Let It Snow: Three Holiday Romances

Well, guess what? I told myself. You’re going to have to suck it up for the sake of Tegan. Either that,
or say bye-bye to Gabriel forever.
I flipped opened my phone, scrolled through my contacts, and jabbed
CALL
. I clenched my toes inside
my boots as I counted rings. One ringie-dingie, two ringie-dingies, three ringie—
“Yo, mama!” Charlie said when he picked up. “S’up?”
“It’s Addie,” I said. “I need a ride, and I’m only asking because I have absolutely no other choice. I’m
outside Pet World. Come pick me up.”
“Someone’s  bossy  this  morning,”  Charlie  said.  I  could  practically  hear  him  waggle  his  eyebrows.  “I
like it.”
“Whatever. Just come get me, will you?”
He lowered his voice. “What’ll you give me in return?”
“A free chai,” I said flatly.
“Venti?”
I tightened my jaw, because the way he said it, even “venti” sounded lewd.
“Fine, a venti chai. Have you left yet?”
He chuckled. “Hold on, babe. I’m still in my skivvies. My venti skivvies, and not because I’m fat, but
because I’m”—ridiculous, loaded pause—“venti.”
“Just get over here,” I said. I started to hang up, then thought of one last thing. “Oh—and bring a phone
book.”
I hung up, did a shake-it-off shudder, and despised myself all over again for fooling around with such a
skeeze. Yes, he was hot—in theory—and once upon a time, I suppose, I’d even found him funny.
But he wasn’t Jeb.
Dorrie  had  summed  up  the  difference  between  them  one  night  at  a  party.  Not  the  party,  but  just  a
normal,  pre-breakup  party.  Dorrie  and  I  were  slouching  on  a  sofa,  rating  a  bunch  of  guys  according  to
their strengths and weaknesses. When we got to Charlie, Dorrie let out a sigh.
“The problem with Charlie,” she said, “is that he’s too charming,  and  he  knows  it.  He  knows  he  can
have any girl in the grade—”
“Not me,” I interjected, balancing my drink on my knee.
“—so he sails through life like a typical trust-fund baby.”
“Charlie has a trust fund? I didn’t know that.”
“But what that means, sadly, is that he has no depth. He’s never had to work for anything in his life.”
“I wish I didn’t have to work for anything,” I said wistfully. “I wish I had a trust fund.”

---

“No,  you  don’t,”  Dorrie  said.  “Are  you  even  listening?”  She  took  my  drink,  and  I  made  a  sound  of
protest.
“Take Jeb, for instance,” Dorrie said. “Jeb is going to grow up to be the kind of man who spends his
Saturdays teaching his little boy to ride a bike.”
“Or little girl,” I said. “Or twins! Maybe we’ll have twins!”
“Charlie, on the  other hand, will  be off playing  golf while  his  kid  kills  people  on  his  Xbox.  Charlie
will be dashing and debonair, and he’ll buy his kid all kinds of crap, but he’ll never actually be there.”
“That is so sad,” I said. I reclaimed my drink and took a long sip. “Does that mean his kid will never
learn to ride a bike?”
“Not unless Jeb goes over and teaches him,” Dorrie said.
We sat.  For  several minutes,  we  watched the  guys  play  pool. Charlie’s  ball  hit its  mark,  and  Charlie
pulled his fist in by his side.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” he crowed. “Ice, baby!”
Jeb looked across the room at me, and his lips twitched. I felt warm and happy, because the message in
his eyes was, You’re mine and I’m yours. And thank you for not using expressions like “Ice, baby.”
A twitch of the lips and a loving look . . . what I wouldn’t give to have that back. Instead, I threw it all
away for the guy who was rumbling into the parking lot this very second in his ridiculous gray Hummer.
He pulled up short, spraying me with snow.
“Hey,” he said, powering down the window. He jerked his chin at my hair and grinned. “Look at you,
Pink!”
“Stop  smiling  at  me,”  I  warned  him.  “Don’t  even  look  at  me.”  I  trudged  to  the  passenger  side  and
heaved myself in, straining my quads. I felt like I was climbing into a tank, which, basically, I was.
“Did you bring the phone book?”
He flicked it with his finger, and I saw that it was resting on the seat beside me. I found the residential
section and flipped to the Bs. Baker, Barnsfeld, Belmont . . .
“I’m glad you called,” Charlie said. “I’ve missed you.”
“Shut up,” I said. “And no, you haven’t.”
“You’re  being  awfully  mean  toward  someone  who’s  giving  you  a  ride,”  he  said.  I  rolled  my  eyes.
“Seriously,  Adds.  Ever  since  you  broke  up  with  Jeb—and  I’m  sorry  about  that,  by  the  way—I’ve  been
hoping we could, you know, give it a go.”
“That’s not going to happen, and seriously, shut up.”
“Why?”
I ignored him. Bichener, Biggers, Bilson . . .
“Addie,”  Charlie  said.  “I  dropped  everything  to  come  pick  you  up.  Think  you  could  at  least  talk  to
me?”
“I’m sorry, but no.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re an asshat.”
He guffawed. “Since when have you been hanging out with JP Kim?” He shut the phone book, and I just
barely managed to keep my finger in it to mark my place.
“Hey!” I said.
“Seriously, why don’t you want to go out with me?” he asked.
I lifted my head and glared. Surely he knew how much I regretted our kiss, and how much I hated just
being here in this ridiculous Hummer with him. But as I took in his expression, I faltered. Was that . . . ?
Oh good grief. Was that plaintiveness in those green eyes?
“I like you, Addie, and you know why? ’Cause you’re zesty.” He said “zesty” with the same intentional
cheesiness as when he’d said “venti.”

---

“Don’t call me zesty,” I said. “I am not zesty.”
“You’re zesty, all right. And you’re a good kisser.”
“That was a mistake. That was me being drunk and stupid.” My throat closed, and I had to gaze out the
window until I pulled myself together. I turned back and attempted to divert the conversation. “Anyway,
what happened to Brenna?”
“Brenna,” he mused. He leaned back against the headrest. “Brenna, Brenna, Brenna.”
“You’re still into her, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “She seems to be . . . involved with someone else, as I’m sure you know. At least, that’s
what she tells me. I, myself, can’t see it.” He swiveled his head. “If you had the choice, would you pick
Jeb over me?”
“In a heartbeat,” I said.
“Ouch,”  he  said.  He  gazed  at  me,  and  beneath  his  posturing,  I  saw  that  plaintiveness  again.  “Once,
Brenna would have picked me. But I was a cad.”
“Um, yeah,” I said glumly. “I was there. I was an even bigger cad.”
“Which is why we’d be great together. We might as well make lemonade, right?”
“Huh?”
“Out of our lemons,” he explained. “Which is us. We’re the lemons.”
“Yeah, I got the reference. I just . . . ” I didn’t finish my sentence. If I had, it would have gone something
like, “I just didn’t know you saw yourself that way. As a lemon.”
He snapped out of it. “So what do you say, Pink? Trixie’s having a rocking New Year’s Eve party. Want
to go?”
I shook my head. “No.”
He put his hand on my thigh. “I know you’re having a rough time. Let me comfort you.”
I pushed him off. “Charlie, I’m in love with Jeb.”
“That didn’t stop you before. Anyway, Jeb dumped you.”
I was silent, because everything he said was true. Except, I wasn’t that girl anymore. I refused to be.
“Charlie . . . I can’t go out with you if I’m in love with someone else,” I finally said. “Even if he no
longer wants me.”