Lauren Fox had the most boring job at the coolest place. Literally, the coolestâit said it on the website and everything. If you felt the sudden urge to build a snowman or ice skate in Central Florida, Cold World was the place to do it. Lauren was Cold World's bookkeeper, meaning that she was mostly holed up in her office, which was kept just as frigid as the rest of the place, reconciling bank records and paying vendor invoices and making sure the Zamboni didn't get repossessed. She loved her job, though. There was something so satisfying about entering numbers into spreadsheets, sorting the data into different permutations, and keeping her filing cabinet like a finely manicured garden of color-coded folders. And there was something just a little magic about stepping into a blast of winter every Monday through Friday, no matter how humid and gross the Florida air was outside. Like today, the first day of December, clocking in at a muggy eighty-three degrees. Lauren had dressed in her usual uniform of skirt, tights, button-up, and cardigan, holding her arms slightly away from her body in hopes of staving off the sweat until she could reach the relief of a central air-conditioning system that set Cold World back four figures a month in the dead of summer. It hit her in a wave as she walked through the front door, the air frigid with a slight whiff of cinnamon. They'd been decorating for Christmas since before Thanksgiving, because it was obviously their biggest holiday. The front ticket counter was draped with garlands, and giant ornaments hung from the ceiling. Life-sized reindeer statues, spray-painted with glittery silver and gold, stood watch in one corner, and the finishing touches had almost been put on the twelve-foot tree they put out in front of the gift shop every year. The converted warehouse building opened up to the right of the ticket counter, holding the Snow Globe, an enclosed area kept even colder with real, actual snow on the ground. (It was a little icier than people expected, and not the best for snow angels, but hey, it felt miraculous when you could drive an hour away and be at the beach.) Then there was the small ice skating rink, and Wonderland Walk, a lane flanked by stands selling hot chocolate, warm cookies, and various artisanal goods. Lauren didn't have much reason to go right. The administrative space was to the leftâthe Chalet, as they called it for the decorative faux ski-cottage front that hid the entrance to the offices, the break room, and the storage space. That was where she spent most of her day, and thank god, because it was at least moderately warmer than the rest of Cold World. It could never get too warm, though, or it threw the whole balance of the building off, hence Lauren's ubiquitous cardigan. Even thinking about it made Lauren superstitious that the unit would fail, and as she entered the break room she kissed her fingers and pointed at the ceiling, a tribute to the air-conditioning gods. "You find Jesus last night?" Lauren startled in the act of reaching for coffee, dropping the K-cup on the floor. Normally, she had a couple hours to herself before most of her coworkers showed up to begin their shifts. But from the low, sardonic voice behind her, at least one person had decided to make an early morning of it. "If Jesus is certified for commercial HVAC work," she said, bending to pick up the small container filled with lifesaving coffee grounds. "Then yes." She liked the people she worked with. She genuinely did. Except . . . Asa Williamson just got under her skin for some reason. Like now, he was leaning casually against the supply closet door, his eyes crinkle-smiling at her over his coffee mug, and she knew, she just knew that he was laughing at her. He was tall and lean, lanky in a way that should make him seem awkward. But instead he always seemed easy, effortless, and comfortable in his own skin. His arms were covered in tattoos, which she couldn't help but notice because he wore short-sleeved shirts even when everyone else on the floor layered long sleeves under their baby blue Cold World polos. He was always doing something different with his hairâit had been long when she'd started two years before, down to his shoulders, and now it was short and dyed a bright aqua blue. He'd been there ten years, longer than anyone else who wasn't the owner, Dolores, or her son Daniel. Maybe that was why he always felt like the Cool Kid around the place, or maybe it was because he was genuinely friendly with everyone. He was even housemates with Kiki, one of Lauren's closest friends at Cold World. Not that Lauren had ever gone to their place, which they shared with another couple of people she'd only heard about. It was important to have boundaries at work, she thought. Of course, that was probably one reason why Lauren had never been one of the Cool Kids. Not back in school, not anywhere she'd worked, and definitely not here. She resented that about Asa, just like she resented that little pinch he got at the corner of his mouth, like he was always thinking about some inside joke. He didn't take anything seriously, and that was something Lauren couldn't stand. She took everything seriously. "Why are you here?" she asked now, the question coming out more churlish than she'd intended as she slammed the top of the Keurig over the K-cup. "The meeting?" he said. His eyebrows shot up at her confused frown. "The first of December. Holiday season. The planning meeting. Did you forget?" She had actually forgotten. Which was totally unlike her. Lauren lived her life with lists and systems and plans. Three months ago, she'd Googled "best skincare routine" and clicked through the results until she found one that was numbered and affordable and easy to follow, and now she did it every morning and night. She updated her Goodreads page religiously, not to leave reviews but just to ensure that she had some kind of record of every book she'd ever read. It annoyed her to get the biannual postcards from the dentist's office about her next cleaning, because she'd already put a reminder on her