Page 78 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

Autumn: I am not.

Meg: You’re so not helpful, Autumn Green.

Autumn: I’m always helpful. I spent so much time lying to myself and THAT wasn’t helpful.

Meg: Fine, but give the girl a week or two to understand her feelings.

Autumn: Why? You didn’t. You understood them quite well after five days.

Meg: Remember your first advice—your sound advice? Revisit.

Me: Can’t I just ask him to come look at my blister?

Autumn: If you’re five. But you’re not—how old are you again?

Me: Twenty-six.

Autumn: Then invite him up for some eggnog or a make-out beneath the tree. Whatever you’re up for.

Me: I can make cakes in mugs.

Autumn: Perfect. Maybe say a little more than I have cakes in mugs. Try a text out on us. We’ll help.

Meg: Promise.

I breathe out. Okay. I can do this. I can invite a boy up to my place. A cute boy. A nice boy. A boy that isn’t really a boy anymore and I should really stop calling him that.

I pull in air through my nose, count to five, and breathe out through my mouth, counting to seven. I can do this. I can even not be a dork about it.

I think a minute more, then pull my texting app back up.

Me: Hey, want a cake in a mug? I’m trying a new recipe.

But I can’t decide, so I add a few more options for the girls to choose from.

Me: Or?—

Hey! Thanks for the visit today. We should do it again. How about now? Or?—

I’m glad we’re friends, Elliot. Want to get together tonight? Or?—

I have a blister. I need you to kiss it better.

I smirk. That last one is for Meg. It’ll get her all riled. And I’m feeling a little better now that I’ve got some support. Autumn might be right. Sharing my feelings with the two of them was hard, but I feel better.

And I really do—for three whole seconds. A reply comes in, but it’s not from Autumn or Meg.

Elliot: Wow, that’s a lot of invitations. How can I turn them all down?

I stare at the message. Because there is his name. And his message. And above it are the four options I sent to the girls. Only they aren’t on the girl’s text thread. They are on Elliot’s.

Suddenly my phone becomes one hot potato and a wail cries from my lungs. One that Elliot may be able to hear just below me. I fold my lips closed with the thought and fumble my phone back in place. My breaths come out like an angry hog, nose flaring. What am I supposed to do now?

I switch back to my text with Autumn and Meg and hit FaceTime call. They got me into this and they will get me out.

“Woo! Hoo! FaceTime call!” Autumn says. Her grin is wide, and her long, wavy brown hair is pulled up and piled into a bun on top of her head. “Ooo—you do not look happy, Bonnie. Everything okay?”

Meg answers two seconds later, not giving me a chance to answer thatNO, I am not okay at all.

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