Free Getting Kole for Christmas by Kimberly Krey Page A

much anything I can shove my feet into. I see my own boots first, placed perfectly just beside the door. Did Melanie do that? Does she know what’s happening? Is this really what I think it is?
    I pull the boots on as quickly as I can and snatch my coat out of the closet beside me. The door creaks as I push it open. May as well go through the front door where my journey began.
    I walk along the porch, around the carport, and onto the snowy ground leading to the backyard. I was right about the floodlights. They are bright and blazing and making me squint as the yard comes into view. Bright. White. And empty. I don’t see my family. I don’t see Kole. But I do see something in the snow: Letters. Huge ones carefully stomped into the snowy surface.
    P.L.E.
    A.S.E
    “Please…”
    I continue to identify the letters, saying each word as it becomes clear. “Go. To. The. Dance. With. Me.”
    I grin so wide I can barely feel my face. I step further into the yard, looking for some sort of hint as to what I should do next. And then I see it. A cluster of pinecones lined up in a row with a triangle at the tip. An arrow.
    “Okay,” I say, walking in the direction it shows. As I make my way toward the far edge of the yard, the part leading to the stretch of mountain land beyond, I hear whispers and giggles. A few steps more and I see Eli, jumping up and down. He waves at me.
    I wave back, feeling my face flood with warmth as more people come into view. Cassie, who’s covering her mouth and nose with her scarf. Meg. Mike. Chase. Melanie.
    My smile grows as I see Tiff, Trina, and my parents too, who also throw me a wave. I return it with a grin, continuing to scan over the crowd.
    Once I realize Kole is nowhere in sight, they all start to point toward the giant pine tree behind me. I take a few steps before I see him.
    Kole.
    He’s lit by the bright, golden bulbs. His cheeks are rosy and red and his deep brown eyes are on me. He remains silent while holding up a sign for me to read. The surface covered with bold black print.
     
    Please say yes. 
     
    My heart is a happy, fluttering mass. I feel like it could somehow lift Kole and me off the ground and carry us up into the clouds.
    Before I can form the single word, Kole spins the sign around and stretches an arm toward me. He hands me a Sharpie and supports the sign with his inner arms.
    Six blank squares line one side of the sign. Next to each square is a different answer. The first three make me laugh:
     
       No thanks
      As if
       Not in your wildest dreams
     
    I twist the lid off the Sharpie as I read the last three:
     
       Why not?
        I’d love to
       It would make my wildest dreams come true
     
    I move toward him with the marker as the crowd – once at the other side of the yard – gathers closer. Whispering. Oohing. Ahhing.
    I look at him, holding his gaze as his eyes sparkle and gleam and tempt me more than they ever have. I bring the marker to the center of the poster and put a giant checkmark in the fourth box down, next to why not?
    Our small crowd cheers. Kole’s lip twitches.
    I move my hand down and make a check in the next box. I’d love to.
    This time they cheer even louder. I glance over at their smiling faces, touched to see my dad toss a triumphant fist in the air. I bring my attention back to Kole. His eyes drop to the sign, seeming to point out that last option on the board.
    I smile. Bite my lip. And bring the marker back to the sign, checking that final, oh-so-true declaration. It would make my wildest dreams come true.

 
    “Kylie,” my sisters holler from the top of the stairs. “He’s here.”
    I take a deep breath while walking toward my mirror in my new heels. I’ve had exactly five days to get used to them and I’m not doing half bad.
    I smooth a hand over my gown as I check my reflection, telling myself that the moment is real. Kole is about to see me in this dress. Nervous excitement spills over me at the thought.
    I march