A Curvy Carol (A Curvy Girl Christmas #2)

9. Carolynn

9

CAROLYNN

S o far, we’d been successful crossing six items off our list. Not bad for a couple of days. At this rate, we’d be done in no time.

For some reason, that made my chest feel a little weird, but I ignored the feeling and reminded myself the sooner we got this over with, the sooner I could have the peaceful Christmas I wanted.

Whit gave me a wave. “Hey, Christmas Carol.”

I rolled my eyes. “Hey, Whit.” I needed to come up with a nickname for him too, but nothing came to mind at the moment.

“Ready to build a prize-winning snowman?” he asked.

Today was the annual Garland snowman building competition. Just like the star lighting ceremony each year at Cider Center, this was a pretty big deal.

People didn’t just stack three snowballs together, add a carrot, and call it a day. They really went above and beyond and created art from the snow.

I used to get really excited about the competition as a kid, when Mom, Dad, and I would go for the gold each year but never placed despite my best efforts. Now it was just another thing we did together every Christmas that I dreaded because now my parents alternated years, and it was always awkward going back to the parent who didn’t participate and telling them about it.

Something told me this year would be different.

Whit was different.

We looked around. People had all sorts of tools, supplies, and props with them and were taking up residence at the different plots within the park. We didn’t have any specialty equipment. Which meant we’d probably get beat out. I should have asked Dad for some of his tools.

Whit seemed to read my mind. “Don’t let all the fancy stuff fool you,” he said. “I think we can come up with something really good without any of that.”

I looked at him. “What do you think we should do?” All of a sudden, I felt really lame and unprepared, like we should’ve given this some thought ahead of time.

He glanced at my crafting bag. “How about something with a cross-stitch design?” he asked.

“Cross-stitch with snow? What do you mean?”

After explaining his idea to me, we got to work.

Whit used a big plastic shovel he’d brought along to make a giant pile of snow. Meanwhile, my mind sparked with an idea. “I’ll be right back.”

It didn’t take long to make a run to Santa’s Elves and ask for a few bottles of water. I packed them in my bag, then stopped at a grocery store on the way back, looking carefully for what I needed on the shelves until I spotted the food coloring.

I made it back to Whit and set the bag down before helping him roll together the snowman. I checked the clock. We still had plenty of time if we worked quickly.

My hand brushed Whit’s, sending butterflies cascading through my stomach. I glanced at him to see if his reaction was as strong as mine, but his gaze was firmly on our project.

I had to admit that it annoyed me. Not Whit’s touch or his indifference—but the butterflies. It was a silly distraction, feeling that sort of way toward him.

He was the cutest guy I’d ever met, and I knew every girl at school would think so come January. He had no reason to fall for a girl like me. I wasn’t a thin and beautiful cheerleader, which was probably his type. That seemed to be every high school boy’s type. So I wasn’t about to indulge in even the smallest crush on Whit. Especially when I wasn’t sure I wanted a romantic relationship with anyone at all.

After making the snowman, we kept going with our special design, adding a really cute and intricate Santa Claus out of X’s painted into the snow. Whit finished up the beard, perfecting the shape and details. “You’re good at this,” I told him.

He grinned. “I like to draw sometimes, and it’s coming in handy.”

We added the colored water bottles to the design last, placing them carefully all around.

Finally, the timer went off loudly, which meant it was time for the judging. This was the moment of truth.

We finally allowed ourselves to look around at what everybody else had done.

“Look at that,” I murmured. Someone had gone all out and built a snowman family, complete with Garland gear and very realistic presents. “There’s some real talent this year.”

“Yeah,” Whit replied. “But I also think our design is really good.”

I took my phone out on impulse and took a picture of him in front of it. He made a funny pose, which made me laugh. Then he took my phone and took a picture of me too. I thought we were done, but then he said, “Come here.”

My cheeks were flushed, and not from the cold, as I went to stand beside him. I didn’t really like having my picture taken. But then he put his arm around my shoulders, making the butterflies dance all over again.

I didn’t have to force my smile as I looked at the phone and he took a selfie of us together. With it done, I stepped to the side, feeling embarrassed about how strongly I was reacting to just having his arm around me. I looked around, too nervous to meet his gaze.

The judges were already going by each snowman, carefully scoring each entry. It was going to take a while before they got to us, much less finish judging. And without Whit’s arm around me or the exertion of making a snowman, I was shivering.

Whit must’ve noticed because he said, “I could go for some hot cocoa. Want to go? We can get you cider instead.” He winked.

I looked up at him and nodded, trying not to notice how close his face was to mine.

Just like before, I reminded myself that Whit would never go for a girl like me.