The Christmas Theory

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

And then they were gone. Then, all that was left of her was the empty plate she'd left at my feet, a relic of a moment that my mind was too cloudy to interpret past the fact that it almost killed me.

I was quiet as I watched them join a herd of others at the top of the drive. Whatever that light display was, it must have been a big deal, and a part of me felt an urge to join them as they paraded up the street.

But Madi hadn't asked me. Not really.

Actually, she'd asked Dex first.

A foreign feeling stirred in my stomach. One that I couldn't quite put my finger on. But it drove me to meet Noah's inquisitive eye line, matching the tilt of his head with one of my own.

"They're pretty close," I said casually. At least, I hoped I sounded casual.

Clearly, I didn't. Not if the way Noah's eyebrows flew to the dark sky was any indication. "Dex and Madi?" he asked.

I nodded, peeling my gaze from his and down to my drink. "Like ... do you think—"

"Stop."

I looked back up at him, eyes wide and brow furrowed. "What?"

"Whatever this is," he clarified, waving his hands at me like I was on fire. "Stop. Immediately."

"I'm not—"

"Yeah," he snapped. "You are. You are, and you need to not."

I raised my hands in the air defensively, signaling that I was indeed stopping whatever it was that I was supposed to be stopping.

But if insinuating that Madi was into Dex was what I was supposed to be stopping, then no, I didn't stop that.

"They are going on a romantic stroll through town together," I informed him plainly, my voice taking on a sing-song quality that was supposed to sound humorous.

But Noah didn't laugh. Noah jolted forward in his seat, his expression pained as though I'd slapped him. "A romantic stroll that she just asked you to go on!"

"She was being nice."

"Yeah," he scoffed, masking a dry laugh. "Because our Madi is renowned for saying things she doesn't mean just to be nice." He jabbed a finger into the air, pointing to the top of the drive. "That was an invitation, you moron."

"I know that—"

"No, you don't. An invitation, James. An in-vi-ta-tion."

"Why are you talking like that? I'm not deaf."

Noah didn't answer me straight away. Rather, he fell silent, a variety of expressions washing over his face.

First, he looked thoughtful.

Then, he looked intrigued.

And, finally, he looked as though he'd solved every puzzle in the universe.

"No. Not deaf," he confirmed lowly. "You're dumb."

I rolled my eyes, moving them back to the derelict piñata. "Well, that's just not true."

"No, James." He shook his head, making absolutely no effort to soften his candor. "I think you're stupid or something. Did you hit your head on the way up here?"

An equally cutting quip was right on my tongue, but I didn't get a chance to fire it back at him.

"What color were Mila's bra straps?"