Chapter 28
lilah
The winter carnival felt like something out of a snow globe.
The lower quad had been completely transformed—white lights strung between bare trees, glowing softly against the dark sky, their reflections shimmering on patches of snow that hadn’t quite melted yet.
Booths lined the pathways in uneven rows, their canvas roofs dusted with frost, banners flapping gently in the cold breeze.
Someone had hung paper snowflakes from the lampposts, and every few feet there was a coil of extension cords feeding power to speakers, lights, and ancient-looking carnival equipment that probably hadn’t been inspected in years.
Music drifted from somewhere near the center of the quad—tinny and overly cheerful, the kind of holiday playlist that tried too hard to manufacture joy.
It blended with the sounds of laughter, the clatter of game prizes being reset, the occasional triumphant bell ringing out when someone won.
The air smelled like sugar and cinnamon and hot oil, like kettle corn and churros and something fried I couldn’t immediately identify but desperately wanted anyway.
I walked in with Poppy and Saylor but they both peeled off to find their boyfriends almost immediately. I didn’t mind since I was going to find my boyfriend now, too.
Boyfriend. Fake boyfriend. Same difference.
He was sitting on a bench when I walked up to the meeting place but he jumped to his feet the moment he saw me, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.
“You wore a real coat,” he said as a greeting.
I rolled my eyes. “Ha ha ha.”
He dug into his pocket and pulled out a pair of black mitts, holding them out to me. When I looked at him in confusion, he said, “I couldn’t carry a whole coat in case you didn’t bring yours, but I figured mitts would help at least.”
I pulled my hands, bare since I’d forgotten my mitts in my room exactly as he knew, out of my pockets and let him pull the mitts over my hands, smiling softly down at them.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Tino walked beside me, close enough that our coats brushed every few steps.
It wasn’t deliberate—at least, it didn’t feel like it—but neither of us made any effort to put more space between us.
His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, shoulders relaxed, posture easy in a way I hadn’t seen much lately.
The beanie he wore was pulled low over his ears, his breath fogging in front of him every time he laughed.
He looked comfortable.
Not careful. Not guarded. Just… here.
“So,” he said, glancing around at the chaos. “What’s first?”
I adjusted my scarf, pretending to think even though the truth was I didn’t really care what we did. The what mattered less than the with whom, and that realization settled strangely in my chest.
“Surprise me,” I said.
He slowed half a step, turning his head to look at me like he was waiting for the joke. “You’re trusting me?”
I shrugged. “For tonight.”
A smile lit up his face, so bright that I wished he would never stop smiling.
He slipped his hand into mine so easily that you would have thought it always belonged there and started pulling me through the crowd.
For a while, it felt like we were wandering aimlessly through the booths, passing what felt like the rest of Hartwell’s student population.
We walked past a group of seniors arguing loudly about whether funnel cakes or deep-fried Oreos were better, then we strolled past Poppy and Bear being all coupley by the cider stand (as always, I felt a little triumphant seeing them so happy given that I was practically the reason they were together).
A line had formed at the Ferris wheel already, the old metal structure looming over everything like it was watching us.
We passed booth after booth, from balloon dart games to the mallet swing, all of them accompanied by loud cheering. Tino finally stopped at one on the opposite side of the carnival, smiling triumphantly at me.
“Pick what prize you want and I’ll win it for you,” he said.
“Really?” I asked. Nobody had ever offered to win me a prize before. Then again, nobody had ever liked me the way Tino did. Why had it taken me so long to accept that he would be good for me?
“Whatever you want.”
Behind the counter, prizes hung from hooks.
It was stuffed animals in every size and color imaginable.
Bears, dragons, neon dinosaurs. Right in the center sat a medium-sized penguin wearing a red-and-white striped scarf, its stitched eyes slightly judgmental.
I bit my lip. It was the perfect prize and I totally wanted to ask him to get it, but I also didn’t want him to feel bad if he couldn’t win.
“You know these are designed to make you lose, right?” I asked instead.
He squeezed my hand. “So long as I’m with you, I’ll never lose.”
I couldn’t help it—I snorted. The line was so ridiculously cheesy that I couldn’t help it, even if the idea of him winning me a prize made butterflies erupt in my stomach. I pointed at the penguin.
