He mimes zipping his lips. "Silent as a saint."
The studio doors open, releasing a stream of yoga enthusiasts who give Caleb a wide berth as they pass. Amelia saunters over with my bag, her eyes dancing with barely contained laughter.
"Wow," she says, looking Caleb up and down. "That was something. You are truly terrible at yoga."
"Thank you," he says with complete sincerity. "I strive for mediocrity."
"I'm driving him home," I say, taking my bag from her.
"Cool. I'll grab a ride with Daphne. She should be done with her hospital shift soon."
"Are you sure?" I ask, but she's already backing away.
"Absolutely." She winks. "Have fun. Don't murder each other."
We watch her disappear down the hallway, leaving us alone. Caleb shifts beside me, rubbing his wrist again.
"Come on," I say softly. "Let's get you home before you hurt anything else."
The snow falls inlazy spirals, catching in the glow of streetlights as Ivy white-knuckles her way through what has to be the slowest drive in recorded history. She's got both hands locked on the steering wheel at a perfect ten-and-two position, shoulders so tense they're touching her ears. Her face is scrunched in concentration like she's performing brain surgery instead of navigating a perfectly plowed road.
"You planning on driving the whole way in second gear?" I can't help but tease as she inches past a parked car with at least ten feet of clearance.
"Shut up." She doesn't even glance my way, too focused on squinting through the windshield at the barely-there flurries. "Do you want me to crash us?"
"At this speed? We'd probably bounce off whatever we hit." But I settle back in my seat, content to let her crawl along at grandmother pace. I'll take every extra minute I can get with her.
The heat's cranked up to desert levels, but she's still shivering in her oversized hoodie. Her hair's damp from the yoga, and pulled into a messy bun that's already starting to escape its elastic prison.
"So," I try for casual conversation, "town's going all out for Christmas this year. Saw they've already got Main Street looking like Santa's workshop exploded."
"Mmhmm." Her response is noncommittal as she navigates around a patch of ice.
"Margaret's really embracing the whole winter wonderland theme. Though I heard Danny's already submitted three separate complaints about the LED lights being government mind control devices."
That gets a tiny smile, but she's still laser-focused on the road. We pass the WELCOME TO HALLOW'S END sign at what feels like walking speed, and she finally breaks her concentration long enough to glance my way. "Am I dropping you at your parents'?"
"Nope." I pop the 'p', watching her reaction. "Got my own place now."
Her head whips toward me so fast I'm worried she'll get whiplash. "You have?"
"Eyes on the road, Speed Racer." I grin as she jerks her attention back to driving. "And yeah, would've told you if you hadn't been dodging me like I'm patient zero in a zombie movie."
She sighs. "I'm not dodging you. Things are weird. I don't know where we stand or what you even want."
"I want to take you out."
Her hands flex on the steering wheel. "Like a 'friend' thing, or . . ."
"No." I turn in my seat to face her properly, even though she's still staring straight ahead. "Like an actual date. No mixed signals. No pretending we're just friends. If you don't want that, it's cool. I mean, it'll suck, but I'll respect it. But I want to try forreal this time."
The silence stretches so long I start counting snowflakes to keep from losing my mind. Finally, she exhales slowly.
"Fine." She doesn't look at me, and still I see the corner of her mouth threaten to lift. "One date. We owe that much at least."
Hope blooms in my chest like a fucking supernova. One chance. I can work with that. If this is my shot, I'm planning a date that'll make every so-called grand gesture on screen look half-assed.
Ivy's shoulders finally start to relax as we pass the town square, where the Christmas tree we picked stands tall with its decorations. Even in the dark, you can see the transformation happening—wreaths on every lamppost, garland wrapped around railings, shop windows already dressed in their holiday best.
