<b>Chapter </b>256
He reached out and lightly tapped Alessia on the head with the gift box. Alessia shot him an annoyed re.
“Happy New Year, you little rascal.”
It was a small box, still a little warm from his hand.
“Happy New Year,” Alessia replied, epting the gift and fighting the smile tugging at her lips.
“Oh, right–this is for you. You’re a year older now, so you can’t be so reckless anymore.” She patted her pockets, only then remembering her own gift was in her purse–which she’d left in the car.
“Here you go.” At some point, Cole had parked the car and walked over. He handed her the purse.
Alessia took it, and York’s anticipation was finally rewarded. York, who had been sulking over Ivan’s showing off, was now eager to get back and brag to Ivan
himself.
Alessia tucked Max’s gift into her bag as well.
Max and Cole sized each other up. Cole gave a brief nod; Max just snorted and looked away.
“Are youing up?” This time, it was Alessia who made the offer.
“Let’s go,” <i>Max </i>said, ruffling her hair.
To outsiders, the way the two interacted lookedically awkward.
York didn’t make a fuss. He waved to Alessia, then climbed into the car after Max.
“Look, presents!” As soon as the two–and their dog–left, Alessia waved her gift in front of Cole with a grin.
“Having a good time?<i>” </i>Cole put her hat on her, then took her hand and breathed warmth over her cold fingers.
“It’s nothing,” Alessia tried to y it cool, but the smile she couldn’t suppress gave her away.
Cole didn’t call her gut on it. Hand in hand, they headed upstairs.
Fireworks blossomed across the night sky, and the two of them paused, perfectly in
<b><i>1/3 </i></b>
12:40
sync.
When they were kids, they used to set off fireworks in the backyard themselves. Maybe growing up meant the fireworks were always someone else’s now.
“Let’s celebrate next New Year together too,” Alessia said softly.
“Yeah,” Cole agreed.
Their fingers intertwined. They never spoke of forever, but whenever they talked about the future, the other’s presence was always there.
Back in her room, Alessia took a box from the cupboard.
It wasn’t very big–just a in old cookie tin that had almost been tossed out at the Tate family house. Butler Dawson had brought it over, saying the family had found it during a big spring cleaning.
The tin was nothing special, and its contents weren’t valuable–just a handful of things she’d picked up when she was still living in that alleyway. But seeing it again filled her with nostalgia.
She opened the box. Inside were all sorts of mismatched photos, but mostly, there were small gift boxes, each with a single word written on it: Max.
It was Max’s handwriting.
As if determined to make his presence known, he’d always scrawled his name on every gift he gave Alessia–ever since she could remember, it had never changed.
Alessia unwrapped this year’s present. Inside was a bank card and a crisp hundred–dor bill.
The amount on the card grew every year, but the hundred–dor bill was always there, unchanged.
Just like every year, Alessia took out a matching envelope from her coin purse–alsobeled “Max“-ced the old bill back in the tin, then slipped the new card into her purse.
When she picked up the lid, a photo stuck underneath fluttered down.
“Wow, how many years ago was this?” Alessia picked it up and nced at it, trying in vain to suppress her smile.
In the photo, a boy stood awkwardly with his hand on a girl’s shoulder, while the girl clung to his jacket. Both were standing side by side, looking a bit stiff in front of the camera for the first time.
<b>2/3 </b>
12:40
A neighbor’s daughter, who’d gotten into a great college, had received a camera as a gift from her parents. She’d always looked after the two of them, and <i>not </i>only took their very first photo together but even printed it out and gave each of them a copy.
Old memories washed over her. Alessia stared at the photo for a long while before finally closing the lid on the box.