Free Sway by Amy Matayo Page B

and ninety-nine cents. A lot more. Millions, even.”
    He flicks the tag to the floor, and my traitorous heart seems to fall in search of it. But first it flips once, bangs into my pulse, jumps into my throat, then collapses somewhere around my feet. That was the nicest thing anyone has said to me in years. I catch his eye, and neither one of us looks away.
    “See something you want?” His voice sounds thick. Tense. He clears his throat and nods to my hand. “For me, I mean. Is that the one you like?”
    At first I’m unsure what he’s referring to, and then I look down. I’m holding a gaudy pink Christmas stocking shaped like a slipper, complete with sparkles, glitter, and everything he just finished lecturing me against. I shrug, deciding right then to just go for it. “Yes. This is it. And don’t even think about putting it back. After everything I’ve just gone through, it would totally hurt my feelings.”
    To my surprise, he reaches for it. “A stocking fit for a princess. I wouldn’t dream of putting it back.” He tucks it under his arm and turns to walk away, leaving me staring after him like the infatuated servant girl I apparently am. Give me a mop and bucket, and I’d probably drop to the floor and start singing about my prince arriving while blue birds gather at my feet and field mice stitch me a dress.
    “You coming, Princess?”
    I find myself nodding, following after him. Of course I am.
    *
    Like the famous saying goes, the third time is the charm. He bought me a present. An intervention present. I’ve never had a Christmas gift before, and it doesn’t even matter that it’s a bag of sour Gummy Worms. I suck the sugar off my fourth one and dig out one for Caleb.
    “Want one?”
    “I can’t believe of all the things in that store, this is what you picked out for your gift,” he says. “These barely even qualify as a stocking stuffer, let alone a first-time intervention gift.” He makes a face, but reaches for the worm anyway and pops it in his mouth. The Christmas tree is stuffed in the back of his truck and we’re almost back to my apartment. I have no idea what happens when we get there, but I’m sure of one thing. I don’t want this day to end.
    “Don’t criticize my taste in gifts. I never got to eat these as a kid, and when I saw your wallet open and ready, well… My only regret is that I didn’t make you buy me two bags.” I lick my fingers, more than aware that if my mother could see me now, she’d probably faint. Maybe that adds to the appeal of the worms, maybe not. I love my mother, but sometimes she’s too focused on the sour to enjoy the sweet.
    These worms are definitely sweet.
    At least until we pull into the parking space in front of my apartment, and then everything turns bitter. Lucy is at the front door, struggling to make her key turn in the lock. She pulls it out and whacks it a few times, then promptly drops it into a planter filled with last summer’s now-dead fern. Watching her drop to her knees is more entertaining that I should admit. Seeing dirt fly as she digs through the planter makes me want to grab popcorn and kick back in my seat. If I wasn’t harboring any leftover resentment toward her for leaving me at the bar with a psychopath, I might jump out to help. As it is, I let her fumble, consoled by the knowledge that she likely has the world’s worst hangover wrapped in a treacherous headache.
    “Looks like your roommate made it home,” Caleb says, with a hint of amusement in his voice. I turn to look at him, glad to see that he’s finding the situation as entertaining as I am.
    “Looks like it.”
    “Think we should get out to help her?” Lucy stands and jabs the key into the lock again. Her hair looks like a tangled mass of cobwebs, she’s wearing one shoe, and her sweater is on backwards. I wonder if she even knows how awful she looks.
    “Probably. But I’m not going to,” I say.
    “Good answer. Because I’m not going to either.” He