I look down at the large mug in front of me. It’s still hot, but I pick it up and take another sip of the foamy top layer just to speed things up.
“My conversation is that bad, huh?” Andy asks flatly, but his eyes say he’s joking. “Or is it the blood?”
“Both,” I deadpan. Some people might find my sarcasm mean, but Andy grins in a way that makes me forget what I’m doing for a second. I take another sip of the hot chocolate and burn my tongue again.
As if he’s trying to redeem himself from his poor ice-skating performance, Andy blows on his chocolate and takes a sip while pinching his nose with his other hand.
“Pretty impressive,” I say.
“Is that a semi-compliment from you? I’ll take it.”
I laugh, and for a second it makes me forget all about the paper heart. Okay, not quite—the thought is still nagging me.
“Let’s play a game to distract you,” Andy says, like he can read my mind.
“What kind of game?”
“A people-watching game,” he says, smiling.
“Sounds creepy,” I reply, in part because it does sound creepy but mostly because I want to get this show on the road. The point of him coming was not to hold me back.
“First of all, it isn’t nearly as creepy as these paper hearts,” he says. “Ever wonder if you have a serial killer on your hands leading you to your death?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, someone like that would really want to break into Arlington High School to deliver a paper heart.”
“Wait a second. I thought you said you didn’t know who was sending these?”
“I don’t, only that I got the first one in school.”
Andy’s eyes widen. “How can I be your detective if you don’t give me all the clues, Ella?”
I put down my hot chocolate. It clinks on the table. “Can you just tell me this theory already?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he says sarcastically. “Okay, so the theory is you can tell how much someone loves somebody by the Hot Chocolate Test.”
I squint my eyes. “Go on.”
He drops his tissues and smiles widely like he’s fully excited about what he’s about to disclose. “It’s all about how they drink their hot chocolate. Take that couple, for example,” he says, pointing his finger on the table diagonally to the two people sitting on a stone bench by the fireplace. To me, they look like your average couple. The girl looks effortlessly cool in patterned leggings and a puffer vest, only I’d give her the benefit of the doubt and bet that she didn’t try on everything in her closet this morning like I did. She’s sitting next to the guy and talking.
“I don’t get it,” I admit, wondering where on earth this is going. “What am I looking for?”
“You don’t see it? She’s paying more attention to her marshmallow than her fellow.”
I glance back at the couple. It’s a stretch—she looks like she’s just drinking her hot chocolate to me.
“Now look at him,” Andy says, watching my eyes. “See how when he takes a sip, he doesn’t take his eyes off her?”
Even though I think this is ridiculous, I want this game to be over, so I do as Andy tells me to. Only when I do, I realize he doesn’t take his eyes off her and Andy’s observation is right. Still, the Hot Chocolate Test sounds like a stretch.
“So what does that tell you about their relationship?”
He eyes me intently. “You really want to know?”
“Isn’t that the point of the game?” I ask, confused—why is anything with the words hot chocolate getting taken this seriously?
“I’m not sure your romantic heart can handle the truth.”
I groan. “Please just mansplain your theory to me so we can get this over with.”
There’s a long pause, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s debating whether or not to tell me or because he really doesn’t have a theory and he’s just thinking about what to say now. That’s the vibe I’ve been getting from him lately—that he’s making everything up as he goes along. The guy who will just chase paper hearts with some girl he barely knows for the entertainment of it. He’s the complete opposite of me, who overthinks everything, including why this long pause is taking so long. I’m about to open my mouth when he finally does.
“The way they’re drinking their hot chocolate tells me a lot of things, as does their body language. Right now, he’s the nice guy who dotes on her every word, but eventually he’ll grow tired of being taken for granted and break up with her. She’ll be heartbroken and beg for him back. Maybe he’ll take her back or maybe he’ll realize there are more important things than a pretty face and find someone that wants to look at him while she drinks hot chocolate too. There are just some people who love the idea of love but not love itself.”
I blink at him uncontrollably. “Geez. All that because she was trying to get a marshmallow?”
“Yeah, when there’s a guy that’s sweeter right in front of you.”
I roll my eyes. “What has made you so incredibly jaded? Did some girl break up with you or something?”
His eyes blaze like I hit a nerve, and I have the instinct to apologize immediately until he shakes his head at me. “No, but I’m just not the type of person who follows some paper hearts aimlessly over town.”
He grins, but I don’t grin back. It’s a low blow and he knows it.
“Oh come on,” he starts, but I’m already getting up. I don’t care about what he has to say to me next or that I haven’t finished my hot chocolate or that he got a bloody nose, because suddenly it feels like he deserved it. I stomp toward the exit.
“Wait, Ella,” Andy says, following me. “I didn’t mean it like that. I like that you have hope someone is really out there doing a romantic scavenger hunt for you. It’s endearing. You really are a glass-half-full kind of girl.”
I shoot my head around. “You don’t know anything about me.”
My words are harsher than I mean them to be. His grin fades fast, and I think about apologizing. After all, he doesn’t know about my accident or why this is so important to me.
I have the thought now to tell Andy about everything. If I don’t, I’m lying by omission, right?
But as I open my mouth, I can’t bring myself to say anything. Maybe it’s because I’m secretly enjoying this banter we have going on. It’s silly. It’s fun. Opening up about something serious would be a buzzkill—or at least, it feels like it could be.