Page 61 of The Kiss Class

“Hmm. I like that idea. Professor Arsenault has a new policy. Unlimited extra credit opportunities for his favorite student.”

“Your favorite?”

“My one and only.” Saying that out loud fills me up.

She nibbles her lipas if nervous.

I want to set her at ease. Be a good listener like yesterday and be present today.

“With my family in Canada, yours split between Colorado and the Caribbean, and us stranded here, it looks like it’s up to us to wrap up Christmas.”

“I didn’t get you a gift.”

“We could brave the weather on foot and go to the Christmas Market. Get each other something.”

“I didn’t receive a Secret Santa surprise this year and I do want to visit the market one last time.”

While we bundle up in an outrageous amount of cold weather clothing, including balaclavas and gloves that rival Hammer’s goalie gear, Cara tells me how this is the final Christmas Market.

“You mean for good?”

“They’re having a funding issue.” While we walk along the snow-quiet street that’s barely plowed, I learn about the Cobbiton Community Activities Commission and how their main donor passed away.

“That’s a shame. The market is amazing.” The charming small town with its quaint shops reminds me of Avignon near my family farm.

I hear about Cobbiton’s seasonal events, including 4thon 4thand the Cornament.

Cara says, “Cobbiton has a lot of character. When I’m in Los Angeles, I miss it.”

“When you’re here, do you miss LA?” I ask.

She pauses a beat. “No, I don’t.”

“In that case, I hope to get you back here next Christmas so we can do something to help out the CAC.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, voice muffled from under her scarf.

With a laugh, I answer, “I know a few localswho’re on a professional hockey team. Maybe you’ve heard of them? I bet we could raise some money to support the market if you help us get the word out.”

Cara pauses our trudge through the snow. “How would I do that? You have more of a social media presence than me.”

“You enrolled in Kiss Class, and now I’m thinking of attending Life School. As in living more for moments like these than online.”

As the snow drives and drifts in the wind, our gazes meet. I’d kiss Cara right here, right now, but our mouths are hidden and we’d probably freeze on the spot. In the spring, we’d thaw. Badaszek would find us, and I’d no longer be a resident of Nebraska or planet Earth.

“You’re not the guy I assumed you were,” she says.

“I don’t want to know who that was. Wouldn’t want you to know him either.”

In a mere twelve days, this woman has changed me. But I’m afraid she’ll forget all about me when she returns to Los Angeles, or she’ll leave everything she’s worked for and her father will blame me.

We resume our walk into town. The Christmas Market glows softly in the distance.

“They don’t open until after noontime, so everyone can go to church and spend time with their families. Then they come in droves. It’s a tradition and a nice way for people who spend Christmas alone to get out. I’ve never seen it so sparse, though.” Sadness laces Cara’s voice like she’s reached the end of an era.

Only a few people mill around, braced against the wind and snow. But the big tree glows brightly, flocked in white, and the church bells ding in the distance.

“There are a few stalls open,” I say.

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