answer is no, he’s just better than me at checkers. Stormy serves us piña coladas that she mixes in her
blender with “just a splash of rum to warm us up,” and she microwaves frozen spanakopita that
neither of us touches. Bing Crosby is playing on her stereo. By nine thirty Stormy is yawning and
saying she’ll need her beauty sleep soon. John and I exchange a look—it’s still so early, and I don’t
know the last time I went to bed before midnight.
Stormy insists I stay with her and John stay with Mr. Morales in his spare bedroom. I can tell John
isn’t crazy about this idea, because he asks, “Can’t I just sleep on your floor?”
I’m surprised when Stormy shakes her head. “I hardly think Lara Jean’s father would appreciate
that!”
“I really don’t think my dad would mind, Stormy,” I say. “I could call him if you want.”
But the answer is a firm and resounding no: John must bunk with Mr. Morales. For a lady who’s
always telling me to be wild and have adventures and bring the condom, she’s far more old-fashioned
than I thought.
Stormy hands John a face towel and a pair of foam earplugs. “Mr. Morales snores,” she tells him
as she kisses him good night.
John raises an eyebrow at her. “How do you know?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know!” She shimmies off into the kitchen like the grand dame she truly is.
In a low voice John says to me, “You know what? I really, really wouldn’t.”
I bite the cushiony part of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“Keep your phone on vibrate,” John says before he goes out the door. “I’ll text you.”
I hear the sound of Stormy snoring and the whispery sound of icy snowflakes hitting the windowsill. I
keep getting twisted up in Stormy’s sleeping bag, twisted and hot and wishing Stormy didn’t have the
heat turned up so high. Old people are always complaining about how cold it is at Belleview, how
the heat is “piss-poor,” as Danny in the Azalea building says. Feels plenty hot to me. Stormy’s peach
high-neck satin nightgown she insisted I wear isn’t helping matters. I’m lying on my side, playing
Candy Crush on my phone, wondering when John will hurry up and text me.
Wanna play in the snow?I text back right away:
YES! It’s really hot in here.
Meet me in the hallway in two min?
K.I stand up so fast in my sleeping bag I nearly trip. I use my phone to find my coat, my boots. Stormy
is snoring away. I can’t find my scarf, but I don’t want to keep John waiting, so I run out without it.
He’s already in the hallway waiting for me. His hair is sticking up in the back, and on that basis
alone I think I could fall in love with him if I let myself. When he sees me, he holds his arms out and
sings, “Do you want to build a snowman?” and I burst out laughing so hard John says, “Shh, you’re
going to wake up the residents!” which only makes me laugh harder. “It’s only ten thirty!”
We run down the long carpeted hallway, both of us laughing as quietly as we can. But the more you