I want to do is work on the first day of Christmas Break, but when FarmCo calls, I answer.

Deck the Halls plays from the radio and drills into my head. There's a pause in the shoppers going through the checkout, so I have a second to breathe. With heavy eyelids, I scan the silver, red, and green decorating the dull browns of the grocery store's interior. Hipsters with scarves, dudes in thick-rimmed glasses, moms in yoga pants—nothing changes around here. Minutes drag into hours behind this checkout counter, packing gluten-free this and organic-that into paper bags.

In my head, I'm on the ice. The puck is at my stick, and the other team charges me as I weave through them like a shark in a sea of fish. The image of Luke, Eric, and Mason sends my fantasy/memory to a screeching halt. At last practice, I overheard them saying, "He's such a freak, did you see the way he was standing there like that?"

"Yeah man, one minute he's on fire, the next he's like a stunned idiot."

"Kid seriously needs to get his head checked."

It doesn't matter who said what. I don't even get what they were talking about—so what if I space out sometimes, it's just because I haven't been sleeping lately. School and hockey are a lot to juggle, but I'll be fine for the Brantford game. I always am.

Davis, my beady-eyed manager, hobbles past and jerks his thumb at me. "Wexler, take yer break."

Finally. I pass shelves of overpriced food to get to the breakroom, where Katie stands in a uniform that matches mine: a black T-shirt, a green apron, and tan pants. Her phone's pressed to her ear while tears stream down her flushed face.

"Luke, don't hang up on me. Luke—don't!" A moment of silence, and she stares into her phone like it's a black hole.

"Hey, what's going on?" I ask, but I already know. It's the same old shit. One minute Luke's making her the happiest I've ever seen her, then with the flip of a switch their relationship turns nuclear.

As soon as Katie sees me, she crashes into my chest. I hug her back and breathe in the familiar smell of her vanilla body spray.

"What happened?" I ask and try to ignore the budding fire in my chest, old feelings I try to keep on lockdown. Katie and I will never happen. I've accepted that.

Pulling away, she dabs her eyes with her sleeve. "He's mad at me again. I swear he thinks I'm trying to hook up with every guy at school. Now apparently it's David Fuentes I'm after. How stupid is that? All I did was like his picture!"

"Luke's an asshole, Katie. You can do better than him."

"It's more complicated than that. You don't understand anything, El." She storms off.

Okay then.

It's hard not to feel the burn of rejection, but at this point, I'm pretty numb to all of it. After grabbing a bagel BLT Mom made for me from my locker, I slump to a table and plop down, unwrapping the cellophane. I take a crunchy bite and wash it down with chocolate milk, but that just makes me think of Lucy.

It's been a week since I asked for her number, and I still haven't built the nerve to text her, which makes me feel like an even bigger pussy every day. Fidgeting with the blue case of my iPhone, I picture her freckled face and her smile. Lucy hides her mouth when she smiles, and it's the cutest damn thing I've ever seen. But I don't just think about her because she's cute—it's Lucy herself I find interesting. I mean, she's snarky as hell with me, but she was proper and polite around my parents.

Just who is this girl?

Rubbing my thumb over my screen, I catch my reflection in the glass. I want to text her, but I don't want to be annoying. Part of me thinks she just gave me her number out of pity. Maybe it's obvious I have no friends. And Lucy doesn't seem to like me all that much...

Ugh, fuck it.

Coach always says to take your shot as soon as you see it. Well, I've waited long enough, and the worst that can happen is she rejects me. I type out a quick hey, and as soon as my thumb hits the send button, regret curls around my throat.

Minutes tick by, and I'm too sweaty to eat my sandwich. Just as I'm about to start pacing, my phone buzzes. I open it immediately.

Hey, it's Elliot

My heart sinks into my stomach. Please, dear God, tell me she didn't give me the wrong number.

E L L I O T. Who is this???

Are you serious right now?

It IS you

My confidence swells. If she gave me her real number, maybe there is a chance she wants to be friends. Actual friends, so I text her back.

It's Friday, so you know what that means, stalker girl

My parents aren't home lol. Do you wanna hang out?

Idk? Watch a movie or something. Make food

Eight sound good?

