Noah mirrors my movement, standing still beside me, and his gaze burns the side of my face. I fight the urge to squeeze my eyes shut in the hopes that the ground will open up and swallow me whole.
I had been so preoccupied with the fact that I was wearing a different-colored sweater that I forgot to come up with a plan for transportation.
“Savannah?” Noah hesitates.
I’m sure if I were to peel my eyes from his car, I would find confusion written all over his face. Or maybe he’s just looking at me like I’m insane. Who knows?
“I’m sorry.” I shake my head, attempting to clear the fog. “I know this is going to sound crazy but… would you mind if I drive?”
I finally look at him, and my heart splinters a little when I don’t find confusion, but rather worry etched in his otherwise beautiful eyes.
“What’s going on, Sav?”
More than I can tell you in the middle of a parking lot before a first date.
“I just—” I fill my lungs with air and a pinch of confidence. “I don’t let other people drive me.”
“Ever?”
My lips form a tight line and I shake my head.
When I think he’s going to push for more information, or fight me to drive, he surprises me by lifting my hand and setting his keys in my palm.
The tension in my shoulders immediately drops. My mouth parts, and I feel an overwhelming desire to clutch his hand between mine. He doesn’t understand what this means to me, or he’s just kind enough to let me get away with it, because he opens the driver's door for me without another word.
“Turn left up here at the stop sign.”
My apartment is as close to campus as you can get without actually being considered ‘on campus’. The three-minute drive that Noah directs me on through our little lake town is familiar, though. The music is barely audible as we drive down a quiet, tree-lined road, and he points to the only house on the dark street. Pulling into the driveway of the over-the-top, grand tudor-style house, I notice all the lights are off inside. Aside from a faint glow coming from the backyard, it's pitch black. We roll to a stop, and I put the car in park before leaning over the steering wheel and looking out the windshield.
“Thisis where we’re having our date?” I ask, looking up at Noah’s house.
He doesn’t answer, and before I can undo my buckle, he’s already opening my door and holding his hand to me.
My boots crunch against the snow as he leads us off the driveway and around the side of the house.
“Where’s the rest of your crew?” I ask.
His hold on my hand tightens as he looks over her shoulder at me. “They’re under strict orders to stay out until the sun comes up.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little presump—” The air stills in my lungs when we turn the corner to his backyard. “Oh my god.” I let go of his hand only to cover my gaping mouth. “Clark Griswold, what did you do?”
He chuckles softly, sounding slightly nervous.
My eyes can’t pick a spot to focus on. Miles worth of Christmas lights steam across the entirety of the backyard. Colored lights are wound around the trees that line the lake, white lights are draped across the pergola over the patio, and a mix of both wrap around the banister of the stairs that lead up to Noah’s balcony. The same balcony where all of this started weeks ago.
“You did all of this?”
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal, scratching the back of his neck in the most endearing way. “Silas held the ladder while bitching that Coach wouldn’t approve of such dangerous activities.”
“He wouldn’t…” I trail off when I spot a pile of blankets folded by the fire pit, with a tray full of ingredients sitting on top of them. “You got s’mores?” I ask, turning to face him.
“I hope the real deal is as good as the flavored stuff.” He closes the small distance between us by tucking his fingers through my belt loops and pulling me in closer to him. My eyes flutter closed when he drops his forehead to mine, and his minty breath is a whisper against my lips when he says, “I’ve got one more surprise.”
He drops a kiss to my forehead and I open my eyes. He takes a step back, lacing our fingers together, and turns toward the lake.
A thick lump forms in my throat, and when my nose starts to burn, I know it doesn’t have anything to do with the cold. Two pairs of Bauer skates rest against the dock. One pair is bigger than the other and slightly used; the other is brand new.
“Oh, I… I don’t skate.”
