“Maybe a little bit of holiday cheer isn’t so bad,” I admit. The sky is black, with purple wispy clouds drifting like little ships sailing to the moon. “But I’ll warn you, I might be a lost cause.”

Hall’s reflection in the ice is glowing. Actually glowing—a soft, blurry halo clinging to his edges, visible only from specific angles.

“What makes you think that?” he asks.

I stare at his radiant profile. I don’t register the temperature anymore, or if music is playing, or if the rink is still growing. Maybe that was only an illusion. Maybe we’ve been circling the same small area over and over. I’m too riveted to question why he’s cleared the snowfall away from my face as he looks down at me with star-bright eyes.

“The sort of person you are . . . all sweet and warm and fuzzy, is fiction to me. I’ll never be able to let my guard down enough to be like that. Even with my mom, who’s the nicest, most understanding human I’ve ever known, I’m scared to open up, because what if the worst she’s seen so far isn’t my worst, which will be her limit. I don’t want her to discover her limit with me.”

“I can tell you have difficulty being yourself in front of others.”

“It’s a habit I can’t shake. People are always using me to get more famous, or they want to schmooze Grandma. I dated this one guy for a few months, thinking he was so wonderful, until he revealed that he’d written a screenplay and wanted me to show it to Grandma. I told him I would, and it was like a flipped switch—all he could talk about from that point onward was whether I’d shown her the screenplay, when I was planning to do it, if I’d please hurry up. This is why I don’t date anymore, why it’s hard to maintain friendships. These friendships start off fun and light, with them treating me to margaritas, which evolves into I need twelve hundred dollars for my cat’s medicine, I’ll pay you back. Hey, bestie, please loan me five grand? I’m only asking you because I know you’re such a good friend, and nobody else will help. At some point, they all reveal their true selves. Then I feel like a fool for believing they liked me for me. It even affects my relationships with people I know I should be able to trust, like my parents.”

“I’m only one person,” he says softly, “but Bettie, I’m not using you for anything.”

I scan his face, but I’m not searching for proof that he’s lying; he’s so right, so inarguably right, that it brooks no challenge.

I sigh. “Sorry to bring the mood down. I suppose I’ve just been burned a lot. It’s made me jaded.”

“I’ve been burned, too,” he volunteers, which successfully captures my undivided attention.

“What? By who?”

He nods. “By catching a falling star.”

A laugh ruptures from my chest. “You what?”