I catch his sleeve before he can wander off. “No way. We’re totally getting one of the tall ones.”

“Nah. You were right. They’re too tall.”

“Nope, they’re just right. Besides, Uncle Ethan will make it work, and he’ll love every second doing so. And then we can get me this bad boy,” I point at an equally tall and fluffy tree leaning beside the one Ayden picked out, “so we can be twins.” I waggle my eyebrows at him. “And we both know how much you love being just like me.”

“Yep, it’s my secret wish,” he finally, finally jokes back. “In fact, every night when I go to sleep, I look out my window, find a shooting star, and beg it to please let me wake up and be exactly like Lyric.”

“Ha, ha.” I aim a finger at him and force a falsetto laugh. “I knew it.”

“You are such a weirdo.” He’s totally smiling a big, ol’ grin from ear to ear.

“Yeah, but a weirdo that you’re so in love with.” As soon as I say it, I instantly want to retract it.

Ayden massages the back of his neck tensely, looking everywhere except at me.

Can you say awkward?

It used to not be this complicated between us, but that was before the kissing and touching in my car. Since then, stuff between us has gotten slightly uncomfortable if certain subjects come up, like love.

I don’t feel bad about it at all, though. Ayden doesn’t even tell the Gregorys he loves them. I honestly don’t think he can say that word and mean it, not yet anyway. There are several things he can’t do, like allow anyone to touch him more intimately than holding a hand or a hug. While we have kissed twice, our lip-locking has come to a grinding halt ever since his brother’s death. He’s not cold toward me—he cuddles and holds my hand more than he used to. I think his brother’s mysterious death has messed with his mind, though, because that dark place he forgot about for over three years is trying to reenter his life.

“Okay, this weirdo right here is getting hungry.” I rub my tummy. “So, how about we load up these lovely trees and stop to get a burger on the way home before I starve to death?”

“Fine, but only if you let me pay this time.” He relaxes and so do I. “You always pay.”

I link arms with him. “Okay, I’ll let you pretend to be the man for tonight.” When his lips tug upward, I press on, “Man, I’m so funny. What would you do without me?”

He stares at me, dead serious. “I honestly have no idea.” With a sigh, he wiggles his arm from mine and gently drapes it over my shoulder. A simple gesture but out of the ordinary for him. “Come on. Let’s go pay for the trees and get you your burger so we can get back. Otherwise, we’ll be late for band practice.”

We pay for the trees and load them in the back of my Uncle Ethan’s truck, who really isn’t my uncle, not by blood anyway. Uncle Ethan and Aunt Lila are just close to my parents, best friends to be exact. I’ve known them since I was born and sometimes call them aunt and uncle.

Once we hop into the cab and pull out onto the road, Ayden turns on the radio, flipping on some Brand New. I’ve learned over the last year of our friendship that his music choices portray how he feels. Tonight, he’s stuck in his own head. I’d ask him what he’s thinking about, but I know him well enough to understand he more than likely won’t tell me.

The Christmas tree shop is about a ten-minute drive from our neighborhood, so after we pick up some takeout, we still arrive home with a decent amount of time to spare before we have to leave for band practice.

The moon is a glowing orb and the stars sprinkle like pixie dust across the sky. A scenic night to be decorating the house, which is exactly what Uncle Ethan is doing when we pull up.

“What’s with the inflatable Santa?” Ayden nods at Ethan who’s inflating a massive Santa near the border of where our properties meet. “Last year, he put it that close to your house, too.”

“It’s because my dad’s afraid of them.” I unbuckle my seatbelt. “I guess he got stuck under one during a teenage prank gone wrong. Every year, Uncle Ethan puts it up to torture him. They’re so crazy and weird, maybe weirder than me.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice, I guess. To have Christmas traditions like that, something you guys have done for years.” He silences the engine and unfastens his seatbelt.

Suddenly, his deal with the big tree makes sense. He wants to keep tradition by getting a large one like the Gregorys did last year during his first Christmas with the family. He was so quiet back then, and I was awkward, pushing him out of his comfort zone. I wanted so much for him to be my friend. This year, I want him to be more than that. But with what he’s going through, I can’t expect anything more than friendship.

“You know, my mom is having one of her holiday art shows like she did last year on New Year’s Eve,” I tell Ayden as I open the door to get out. “We could go again, but this time we can try sneaking off with a few glasses of eggnog. Get buzzed. Add to the tradition.”

“I thought you were going to go to that party with Sage?” Ayden’s brow arches as he glances at me. “That one Maggie invited you guys to.”

Sage is the drummer of our band. With his blue-dyed hair, multiple piercings, and tattoos, he fits the part of what most people think a drummer should look like. After two months of jamming with him, I’m still deciding if he’s a walking cliché or just an expressive person.