I looked into his eyes, and he looked so sincere my heart thumped. The expression on his face was almost desperate. It was as if he was more invested in this whole experiment than I was. Maybe he was. Before I had come along, Christopher had been bored out of his mind, looking at a long week off with nothing to do but watch bad videos on his computer and wishing he’d never agreed to go snowboarding with perfect strangers who were apparently jackasses. I wasn’t doing this just for me anymore. I was doing it for him, too. And I kind of liked that he cared so much. Most people probably would have thought that this whole exercise was lame, but Christopher was all in.
“Okay, fine,” I said, putting the bag down again and extracting a plane at random. It was a fighter jet–style plane, with a skinny end and two wide wings. I’d even drawn stars on the wings of this one, to pass the time while Christopher was folding another. “One more.”
“That’s definitely the one.” He nodded and readied the timer. I took a deep breath, pulled my arm back, and let the plane fly. This one felt completely different from the first one, and the second it left my hand, my heart seemed to soar right along with it. The plane sailed up and out, and then, almost as if caught on a breeze, it circled around until it was flying parallel to where we were standing. One of the kids down below noticed and pointed up.
“Oooh! Look!”
The other kids in the pool stopped what they were doing to watch, and I was sure that the second they noticed, the plane would dip and crash and disappoint them all, but it didn’t. It just kept flying, circling slowly down, until it finally came in for a landing right alongside the shallow end of the pool. Christopher clicked the timer. He stared at the screen.
“What? How long?” I asked as the kids below cheered. I even heard a parent call out, “That was amazing!”
Christopher turned the phone around. It read 31.6 seconds.
My heart leapt. “We did it!”
I jumped up and down and threw my arms around Christopher’s neck. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d get so excited about a paper airplane, but I was. Over thirty seconds! Who even knew it was possible?
“You did it!” Christopher said. “You get to cross the first thing off your list!”
I pulled back, and one of his crutches crashed to the floor. He lost his balance and leaned into me, and suddenly I found myself holding him up, his cheek brushing mine. His body was heavy and strong and warm.
“Whoa. Are you okay?” I asked, one hand against his very solid chest.
“Fine. I’m fine.” His voice was a bit deeper than usual as he pulled back and looked at me. His gaze flicked from my eyes to my lips and back again, leaving my lips tingling. “Congratulations,” he whispered.
“Um, thanks,” I whispered.
Suddenly everything around me went fuzzy. The pool noises grew sharper. But above it all my heart pounded like nothing I’d ever heard before.
Christopher pulled me the tiniest bit closer. There was a hitch in my chest. And then, he leaned toward me. And I leaned toward him. We were going to kiss. This was really happening. And I—
The elevator dinged. “Tess!”
Loretta emerged into the hallway and looked around at the fallen crutch, the open backpack, and Christopher, who was trying very hard to spring away from me on one good leg. Taking it all in, Loretta’s lips pressed themselves into a thin line.
“I heard someone was throwing paper airplanes into the pool, but I never thought it would be you. I assumed I’d find Lauren up here.”
“Sorry,” I said. “We just—”
“I suppose I have you to thank for this,” Loretta snapped at Christopher, looking him up and down with thinly veiled disdain. “Just because you feel the need to push the envelope, young man, that doesn’t mean you need to rope my granddaughter into it.”
“Sorry, Loretta.” Christopher looked at the floor.
“No! Don’t apologize,” I protested, confused at her comment. “Loretta, it wasn’t—”
“Clean all this up and get back to your room to change,” Loretta directed, interrupting. “We’re going to dinner in half an hour.”
Then she turned and strode off down the hallway toward the stairs.
“Okay. I’m starting to see what you mean about your grandmother being terrifying,” Christopher said.
“Thank you!” I replied, throwing up my hands.
And not just terrifying, I thought as I bent to pick up his crutch. But also a kiss-blocker.
TESS’S NEW YEAR’S BUCKET LIST
Make a paper airplane that actually flies (20 seconds at least) ✓
Sing in public
Strike up a conversation with a stranger
Wear high heels outside the house
Make out with a guy whose last name I don’t know
TP someone’s house
Get Adam Michel’s autograph
Get a short, stylish haircut
Ski a black diamond slope
Eat sushi
The Sinatra and Pasta dinner was held in one of the smaller party rooms, with round tables draped in red-and-white-checkered tablecloths. Wine bottles had been repurposed as candleholders at the center of each table, and the candles dripped wax onto the cut-glass plates beneath them. Waiters dressed in black tuxedos served heaping plates of spaghetti and meatballs, chicken parmesan, and Caesar salads. I sat between Lauren and Loretta and tried to enjoy the food—which all smelled delicious—but it was impossible. My stomach was—big shock here—filled to the brim with butterflies.
At least I’d crossed one thing off my list. Even after getting caught by Loretta and not getting kissed, it had felt beyond satisfying to take that Sharpie and make a big old check mark next to #1. I was officially on my way.
“Holy wow, Tess, if you’re going to keep doing that, at least do it with some rhythm,” Lauren said, slapping a hand down over mine on the table.
My heart skipped a startled beat, and I looked down. I was holding a fork in my flattened hand and didn’t realize until that moment that I’d been tapping it against the table.