Every minute the clock ticks past eight stabs my chest. Lucy said she'd be here, but it's already twenty after and I'm still alone. And I don't always like being alone.

Sometimes it's great—I get to do whatever I want and not feel judged by anyone but me. Other times, I hate it. I feel isolated, tiny, alone. Because sometimes, the worst person to be judged by is me.

Three light taps at the door make my heart leap. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, totally cool. It's not like I've been sitting here waiting or anything.

I whip open the door, where Lucy wears my blue hoodie over her green flannel with that huge leather jacket.

"Hey," I say.

"Hi." She steps inside and shuts the door. After she takes off her hat and smooths down her hair, she shoots me a venomous glare.

"Why did you take so long to text me?"

I rub the back of my neck. "Huh? I don't know. I was afraid it'd annoy you."

"It wouldn't have. I was waiting."

"Oh. Sorry."

Jeez, my bad, but does this mean she does like me?

This is only our fourth time meeting, but it's routine for us to go into the kitchen. Lucy takes her spot on the stool by the island while I stand on the other side. Her hair's so long, and I bet it feels like silk...

Okay, no, creepy thought. Stop.

"So..." I clear my throat. "Are you hungry?"

She shrugs. "I'm always hungry."

"Me too." I grin. "We're gonna get super fat if we hang out together."

Lucy brings her thumb to her bottom lip and bites on it. I don't know her that well, but she isn't the silent type, and there's a stitch in her brows that I don't get. Did I say something wrong?

A shiny green tin of Christmas chocolates sits on the other counter, so I move it to the island. Lucy's still not interested—even as I open the box, I don't see the usual stars in her eyes when I offer her sugar.

Okay, now I'm sweating. I must've said something off.

Lucy leans forward on the counter and looks me straight in the eyes. "Why did you invite me back here, Elliot?"

I shrug and pop a chocolate-covered almond in my mouth. "I don't know. To hang out?"

"Is it because you want sex or something?"

The almond shoots out of my mouth like a rocket. Well, not quite. Half-chewed bits spray out and land all over the granite. Sharp, jagged pieces poke at my throat as I choke out a response.

"What—no!" I pound at my chest with my fist.

"Shit, are you okay?" Lucy asks.

"Fine." When I look at her, she's all blurry through my watered eyes. "Can you say that again? I think I heard you—"

"You heard me right." She crosses her arms defiantly. "Just answer the question."

"No."

She scoffs. "Elliot—"

"That's the answer. I mean, of course not, what the hell? We barely know each other. I don't even know what your last name is."

Lucy's face goes red. "I think I should go."

She hops off the stool and flies down the hallway, and I stand there, stunned. I have literally no idea what just happened. She thinks I'm just trying to bang her? Am I trying to bang her? No, I invited her here to hang out! I wasn't even thinking about that!

Okay, half-lie. It'd crossed my mind once, but I'd erased it and reminded myself not to be a creep about a girl I hardly know.

She scuffles down the hall, so I rush to the door, where Lucy struggles to stuff her feet in her boots. My stomach knots up.

"Lucy, don't go."

When her boot won't go on her foot, Lucy grunts and drops it. Her bangs cling to her forehead, and she wipes them away with a frown.

"I cannot believe I just said that to you."

"I guess I get it?" I rub my neck. This is the single most awkward moment of my life. Lucy crosses her arms and pouts. "Okay, I don't get it at all," I say. "But I wasn't like... rejecting you."

Her eyes flare. "So you do want to."

"Fuck, I don't know. You're making this so weird."

"Well, so we're clear, I wasn't offering."

"I never thought you were."

"I just—I don't get why I'm here. Why are you being so nice to me? And don't say I don't know."

She mocks my voice, and though this situation's awkwardness is heavy, I crack a smile. Lucy isn't amused.

"I don't know what to say," I reply. "Sometimes two people meet and they just... start hanging out. I've never been asked why before."

She blinks.

"I'm saying that I like you, Lucy, and I want to get to know you more. It isn't about... that."

After a few agonizing moments of my cheeks being on fire, Lucy laughs and hides her mouth.

"You're kind of a loser," she says.

I let out a laugh of relief. "That's probably true. So are we good?"

"Yeah, we're good."

"You'll stay?"

She smiles. "Yeah, I'll stay."