“Why not?” he asks.
I shrug. “Plane tickets are expensive, especially this time of year.”
“You could drive.”
“Oh, it’s way too far. Besides, I don’t have a car.”
“I could drive you.”
Silence falls between us for just a moment. Then I break it. “You must really feel bad about me getting hurt that you’d offer to drive me.”
“I do feel bad, but that’s not why I’m offering.”
“Slater, it’s like a twenty-two hour trip. And it’s not an easy trip. Getting through the DC area is rough. We did a few times when my brother came here; then we learned our lesson.”
He shrugs. “Okay.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to make you drive me home for Christmas, but the fact you even offered is really sweet, Slater.”
He scoffs. “I’m not sweet.”
“Agree to disagree.”
“Think about it,” he says, not letting go of the idea of driving me home for Christmas.
“Slater, I’d love to see my family for Christmas, obviously, but—”
“Then do it.”
I take a breath. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I stare at him, trying to get him to understand my reason. “Slater, I’m not going to make you drive me some twenty plus hours. I’m not going to do that to you or put that many miles on your truck.”
“Okay.” I take a breath, glad it’s settled. It does make me miss my family, though. All this talk about Christmas...But I need to focus. There are still a few weeks until Christmas break; it’s too early to get sidetracked with thoughts of Christmas. Christmas has always been my favorite; it still is. Give me Christmas music and white lights, and I’m a goner. That’s literally all I need. When I look up, Slater is watching me intensely, his shrewd gaze missing nothing. “You’re thinking about your family, aren’t you?”
“Actually, I’m thinking about Christmas.” I sigh. “I am such a little kid at heart.”
“How so?”
“I just love Christmas,” I confess.
“What about it?”
“Whatnotabout it?” I challenge, but I answer his question. “I love Christmas music. I love white lights. There’s something about white lights that makes a home magical, especially at Christmas time. I love decorating the tree, making Christmas cookies, driving around to look at lights. Our block is the best block. Everybody decorates for Christmas, and it’s so amazing. I even love wrapping Christmas presents.”
“What kind of Christmas music do you like to listen to?”
“All of it,” I tell him and then laugh. “Sleigh Ride is my favorite Christmas song, but I love Michael Buble’s Christmas songs, and Kelly Clarkson, Josh Groban. Oh, and Andy Williams. When I was growing up, my stepdad had an old record player. Every year, we would listen to Andy Williams on the record player. It was an old vinyl with a red cover. I remember it like it was yesterday. Did you have a record player when you were growing up?” I ask.
“No.”
“Oh, you missed out. It was so fun.” I laugh. “You would only get to listen to a few songs before you had to flip it over. My brother and I would fight over who got to flip it over. Those were the days of the old heat registers too. We would sit over them when the heat came on and listen to Christmas music.” I smile at the nostalgia of it all. “Sorry,” I catch myself. “I get carried away sometimes.”
“You’re fine,” he says right back. “You have great memories.”
I focus on him. “Do you?” I prod gently. “Have good memories of growing up?”
