going to be the worst Christmas ever. I crumpled up my cup and headed toward the trash. I stopped when I saw who was standing there. Was it possible? It couldn’t be—but it was. Old Saint Nick was clearly taking pity on me, because a mere seven feet away, tossing out a half-eaten piece of pizza, was none other than Teo Ortiz.
Seeing him twice in one day?
This had to be fate, and there was no way I was ignoring that.
I mustered up all my courage and walked straight toward him. “I could have told you the pizza was pretty much a hockey puck. Rubbery and yet somehow still as hard as a rock.”
“Charlie, right?” he said, his face breaking into a smile. “Where were you ten minutes ago?”
“I wish I could have saved you. But here’s a pro tip,” I whispered, leaning closer to him. “Go for the sandwiches, yogurts, and cereals. The hot food here is always a mess.”
“I’ve been learning that the hard way, so I’ll take that under advisement.” Could eyes twinkle? Because I was pretty sure his were. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“My mom’s a doctor. I came to say hi. I guess I don’t need to ask you the same,” I said and gestured toward his large red-and-white-striped shirt. “So I guess this is where you were rushing to earlier. How long have you been volunteering here?”
“Yeah, it’s my first day back in a while. I did the candy striper program over the summer, and I figured with the holidays and staff trying to take vacations they could probably use some extra help around now, so I offered to come in a couple of days a week, and they took me up on it.”
Okay. Smart, handsome, athletic, conscientious, and a volunteer. Forget Ajay. Teo was like Ajay 2.0—the deluxe version.
“What kinds of stuff do you do?” I asked, and to my amazement, I was cool, calm, and collected. Well, I was holding my own, at least.
“Today they have me up on the orthopedic floor, helping escort patients trying to get some movement in,” Teo said. “I want to do sports medicine one day, so I like it up there. What kind of doctor is your mom?”
“ER. She loves the pace. She always dreamed about being a doctor. She actually went back to school for it when I was little. I remember when she first started…” I let my voice dwindle as he glanced at his phone.
“Sorry,” he said. “I—”
“Have to get back to work,” I answered for him.
“Yeah, my break ended a minute ago.”
“I understand,” I told him.
He said good-bye, and I watched him rush off. It seemed like I was doing a lot of that today. But it didn’t matter. I got some actual time with Teo, and he wasn’t selfish like Morgan feared—in fact, he was the opposite. He was the type of guy I needed.
With everything with my mom, I knew Christmas was going to be a disappointment this year, but with Teo, there was a chance I’d be able to salvage my love life—which meant maybe there was something to look forward to this season, after all.
Four
I picked up the bag of powdered sugar. “Maybe a little extra of this on top,” I suggested, studying the jelly doughnuts Morgan had just made.
“Be careful,” she warned, “that comes out really fa—”
It was too late; half of the bag dumped out onto the tray, creating what looked like a winter wonderland on Morgan’s counter.
“Oh no,” I said, trying to shake the excess sugar off the doughnuts. “I’m so sorry.”
She laughed. “It’s okay, it was just a test batch.”
I looked at the mess. “This may be why I handle the business end of our little venture, and you’re the talent.”
“You think?” she teased.
“I think,” I answered, wiping powder off of my nose with the back of my hand. My skills in the kitchen were not exactly world-renowned. I could barely boil pasta or, apparently, coat doughnuts without causing a disaster. But that wasn’t going to keep me from trying.
Morgan and I had started a baking business. I spent so much time helping her pick up ingredients and watching her cook her amazing concoctions that I figured we might as well make a profit off it and add entrepreneur to our college applications. I was in charge of getting us the gigs, billing, supplies, delivery, and that sort of thing while she came up with the recipes and did the baking. We’d only been doing it about four months, but we’d been getting some decent jobs. Our latest ones included a Hanukkah party for the little kids at Morgan’s synagogue, cupcakes for Scobell’s Diner, and Christmas cookies for our school’s Parent Teacher Association.
She tossed me a wet rag, and I started to clean the counter while she carefully placed the doughnuts into a container. “I think these will work for the Hanukkah party,” she said, admiring her fried creations. “The kids should like them. And I’ll do some cupcakes with Stars of David on them, and sugar cookies shaped like dreidels.”
“Just tell me what and how much of everything you need, and I’ll pick it up.” We had a pretty good arrangement. I had the car, and she had a monster-sized kitchen that her parents let her take over.
“I think I’ll make five dozen sufganiyot, six doz—”
“Sufgani-what?” I asked.
She laughed. “Sufganiyot. It’s the Hebrew word for doughnut. It’s a traditional Hanukkah food.
Like latkes.”
“Those I know.” Every year during Hanukkah, Morgan’s family had invited me over when they made latkes, fried potato pancakes, which taste pretty incredible. And I had her over to help my mom and me decorate our Christmas tree and overdose on hot chocolate. Or at least most years I did—this one being the exception.
“I’ll get you my list for everything tomorrow,” she said, and checked the cupcakes cooling on the counter across from me.
They were the ones for Scobell’s Diner. I still couldn’t believe I had convinced the owner to let us sell them there, but she said she liked my entrepreneurial spirit. And it didn’t hurt that she had seen me highlighted on the local news the year before as the winner of the science fair. I did a whole thing on household conservation, efficiency, and lower utility bills. She said my tips saved her money, and she might as well use the savings on supporting young, local businesswomen.
Morgan pulled a bowl of frosting out of the fridge. “Here, stir this to help warm it up a little bit.”
“Sooo,” I said, keeping my eyes glued to the blue frosting in front of me. “Did we get any more responses to Friday’s meeting?”
“You mean since you asked me thirty minutes ago?”
“Well, something new could have come in since then.”
She handed me her phone and took the bowl from me. “Check for yourself, but don’t be upset if there’s no news about Mr. Perfect. Bobby already said Teo hasn’t answered him. But it’s only been a day.”
I was kicking myself for not asking Teo about the meeting myself. I had been caught off guard when I saw him at the hospital and hadn’t been thinking a hundred percent clearly. Although, all things considered, I think I handled myself rather well. Especially since the whole thing was unplanned. “I’m not just checking on him. I want to make sure we have enough people so your Secret Santa drawing goes off the way it should.”
“Right, I’m sure that’s what’s concerning you,” she teased.
“It is!” Okay, maybe I was slightly concerned about whether Teo would show. I hadn’t seen him since I ran into him yesterday, and I wanted that to change.
My New Crush Gave to Me Page 2