“Fine hotshot. I want that one.”
Tino squinted. “The penguin?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It looks like it would silently judge everyone in this school,” I said. “I relate to that.”
He snorted. “Fair.”
The game was simple: knock over a stack of metal cans with a baseball. Tino paid and took the ball, rolling it in his hands like he was about to step onto a field instead of a plywood platform.
“Don’t overthink it,” I said.
He shot me a look. “I am physically incapable of that.”
First throw—two cans down.
“Warm-up,” he muttered.
Second throw—better, but still not enough.
I clasped my hands together dramatically. “I believe in you.”
“You’re lying.”
“Only a little.”
On the third throw, he exhaled sharply and threw like he was annoyed at the universe. The cans went flying.
The volunteer rang a bell. “Winner!”
Tino’s grin was instant and unrestrained. He grabbed the penguin and turned toward me, holding it out proudly.
“For you.”
I hugged it against my chest. “I will cherish him forever.”
“I expect updates.”
“Weekly.”
Tino grinned and ran a hand on the penguin like he was petting it. Then his hand drifted up and he tucked my hair behind my ear as if that was the most natural movement in the world. I froze as my traitorous heart began to pound and goosebumps ran across my arms.
“Are you cold?” Tino asked in concern. Before I could say no or even begin to come up with an explanation for why I just reacted like that, he slipped his hand into mine again. “Come on, let’s get hot chocolate.”
He led me to a booth decorated with glittery snowflakes and a hand-painted sign listing toppings in looping cursive.
I let him order for us, not even registering what he was saying.
I hadn’t been feeling the cold before, but those shivers kept going down my spine now.
I shoved my free hand deeper into my pocket, hoping to warm it up.
Tino noticed without comment and shifted closer, his shoulder blocking the wind.
The gesture was so casual, so thoughtless, that my chest tightened before I could stop it.
The volunteer handed over two steaming cups.
Tino took the first and immediately popped the lid, grabbing a handful of marshmallows and dropping them clumsily on top of the warm drink.
There were so many that they had to pile up on each other and when he tried to put the lid on, it couldn’t possibly fit without the drink spilling.
He plucked off two marshmallows and popped them into his mouth.
Without meaning to, I followed the movement with my eyes, unable to look away from his lips.
His soft, kissable lips. And suddenly I was falling back into the memory of last night, of the way his lips had crashed onto mine.
What would he say if I kissed him now? Would he be as happy about it as he was last night?
“Lilah?” he asked. I blinked, trying to pull myself out of my daydreams, and realized he was holding the cup of hot chocolate out to me. “Careful. Don’t burn your tongue.”
“This one’s for me?” I asked, taking the cup in my frozen fingers.
“Of course. I don’t like getting cavities from my hot chocolate, but I know how much you do, so...”
My chest tightened and swelled all at once as I looked at him, at the earnestness on his face, the way he suddenly broke eye contact to grab his own cup.
“Thank you,” I murmured before I took a sip, effectively scalding my tongue in the process. “Ow! Hot!”
Tino laughed. “Every time.”
I swatted him on the arm. “At least I’m consistent.”
“That you are.”
We leaned against a railing near the edge of the quad, watching people pass. The lights reflected in his eyes, and for a moment, the world felt smaller. Quieter.
“This is… nice,” he said after a while.
The word carried more weight than it should have.
“Yeah,” I agreed softly. “It is.”
I wanted to say more. Something honest. Something that acknowledged the strange, fragile thing hovering between us. But the words tangled in my throat, heavy with everything we hadn’t talked about yet.
The night was still ours, stretched wide and glittering, and I wasn’t ready to rush it. Instead, I tucked the penguin more securely under my arm and let Tino lead us through the rest of the carnival, my thoughts racing even as my body stayed perfectly in step with his.
We tried one more game—one Tino lost spectacularly, sending the ball ricocheting off the edge of the platform—and then another, where I managed to win a packet of candy canes that we immediately opened and shared, the sugar sharp on my tongue.
We walked slower now, our shoulders brushing more often, laughter coming easier.
At one point, a group of girls ran past us, shrieking with laughter. One of them clipped my shoulder and I stumbled forward. Tino reached out instinctively, steadying me with hands on my waist, while I rested my hands on his shoulders to stay upright.