All Madison wants for Christmas is the same person who once wanted her. Free from the shackles of her broken heart, she's finally ready to give love another shot. But is Madi too late to win back the man of her dreams?
SEQUEL to The Heartbreak Hypot...
Slowly, Blair turned to regard his cousin. He assessed him with a long, puzzled look. So quickly that I could have missed it, James nodded his head in mine and Noah's direction.
Or mine or Noah's direction.
I couldn't be sure which one of us he was referring to.
But the gesture alone seemed to do the trick for Blair. His blank stare was quickly replaced by one dripping with understanding.
"Oh!" he gasped. Rather hurriedly, he took a few steps towards me until we were practically face-to-face. He leaned in, grazing his purple lips against my cheek. "Nice to meet you, babe. I'll see you around. Be sure to try the eclairs—they're divine!"
"Nice to meet you, too," I managed to get out before James dragged his cousin away. Just as quickly as they'd joined me, the two of them disappeared into the crowd, lost to the expensive sea of black suits and gowns.
Slightly curious and slightly frazzled, I turned to consult Noah with a look.
But he wasn't paying attention to me at all.
His eyes were still cast in our vanishing companions' direction, his movements slow and considered as he raised his flute to his lips. And it seemed that only I'd noticed his phone buzzing in his hands—a notification from Tinder or Hinge or Grindr, no doubt.
I cleared my throat, nodding to the ringing device.
He didn't even consult it before locking the screen.
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Despite taking dance classes from the age of three through thirteen, I've never been the most coordinated person on the planet.
Which was how I knew that skiing was a terribly bad idea.
Don't get me wrong—I'd tried it twice before. I'd been skiing with Lola's family way back at the start of high school, and there was the class trip in eighth grade to thank for my basic understanding of polar aerodynamics, too.
But that was so long ago.
I was practically a different person then. I was young. I was hopeful. I was so sickeningly starry-eyed, so readily willing to give anything a fair shot. I had so much faith in the universe that it was almost chilling to look back on.
The new me was learning to love life again, sure, but I was still cautious. I was careful. And I imagined that re-learning to ski would end similarly to the first time that Eli tried to teach me to surf: with me splayed out like a starfish at the foot of the shore, my mouth full of salt and my hair full of sand.
Needless to say, I was more than happy to sit skiing out. To do what I did best—to stand on the sidelines and watch everyone else have fun.
But that wasn't on Noah's list. Or James' list; the jury was still out on whose list we were following. And, after the Blair debacle, I was done making assumptions.
