Page 75 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
The sheriff shakes his head. “Might’ve been dumb, but it wasn’t nothing.” He turns to Three. “The kid sprayed a bunch of hearts all over one of the lockers.”
“He was working on the words ‘will you go’ when I apprehended him,” Carver interjects.
“I said it was dumb,” Sully chokes. “I didn’t think it would be big deal.”
Will you go. Red and Pink hearts. Girl’s locker room. The whole thing’s starting to make sense.
“Hey, Sully.” Three tilts his head. “You were gonna ask Cami Anderson to the Valentine’s Day Formal, weren’t you?”
His eyes pop wide, like he can’t believe anyone solved the mystery. “The sheriff didn’t say it was Cami’s locker.”
“No, he did not.” Three chuckles softly. “But I’ve seen the way you look at that girl. You’ve had your eyes on her ever since my seating chart put you two in desks right next to each other.”
“It was a promposal,” I say, offering Sully a smile of support.
He nods, but he still looks miserable. I would too if my college scholarship was on the line. “She was supposed to find the message when we got back from winter break.” He blows out a breath. “It was going to be the first clue in a two-week scavenger hunt leading to … me.”
“A prom what?” the sheriff asks.
“Ah, come on, Preston.” Three pushes out an amused scoff. “What are you, a hundred years old? That’s how the kids ask each other to the big dances now. They come up with these grand gestures, like baking cakes, making posters, or hijacking the intercom in the middle of morning announcements.”
“Please don’t tell my mom and dad,” Sully blurts, and it occurs to me for the first time that Three’s the adult they called here.
“Where are your parents?” I ask.
Sully grimaces. “They drove up to Rochester to bring my sister home for Christmas. She doesn’t have a car up at the U, so instead of having her take the train again, they made it a family day-trip.” His voice cracks on that last part. “They asked me to go with them,” he adds, “but I said I had too much stuff to do.”
Sheriff Bender frowns. “Stuff like vandalizing the high school?”
“All right.” Three throws up a hand. “Listen, Preston. You called me down here to decide if the district wants to press charges, and as the official administrator today, I’m going to go ahead and say there’s no need. We’re all good.”
“Really?” The sheriff scoffs. “You aren’t worried about the precedent?”
“I’m not. Because Sully and I are going to repaint Cami’s locker before anyone else has to find out about this.” Three turns to face Sully. “Aren’t we, Sullivan?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Fuller.” Sully nods so frantically, I’m afraid his head might roll right off his shoulders. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome.” Three clears his throat. “I happen to know there’s leftover paint in the custodial closet from when they redid the locker rooms a couple years back. Repainting shouldn’t take too long. In fact, I figure we can go take care of that right now.” He swivels to address me. “If that’s all right with you, Sara.”
“Of course.” A slow smile breaks across my face. “I’ll drive you to the school.”
“Thank you too, Ms. Hathaway.” Sully’s hands shake as he rises to his feet. “And I’m really sorry, Sheriff Bender. Deputy Townsend.” He hunches his shoulders. “I promise something like this will never happen again.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” Three says. “But next time? Skip the grand gesture and go with something a little more from the heart.”
“Like what?” Sully asks.
“Make the girl a grilled cheese sandwich.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sara
That sandwich comment had to be about me, right?
I’ve been tossing around a few other potential explanations—anyother explanation—but Occam’s Razor says the simplest solution is almost always the best one. Which is exactly why my insides feel like a china shop being decimated by a bull.
The idea that Three made me that grilled cheese as his own little promposal has my body fizzing with hope. And hope is more dangerous than a bullfight.
