My True Love Gave to Me: Twelve Holiday Stories by Stephanie Perkins Page B

and immediately started re-clasping her bra and buttoning her blouse.
    “Oh, shit.” I watched her, my stomach flooding with nervous butterflies. “Shit, I went too far, didn’t I?” When she didn’t answer right away, I said, “Haley?”
    She stood up and covered her face with her hands for a few seconds. When she removed them, her expression was worried. “What am I doing ?”
    “It was totally my fault,” I said.
    She started to pick up our still half-full wineglasses, then she put them back down and went to the door and pulled it open. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Shy. I’m sorry.”
    “I apologize, Haley. I got carried away—”
    “Just, please,” she said, cutting me off.
    And she wouldn’t look at me. That was maybe the worst part of all. If she’d have just looked at me, then she’d know how sincerely apologetic I was, and everything would be okay. But she never did.
    “Okay.” I moved through the door, into the hall. I hit the elevator button and stared at my shoes, listening to her door click closed behind me.
    Christmas Day
    Haley didn’t come down for a shower on Christmas morning.
    I waited around in the living room on the couch next to Olive, listening for her knock, but it never came.
    I stared at the text of my novel, but really I was analyzing the night before, from every possible angle. It always came down to the same thing: me. I knew she had a boyfriend. Yeah, maybe the fact that she didn’t fly home meant they were on the rocks or whatever, but still. I’d taken it too far.
    Why’d I have to be that guy?
    The one who always wanted more?
    I didn’t call home until noon because of the three-hour time difference. I talked to my dad a little, but mostly I talked to my sis. Merry Christmas, we both told each other. She described all the food she was making, and how Pops was driving to Chula Vista to pick up Grandma, who had promised to bring a big stack of tortillas. Then they were going to drive up to the cemetery with flowers. “It won’t be the same without you,” my sis told me.
    “Yeah.”
    “No, I’m serious, it’ll be the first time I’ve ever gone there without you.” She paused. “You better not be spending today alone, Shy. Because that would just be sad.”
    “Oh, hell no. A few friends are coming over and we’re baking a ham and shit. It’s gonna be legit.” I switched the phone from one ear to the other. “I still wish I was with you guys, though.”
    “By the way, Peanut’s tooth is better. We can tell ’cause he’s constantly hounding us for food again. Which you started.”
    I smiled, remembering how I used to sneak Peanut my dinner scraps on the sly.
    We talked a little more, about my old man, who she claimed was doing better, too, and then I told her I had to go get ready for my friends. We said our good-byes, but before she could hang up I said, “Oh, and Sofe?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Stay away from dudes.”
    I showered with the door open and put on the best shirt I’d packed for cat sitting, and I even put some of Mike’s gel in my hair, trying to tame my crop. Then I sat with the cat and read my book, though secretly I was still listening for a knock.
    Snow-Covered Stoop
    I woke up from a nap to the sound of Olive scratching at the front door.
    “Where you trying to go?” I said, climbing off the couch.
    Then I saw it.
    A small card on the ground, just inside the door. My name written in neat, girl handwriting. I picked it up and looked through the peephole. Nobody there.
    I tore open the envelope. A skinny Santa was on the front of the card, waving from behind the wheel of a hybrid convertible. The handwritten note inside said: “Leftover lasagna from the night you stood me up. Heat in microwave for two or three minutes. Also, Merry Christmas.”
    I opened the door and found a large plate covered in tinfoil. She didn’t hate me! The second I reached down for it, though, Olive squirted out into the hall.
    “Hey, man!” I set