“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Be warned, I haven’t skied since I was a kid, and I can’t guarantee I won’t topple over people.” I pointed a finger his way. He pushed my finger down in my lap, sparks lighting up my palm at his touch.

“How about you worry about getting there, and I’ll worry about everything else?” I almost grinned at his excitement.

“So, you really want to do this?” The rhetorical question slipped from my mouth. Finn clearly already had our fake dating plans stapled in an itinerary labeled “Raise Olive’s Chronic Stress.”

“Oh yeah, Grinchy. Hop aboard the Finland Train. Whoo whoo.” He mimed pulling a train whistle, and I rolled my eyes.

“I'm still going to be staying up all night thinking of an excuse for us to ‘break up.’”

“And I’ll sleep like a baby knowing tomorrow I’m showing my fake future in-laws how to become Olympic skiers.” I couldn’t hold in the embarrassing snort that left my mouth.

“I should get inside before my mom accuses me of making babies in her driveway.” He chuckled and I reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” he said, stopping me. “Let me see your phone.”

I looked down to the device in my hand and eyed him skeptically. “Why?”

“So I can text you how to find me. Come on, I gotta make sure my girl’s got my number.”

“Still not your girl,” I reminded him as I shoved my phone in his hand.

He didn’t argue this time, too busy typing away. Soon I heard his phone buzz and assumed he sent himself my number. I retrieved my phone and opened the door of the car.

“Goodnight, Li’l Grinch.” I couldn’t help but grin at my newest nickname from him; it was nicer than usual ‘babe’ or ‘doll.’

“Goodnight, Finnegan.” That got a chuckle out of him.

When I got down the driveway, I noticed Sarah’s car was gone and breathed out a sigh of relief. That was one more thing I could put off. I opened the front door and slipped my heels off, sighing at the oddly pleasurable ache of being back on flat feet.

I didn’t start wearing heels until the last few years. My style always tended more toward comfort over fashion. But as the rest of me changed, so did my priorities. No one was in the living room, so I planned on going right to bed. As I turned the corner toward my room, I found a figure standing there.

“Hey. I’m glad I caught you.” Sarah stood against my door frame, sheepish as she rubbed her palms together. If any of us had the right to be uncomfortable right now, it was me.

“Hey. Can I help you?” My tone was insensitive, but I didn't have it in me to pretend anymore.