Page 86 of Crease Collision

I’d laughed so hard Carson looked over and raised his eyebrows.

OSKAR: You never complain when we’re together.

KAI: Because I like it when your kisses taste like chocolate.

Tomorrow, we can kiss for real.

OSKAR: I’ll eat a chocolate bar on the way to see you tomorrow.

KAI: And you’ll get an extra reward. Go finish dinner.

OSKAR: Okay. Go to bed.

Looking back out at the city, I wonder if Kai is still awake. I type a message.

OSKAR: Had fun walking around Ottawa today. It’s nicer than I expected. We will have to come here together sometime. Natti natti, hjärtat.

There it is, our first heart emoji. I hope it doesn’t scare him, but why should it when he already knows how I feel about him?

At least I think he does.

When he doesn’t text back, I figure he’s already sleeping.

Sweet dreams, baby.

I put the phone down and run my finger along the folded sweater on the bedside table. I cannot wait to see how good he looks in it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

KAI

A Few Weeks Later

Union Square smells like cinnamon, roasting chestnuts, and cold air sharp enough to sting my nose. Even on a weekday, the holiday market is packed shoulder-to-shoulder with people carrying shopping bags and paper cups of cider. Tinny Christmas music drifts from somewhere behind the booths.

Normally, ten minutes of this would have me ready to walk into traffic. But Oskar keeps brushing his shoulder against mine as we weave through the crowd, and my brain hasn’t exploded yet.

I’m here to find a gift for Mom, who is absolutely the world’s hardest person to buy for. She already has everything, and she gets upset anytime I spend more than ten dollars on her. Oskar needs to buy gifts too, so this is how we’re spending the first free day we’ve had in common since Thanksgiving.

“There we go.” I steer him toward a booth selling handmade candles. “Mom likes vanilla, but not if it’s too sweet or fake. She likes lavender too, but not the kind that smells soapy.”

He nods sagely. “Understood.”

I smell candles while the older woman running the booth answers my questions about wax blends and fragrance oils. Oskar stands beside me, listening and hiding an occasional smile behind a gloved hand. At least he thinks he’s hiding them.

After a while, I narrow it down to two choices: Madagascar vanilla bean and lavender-sage.

“Vanilla,” Oskar says immediately.

I grimace. “I like the lavender-sage.”

“Of course,” he says. “They both sound like flavors for holiday puddings.”

I stare at both candles while my thoughts skate in frantic circles. Vanilla would be safer, but maybe too safe. Lavender-sage might be more personal, except what if she doesn’t like sage?

“Fuck.” I nudge Oskar’s arm. “What should I do?”

Without hesitation, he picks up both candles and hands them to the clerk.