Chapter 22
tino
Lilah and I ended up spending most of the day in town with Luca and Nina.
I’d never been to Bibridge before and she’d only visited a handful of times, so they had a great time showing us around.
I was surprised by how well I ended up getting along with them, especially since I was pretty sure Luca hadn’t liked me when we first met, what with me accidentally hitting his sister in the face with a door.
It started snowing while Lilah and I were driving back to the house.
At first, I didn’t even notice. The wipers were sweeping lazily across the windshield, and Lilah was in the passenger seat, half-turned toward the window, chewing on a straw from the iced coffee she refused to stop ordering even though it was the end of November.
“Is that snow?” Lilah asked suddenly, her voice breaking through the music playing quietly on the radio.
I glanced up. Sure enough, tiny white specks were drifting down in the glow of the streetlights.
“Huh,” I said. “Guess winter’s really here.”
Her eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. “Pull over.”
“What?”
“Pull over!” she said again, practically bouncing in her seat.
“Lilah, it’s freezing out there—”
“Tino, come on! It’s the first snow!”
I sighed, already knowing I was doomed. When Lilah got an idea in her head, there was no point fighting it. I pulled over on the side of the road and before I could even put the car in park, she was unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Lilah, wait—your coat—”
But she was already out the door.
I cursed under my breath, killed the engine, and jumped out after her. The air hit me like a slap, crisp and sharp. The snow wasn’t heavy yet, just a soft dusting that swirled in the glow of the streetlamps. Lilah stood in the middle of the empty road, head tilted back, arms outstretched, laughing.
“You’re going to freeze to death!” I called. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to keep myself warm. Lilah didn’t seem to even notice the cold as she spun around, her hair catching the light and snowflakes clinging to her eyelashes.
“It’s the first snow, Tino! You can’t just sit in the car for this!”
“Yes, you can,” I said, trying not to smile. “Most people do. It’s warm there.”
She grinned and started walking backward, away from me. “Most people are boring.”
That was an obvious dig at me so I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not boring.”
“Then come dance with me!” she said, spreading her arms wide like she was inviting the whole world to join her.
I shook my head, but my lips were twitching. “Dance? There’s no music.”
“There’s snow. That’s better.”
“Lilah—”
She took a few more steps back, tilting her head playfully. “What’s the matter, hockey boy? Afraid of a little cold?”
That made me laugh. “You do realize hockey happens on ice, right?”
“Exactly,” she said smugly. “So you should be immune.”
“Doesn’t mean I like standing outside with no coat.”
“You could always stop being a coward and come join me,” she teased. My feet were carrying me forward before I’d even made a decision. Her grin widened as I walked toward her. “There you go! I knew you couldn’t resist me.”
“I’m only coming out here so you don’t get hypothermia and ruin my weekend,” I said, trying to be casual.
“Sure, sure.” She smiled. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
The snow was coming down a little harder now, soft flakes sticking in her hair and melting on her cheeks.
I reached up without thinking, brushing a few off her shoulder.
She went still for a second, eyes flicking up to mine, and I froze too, pulled in by her gaze.
Sometimes when I looked at Lilah, it felt like it was impossible to look away again.
Like I never wanted to see anything but her for the rest of my life.
The spell was only broken by her shivering. I wasn’t even sure if she noticed it, but I did. I pulled my sweater off as fast as I could and practically shoved it in her direction.
“Here. At least wear this.”
She glanced down at it but didn’t take it from my hands. “Then you’ll freeze.”
I watched her for a second longer than I should, the way her arms folded tighter around herself, the way her breath fogged unevenly in the cold.
She would probably argue with me until the end of time about this if I let her, so instead, I took matters into my own hands.
I stepped in close and lifted my hands, pulling the hoodie over her head before she even had the chance to protest. She stiffened for half a second, clearly startled, but didn’t argue as the fabric settled around her.
I stepped back and awkwardly cleared my throat as she watched me with wide eyes.
“You were freezing,” I said simply.
