Page 77 of Not in My Book

The minute he hung up, I raced around my apartment. After I showered and dried my hair, I shucked on a Christmas sweater and slathered on makeup. So much adrenaline kicked through my veins, I had to redo my eyeliner three times.

The Holiday Village at Union Square was always a mad house. On Christmas Eve, it was unbearable. I stood at the southeast entrance, where all the crafts people held their booths, and was immediately overwhelmed. Aidenhad texted me to meet him at the Wafels and Dinges booth (most likely because he knew I would drag him there anyway), but there was an impenetrable crowd of people surrounding the booth.

I was so short that it was impossible for me to peek my head up over the crowd, but I tried as hard as I could on my toes.

“Rosie!” a voice barked out.

I whipped around and Aiden Huntington was pushing past people in a black knitted Christmas sweater. His peacoat was open, a beanie snug on his head.

I warmed looking at him despite the cold and smiled, trying my best to get to him.

When I finally made it, people were swarming all around and I was pushed forward into his chest—but he caught me, his arms grasping my waist steadily. He sent a death glare to whoever had shoved me before looking down and meeting my gaze. The smell of his cologne and the feel of his hands on me had been the star of my dreams since we kissed, since we wrote that scene together. I was thrilled to finally be standing here with him after wishing I could fix everything between us. Aiden Huntington was better in reality than any sort of fiction.

“Hi,” I said softly, reluctantly stepping away from his touch.

“Hi.” His lips quirked up. “Merry Christmas. I like your getup.”

I pulled back, pulling my coat open even wider. “What? This old thing?” A couple of Christmases ago my dad bought the entire family llama Christmas sweaters. He was so eager for us to be in touch with our Peruvian culture that whenever he saw anything with a llama he bought it immediately. This particular sweater had a llama with a scarf around its neck and a Santa hat on its head. Real bells hung off the sweater, and I’d paired it with my jingle bell earrings. “And look at you—I’m shocked you own a Christmas sweater.”

He looked down at his sweater, pulling his peacoat open so I got a better look. It was more wintery than Christmassy, but it was probably as festive as Aiden got. It was a thick black sweater with a red pattern across the chest. A thin black scarf was hanging loosely around his neck.

“It’s my only one. My mom got it for me in high school; I’m surprised it still fits.”

“I like it.” I smiled up at him. His green eyes met mine briefly before looking away, toward one of the booths. I rubbed my fingerstogether, suddenly nervous. I had been so excited to see Aiden and to have something to do on Christmas, I’d forgotten that the last time I saw Aiden I was close to crying and yelling. “Aiden,” I said tentatively. “Are we—”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, then grimaced. “You should know how sorry I am. I know … what I said wasn’t right or fair, and I keep turning it over in my head. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

I took a breath. “I think if Max can forgive Hunter, then I can forgive you,” I said softly. “I’m sorry, too.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” He smiled softly. “How about for the rest of break, you be Rosie and I’ll be Aiden?” His gaze met mine, unwavering, determined. “No secret messages, no unspoken words. Just us.”

I nodded once, smiling. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Because as Aiden, I’d like to tell you, Rosie, that you’re delusional if you think I’m waiting in this line for a Belgian waffle. I had no idea it’d bethislong.”

I tsked, observing the line. It had wrapped around the small booth, infringing on the space of another. The waffle makers were moving at lightning speed, adding Nutella and powdered sugar.

“It’s not justanyBelgium waffle. It’s Wafels and Dinges. It’s a New York staple.”

Aiden rolled his eyes and said, “As a New Yorker, I can certify it’s not astaple.C’mon, let’s keep walking. When I walked in, I saw a booth you’re going to love.”

Aiden led me toward the other side of the park. I tried my best to follow him but people kept walking between us, bumping into me and pulling us further apart. Aiden looked over his shoulder for me, frowning when I wasn’t there. I raised my hand and when he spotted me, he stopped in the middle of traffic. Plenty of people gave him glares, but he ignored them and just held his hand out to me. A silent question that I hesitated to answer. I told myself that the kiss was still forgotten, and he was only doing this so we wouldn’t get lost.

When my glove-clad hand slid into his palm, I could feel the warmth of his skin. He squeezed once before he continued walking, and I clung to him.

He nodded at a booth as we approached and I immediately gasped. “Oh my God.”

He grinned. “I thought you’d like this.”

“Aiden, Ihaveto get one. I don’t care the cost. I will go bankrupt for these.”

I stepped into the booth and started flipping through the small prints. They were dogs in the place of iconic movie scenes. It had theTitanicJack and Rose pose but with a corgi and a pug. A poodle was holding their skirt down a la Marilyn Monroe. A beagle was dancing to “Greased Lightning.”

And then I found it—the perfect print to hang in my room. “Aiden!” I said, waving him over. “This one. This is the perfect one.”

He stepped forward, his head tilted. “What’s this from?”

I snapped my head toward him. “When Harry Met Sally.The greatest film ever made.”

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