Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
CHLOE
Isit on the edge of my bed. My hands are still trembling from the cold.
My coat is in a puddle on the floor. My antlers and bulb necklace lie tangled on the nightstand.
I haven’t even taken my boots off. What just happened?
The question loops through my brain like a broken music box that won’t shut off.
Hanging out with Drew was supposed to be a safe way to live out one of the dreams I’d been nursing since I met the man.
The stakes were low because I knew he wasn’t interested in me.
But somewhere between our skating lesson, cocoa in the lounge, and that quiet walk under the lights, things change.
I can’t stop thinking about the way his hands felt on my back, how his eyes found mine, and the soft way he told me I was beautiful right before we kissed, and my brain short-circuited.
I press my hands to my cheeks. They’re still warm and probably as red as Rudolph’s nose. Was that real? Did he feel it too?
I want to believe the answer is yes. That I didn’t imagine any of it. But then Emma showed up. And now I can’t stop wondering what would’ve happened next.
Part of me wants to march back downstairs, find Drew, and ask him point-blank what the kiss meant to him. But I won’t. Because I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the answer. That’s probably why I ran away like a coward.
I kick off my boots, tug my sweater dress over my head, and swap it for my softest snowflake pajamas. Then I climb under the covers and pull the blanket over my head, like that might shield me from the confusion swirling around in my chest.
My phone buzzes against the nightstand just as I’m burrowing deeper under the covers, still pretending last night ended with Drew confessing he’s always loved me instead of me panicking and bolting. I groan and crack one eye open. A text from Emma lights up the screen.
Emma: Breakfast?
I stare at the message, weighing my options. I could hide under these blankets until it’s time to head to the rink for lessons at ten. But avoiding Emma will only make things worse.
Chloe: What time?
Emma: Now?
I snort. Of course she’s already down in the lobby.
Chloe: Be down in ten.
Emma: Mm-kay. Meet me at the cafe. I just ordered you a peppermint mocha. Omelet to go with it?
Chloe: You know me. *Winking emoji*
With a sigh, I throw off the covers and tug on a pair of Mynt Athletic leggings, a pine-green tank top, and a soft resort hoodie. My hair’s a mess, but I manage to twist it into a loose braid before pulling on my boots and heading downstairs.
The café smells like cinnamon and roasted coffee beans. The quiet clink of spoons against ceramic mugs feels way too chipper for seven a.m. Emma’s already claimed a corner table, waving me over like she’s been here for a few hours.
“You’re the best,” I mumble, sliding into the seat across from her and wrapping my hands around the peppermint mocha. I take a long sip, letting the chocolate and crushed peppermint melt on my tongue. “I didn’t realize how badly I needed this.”
“Did you get any sleep? Because you look like you were visited by the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future,” she says gently, not teasing for once.
“Not much,” I mutter.
A beat of silence stretches between us while we sip our drinks. Then Emma says softly, “I wanted to apologize again. For last night. I still feel awful.”
A server arrives with two omelets. The plates are loaded with potatoes, spinach, peppers, and chicken. “It’s fine, Em,” I murmur, picking up the salsa bottle and dumping some on top of the chicken.
Emma leans forward, brow raised. “It’s not. I know you’ve been pining after my brother since Fresno. I should’ve realized you two were having your ‘ah-ha’ moment. If someone crashed my big moment, I’d be furious.”
I freeze, fork halfway to my mouth. “I didn’t realize it was that obvious,” I murmur.
Emma smiles. “You looked like a kid on Christmas morning. And so did he.” She pauses. “For what it’s worth, Drew hasn’t looked that happy since before he moved to LA.”
I blink at her, caught off guard by the weight of her words. Was he really happy last night? “Are you being serious?” I ask carefully.
“Yes.” Emma nods as she slices into her omelet. “He’s been mopey for the last couple months.” She pauses, glancing up at me. “But last night. . .the way he looked at you, Chloe? I don’t think he’s ever looked at anyone like that.”
I drop my gaze to my plate and nudge a piece of egg around with my fork. Part of me wants to believe every word she’s saying. That maybe this isn’t all one-sided. But there’s still an alarm blaring in my mind screaming “Caution, caution.”
“I don’t know what to think,” I say finally, my voice low. “It felt real, but I’ve never been on Drew’s radar like that before.”
