The Holiday Switch(33)

I swirl my hot chocolate in the cup to distract myself from my growing curiosity.

“There’s a bouldering competition the third of January. It’s for newbs like me.”

    “You didn’t look like a newb.”

“It only looks impressive to those who don’t climb, but I’m very new. The competition is why I’m here, in Holly. Climb Holly is sponsoring the event. I asked Tita Lou to take me in for the winter. I made it seem like I needed a job and wanted to work instead of heading back to California, where I would have just ended up sitting on my butt—though I do need a job to pay for the climbing.”

As a reader, I detect a crater-size plot hole, like why does this need to be a secret at all? But the conversation feels serious. And I’m not going to push it; keeping his secret is easy enough to do.

“I guess you’re excused, then,” I say.

“For what?”

“For taking my hours this winter.” But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret it immediately.

“Oh. Oh dang. I’m sorry.” Sincerity bleeds in his tone. “I had no idea.”

“Don’t say that. I hate that.”

“What?”

“Pity.” Again, I’m shocked at what I’m saying. Either the hot chocolate or Teddy has loosened my tongue.

“It’s not pity. Just…sorry. I didn’t mean…” Then he half laughs. “That’s why you’re even more upset when I don’t do what you ask. It explains the fire you’re always laying down on me.”

For some reason, the thought of me as fire sparks joy. A smile worms its way onto my lips.

“Now you’re just being smug.”

I laugh. “No, you’re right. It might explain that tirade the other day.”

    He winces. “I deserved it.”

I shrug.

“See? That’s fire.” Teddy sits up. “Thanks for keeping my secret. This competition—it means a lot to me.”

His gaze is so intense that I look down at my hot chocolate. Suddenly I feel this need to share too. “When you said that you’re starting to get tired of keeping secrets—I get that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My blog. I’m at this point where…” I’m not sure where I’m going with my train of thought, with the internship application on my mind and the second anniversary coming up, so I heave a breath. “I feel like I’m in a little bit of a limbo.”

“Limbo with your blog? It’s pretty awesome in my opinion.”

“You think?”

He nods. “It’s why I asked you about premed. You know, at Scrooge’s? The vibe I get from you is that you’d be a writer. Not to say that you wouldn’t do well at anything else.”

“It’s not practical to be a writer. That’s just time-tested. My mother’s a nurse, and she has never gone without a job. She pulled us through when…” I think about how to frame my family history so that it’s not saying too much. I’m not ashamed of what happened, but I don’t want my family to be judged, ever. “…things were rough. I will always have writing. I don’t have to lose it.”

“True. But there’s only so much time during the day, and shouldn’t you be doing something that you enjoy?”

“That’s a privilege, though, isn’t it?”

In my head, there is a true delineation between premed Lila and blogger Lila. Saying this out loud to Teddy, however, I realize I actually didn’t think this all the way through. Once college begins, will I have to let go of blogger Lila? Will there be time to blog? Will I be limiting myself if I choose one or the other?

    “I still don’t get why you’re keeping it a secret,” he says.

“It’s my parents. They’ve got…rules.”

“They’re strict?”

“No, I wouldn’t even say that.” I bite my lip. What happened with That’s A Wrap could easily be Googled, but the repercussions run deep, and it’s not all my story to tell. And to complain about it doesn’t give credence to how serious the harassment and doxing truly was.

Teddy and I are having a good moment, but it doesn’t mean I trust him a hundred percent.

“It’s complicated,” I finally say.

“All right. Well. Your secret is safe with me.” He reaches out a gloved hand, as if to shake mine. “Truce?”

I take it. “Truce.”

He leans forward, his grin wicked. “Good. Because I may end up needing you, Santos.”

I pretend-frown at his playful tone. “Oh?”

“I have to practice. A lot. And unfortunately for me, I might have to skip out on work. Fortunately for you, there might be hours for you to pick up, if you don’t mind. I’d love it if…”

“Yes.” I nod. “I’ll take those hours in a heartbeat.”

“Good.” He sips his hot chocolate, eyes on my face. They crinkle at the corners, and the heaviness I felt coming here to the train depot evaporates. “So…since you’re so good at sparring with me, want to go all the way?”

My voice hitches in my throat. “What??”