“But now you’re freezing,” she said. Her arms moved under the fabric and for a moment, I was worried she was going to take the sweater off and throw it back at me, angry at me for even doing that.
Instead, she did the opposite, as she slid her arms into the sleeves and wrapped the ends of the sleeves around her hands, keeping her fingers covered.
My heart warmed as I stared at her, wrapped in my sweater like it was always meant to be hers.
Suddenly, I was so overwhelmed with the urge to kiss her that it was almost impossible to resist. I wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to fall asleep next to her tonight.
I wanted to be able to walk down the street holding her hand and wrap my arm around her every time we sat down somewhere. I wanted her, every piece of her.
But all of this was still fake, and I couldn’t let myself forget it.
She was still staring at me, so I tried to pull myself back into the moment and remember what she said.
“I’ll survive,” I said. “Like you said, I’m a hockey player. I’m built for the cold.”
We stood there for a minute, just listening to the quiet. The whole world felt muffled, like the snow had wrapped everything in cotton. The only sounds were the distant hum of traffic and the faint crunch of flakes under our shoes.
Then she reached out her hand. “Dance with me.”
“Lilah—”
“Come on. Don’t overthink it.”
“I don’t dance.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I really don’t.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You skate, right?”
“That’s different.”
“Same principle.”
“It’s not—”
Before I could finish, she grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. “There. Step one accomplished.”
Her fingers were freezing against mine, but I didn’t let go.
“Now,” she said, grinning up at me, “just follow my lead.”
I snorted. “You’re bossy, you know that?”
“Someone has to be.”
She started swaying—badly, if I’m being honest. Her rhythm was all over the place, like she couldn’t decide between waltzing and jumping up and down in the snow. But she was laughing, and that made it impossible not to laugh with her.
“Wow,” I said. “You’re terrible at this.”
“I’m amazing at this,” she said. “You’re just too uptight to appreciate art.”
“Pretty sure this is the opposite of art.”
She gasped dramatically. “Are you insulting your fake girlfriend right now? Rude.”
“Fake girlfriend, fake dancing. It fits.”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
That shut me up for a second. I don’t think she even realized what she’d said—she just kept spinning, her laughter echoing softly in the cold air. But my brain caught on the word cute and refused to let it go.
When she stumbled a little, I caught her by the waist, steadying her. Her hands came up automatically, clutching my shoulders. We were close now—too close. Her hair brushed against my chin, and I could smell the faint hint of vanilla from her shampoo.
She looked up at me, eyes bright and wide and full of snowlight.
And just like that, I knew.
I was in love with her.
Not the idea of her. Not the fake version we’d built for everyone else. Her.
The stubborn, sarcastic, impossible girl who laughed in snowstorms and refused to wear coats and made me forget how to breathe.
The realization hit me so hard I almost laughed. It was ridiculous. I wasn’t supposed to fall for her. That was literally the one rule.
“Tino,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the hush of the snow.
“Yeah?”
“You’re staring.”
I blinked, forcing a smile. “Just waiting for you to step on my foot again.”
She laughed, and the moment passed—but not completely.
Something lingered in the air, something warm and dangerous that made my chest feel too tight.
She leaned her head briefly against my shoulder as we swayed.
We danced a little longer, until our fingers were numb and our breath came out in white clouds.
Then she pulled back, cheeks flushed, eyes shining.
“Okay,” she said, “I’m freezing. You were right.”
“I’ll never let you live that down,” I said, grabbing her coat from the car and helping her into it.
Both of us were shivering and we sat in the car for a minute with the heater blasting.
The windshield fogged up, and she drew a little heart in the condensation before realizing what she’d done and wiping it away, flustered.
I pretended not to notice.
As I drove back toward the house, she fell quiet beside me, humming softly along with the music. I glanced over at her once—just once—and caught her watching the snow again, a small smile on her lips.
I turned back to the road, my heart pounding in my chest, and finally admitted the thing I’d been avoiding for weeks.
I was completely, hopelessly, stupidly in love with Lilah Turner.
And if I wasn’t careful, this fake relationship was going to break me for real.