Emma tilts her head. “Are you sure about that?”
I look up, startled.
“Maybe he didn’t make it obvious, but he’s always tuned in whenever your name has come up in conversation. And I don’t think it was just because you were my friend.” She stirs her coffee slowly. “I always thought it might be more than that. And last night confirmed it for me.”
I stare at her, the fork slipping from my fingers and clinking softly against the plate. “He’s never said anything,” I manage.
Emma lifts one shoulder. “Drew’s always been weird about sharing any of his feelings with me. It’s not something brothers usually discuss with their younger sisters.”
My stomach knots tighter. “He said I looked beautiful,” I murmur, more to myself than to her.
Emma pauses mid-sip and gives me a puzzled look.
I look away, focusing on my half-eaten omelet and poking at the remaining salsa with my fork.
I’ve never been more tempted to break down and tell her everything.
Emma’s been my best friend since freshman year.
We’ve never kept things from one another.
Not my skating struggles or even her ill-advised attempt to flirt with my hot calculus TA by crashing his office hours despite not even being in the class.
But this? This feels different. Because what’s happening with Drew, I want to hold on to for a little while longer before the rest of the world gets a say.
So I keep it to myself. Just a little longer.
Until I figure out where this is really going.
I force a small smile and push my plate aside.
“I think I need to get out on the ice for a bit. Clear my head.”
Emma’s features soften. “You okay?”
“I will be,” I say, managing a small smile.
She doesn’t press. And I’m grateful for that. There are so many questions about Drew swirling around in my head. Can I trust him? Nick wasn’t the only guy who has ever let me down. The same thing happened at the Nationals banquet two years ago.
I finished fourth and was awarded the pewter medal. Most skaters wouldn’t be too happy about it, but I was thrilled. It was still a podium finish. And that was my best result to date.
“Hey, Chloe, congrats,” Adam, a bronze medalist in ice dance, said as we lined up backstage for the final bow of the exhibition gala performance.
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to the closing banquet with anyone?”
I hesitated. I usually skipped those things. It was awkward to be alone. My coaches were never able to go, and it wasn’t like I had my family here to support me. This time, however, something in me wavered. “I was on the fence,” I admitted.
“Oh,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I was going to ask if you wanted to be my date.”
My throat tightened. A date? I hadn’t been on one since Nick. The word alone sent a ripple of nerves through me. Did I say yes? Make up an excuse? I hated how hard it was to tell what the right answer was when my anxiety kicked in.
Still, maybe it was time I put myself out there. Adam didn’t seem like the type who’d bail. “Sure,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Awesome. It starts at seven. Do you want me to swing by your room at six forty-five?”
Heat seared my cheeks. “I’m not staying at the official hotel. So it’ll have to be the lobby.”
“Oh, OK. That works.”
At times like these, I wished my pride would allow me to let my parents pay for my travel and accommodations.
They wouldn’t bat an eyelash at the expense.
It would’ve been so much easier to be where everyone else was staying.
But then I remembered that help from them always came with strings. I was better off on my own.
The venue was a twenty-minute walk from my motel. It was just after five. I should have just enough time to make a pit stop at Zara and find something to wear, since I didn’t bring a formal dress with me.
When I got there, the pickings were slim, but I managed to find a simple black dress that would do the job. Back at the motel, I showered, applied a light layer of makeup, and headed out the door in record time. I sent Adam a text.
Chloe: On my way. See you soon.
During the walk to the hotel, my heart was racing. I smoothed my hands down the skirt of my new dress for the tenth time, willing myself not to overthink things. This didn’t have to mean anything big.
It was just a banquet, just one evening. Still, a tiny flicker of hope stirred in my chest. Could Adam be interested in me? Was there a sliver of a chance that tonight’s date could turn into something more?
I arrived in the lobby at six-forty. There was no sign of Adam.
It was fine. I was early. He did say six forty-five.
I found a seat near the fireplace and crossed my ankles, watching the elevator with quiet anticipation.
Ten minutes went by. Then twenty. The flicker of hope started to dim. I sent him another message.
Chloe: Just checking in. I’m in the lobby. Are you on your way down?
I hit Send and glanced toward the front desk, half-expecting to see him coming around the corner. Nothing.
Another thirty minutes slipped by before my phone finally buzzed.