“You don’t need to finish that.” Neither of us wanted him to say it out loud—the red and white icing had run, so they looked like flesh-colored, slightly bent, er, rods.

“I didn’t think you were into Christmas stuff?”

“Being attacked by a singing dog, I can take or leave, but cookies, I can handle”

“Anything else?”

Nick looked around. “I mean, all this isn’t really my thing…” He shrugged, almost apologetically. “Guess my only plan would be to not have a plan.”

Okay, this guy was clearly weird, so changing the topic quickly, we walked around the stalls. I wouldn’t have said I was that overexcited about things (a really good snow mound! A dog wearing a brussels sprout costume!), but compared to Nick, I was a total Christmas freak. We even looked opposite. He was wearing a checked shirt open over a white T-shirt, and sort of retro, faded-blue jeans, with a black jacket pulled over it. I, however, looked like a sweaty, walking ball of wool. Just like Elle, he was painfully good looking—like in science when you can’t look directly at burning magnesium, or it would burn your eyeballs…but with cheekbones, and dimples, and these amazing long eyelashes.

Still, we’d been thrown together by his sister, so we talked and tried to find common ground. When we walked back past the stage, and the band was covering “Last Christmas,” we found it—music. I was as obsessed with American bands as he was British ones, and we agreed to swap playlists.

“So, are you missing Elle?” I’d stopped to take another photo.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “It’s been less than two days.”

“My friends love her, by the way.”

This time he did one of his semi smiles. “Everyone loves my sister.” But it quickly faded, like he’d remembered something. He realized I had noticed and quickly turned the attention back to me. “So are you missing your ‘maaates’?”

“’Course. Like massively. They’re the actual best. But Christmas at home sort of got canceled, and this was my plan to salvage it. So here I am.” I pointed at a giant, lit-up, red-and-green plastic dinosaur. “A T. rex in a Santa hat.” I closed my eyes and breathed out. “I. Am. Blessed.”

“Really glad that even after pointing out the last three hundred displays, you’re still not bored.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“And I never will be. So buckle up. Same with people genuinely saying ‘happy holidays.’ And them playing ‘White Christmas.’” I looked at the band.

Nick shook his head. “It’s the third time they’ve done it since I got here.”