Outlook calendar at work to follow up. "Shit," Asa said, squinting at her. "Is there a problem with your programming? I knew we'd see the effects of Y2K eventually." "I didn't forget," Lauren muttered, even though by now it was obvious she had. She'd already hit the button to brew a cup of coffee, but it wasn't lighting up, so she hit it again. She could hear the churn of the machine as it started to heat the water, but still no coffee. If she was actually a robot like Asa loved to tease her about being, shouldn't she have more proficiency with the stupid thing? "And you saw all the extra cars in the parking lot and thought, what?" he continued, ignoring her denial. "Maybe it's overflow from the Waffle House?" She hadn't even noticed the extra cars. She'd been on autopilot, lost in her own thoughts. Scarily, she only had vague impressions of the twenty minutes it took her to get from her apartment to Cold World. She had a volunteer engagement after work, and even though she'd been preparing for it for months, planning for it, now that it was here it still tied her stomach in knots. "I haveâ" A lot on my mind, she almost finished, but she didn't have that kind of relationship with anyone at work. And if she was going to start confiding in someone, it certainly wouldn't be Asa Williamson. She stabbed the Keurig button again with her finger, mentally urging the machine to start already so she could extricate herself from the awkwardness of this moment. He set down his own mug on the counter, reaching over her to fiddle with the machine. Not for the first time, Lauren couldn't help but notice that he smelled good. Like, really good. It was one of life's true mysteries, because she felt like she'd know his scent anywhere, but she couldn't quite place what it was. Some mixture of cedar and citrus, not overpowering, never burning her nose like some colognes did. But always present whenever he was nearby, and sometimes she'd catch the tail end of it when she entered a room he'd just been in. She lived in fear that one day he'd catch her inhaling a big whiff whenever he was close, and she'd have to quit her job and move to North Dakota. "There," he said as the Keurig whirred to life, dispensing a steady stream of coffee into her mug. As far as she could tell, all he'd done was lift the top and place it back down again. Of course he'd make it look easy. "Thanks," she said grudgingly. He settled back with his coffee. "No problem." This might be the longest Lauren had ever spent one-on-one with Asa. They hadn't exactly hit it off right away, despite his ability to charm his way into friendship with everyone else. Lauren wasn't even sure of his technical job titleâhe seemed to do a little bit of everything. She'd seen him working the gift shop with Kiki, serving hot chocolate wearing an apron the same color as his hair, even skating circuits around the rink, making sure everyone was traveling in the right direction and no newer skaters needed help. And it was Florida, so they often needed help. She'd started at Cold World only days before the staff holiday party two years ago, which was an awkward time to be the new person. She'd still been reeling from her job interview. It had been pretty standard until Dolores mentioned the need to get Cold World's books more organized. Somehow, that had set Lauren off into an impassioned speech that, embarrassingly, had brought actual tears to her eyes. When she'd finally come up for air, she thought she'd blown it. She must have seemed unhinged. Instead, to her surprise, Dolores had told her on the spot that the job was hers if she wanted it. Since she hadn't been there long enough to know anyone at the holiday party, she'd spent most of it taking note of ways to cut costs at the next shindig. It was part of what Dolores had hired her to do, after all. Lauren thought they could dial back the sandwich platters since there were tons of leftovers, she figured a closed bar would be more money-saving and probably more responsible, and if there was already a Secret Santa she saw no reason for Dolores to separately give gift cards to each employee. "Those come out of my own pocket, dear," Dolores had said when she brought it up, patting her hand kindly. But one of Lauren's bestâor worst, as in this caseâqualities was her tenacity. For some reason, she had a hard time letting it go. She'd turned to the person next to her, who was piling his plate high with two each of the five different types of cookies. She hadn't learned his name, and normally someone with that many tattoos would've intimidated her, but there was something about his eyes that had seemed kind. "It makes no sense," she said. "If you think about it, if everyone buys a twenty-dollar Secret Santa gift, and then they get a twenty-dollar gift card, doesn't it all come out a wash? If the gift cards are going to mean something, why not cancel Secret Santa?" "Bold move," he said. "Running on a platform of cancel Secret Santa. How long have you worked here again?" She'd felt her face heat. "Three days." He'd pointed a cookie at her. "Love your initiative, though," he said. "Keep at it and by March we can get all the toilet paper down to one ply." He held the cookie in his mouth and walked away, still facing her, one hand holding his plate and the other holding up crossed fingers as though he were actually hopeful. The most infuriating thing was that his tone hadn't even sounded sarcastic. It wasn't until a full minute after he'd walked away that it hit Lauren that there'd been a spark in his eyes as he'd left, and it hadn't been kindness. And a week later, she'd received her generous hundred-dollar gift card from Dolores along with everyone else, and a token coffee mug from Kiki as a belated Secret Santa present. "This is a regift because my aunt gets me a new one every year," Kiki had said. "So don't feel bad that you didn't get anything for anyone." "The holidays are kinda . . . intense around here, huh?" Kiki shrugged. "Dolores thinks that we work so hard to make all our guests' holidays special, so we deserve something special, too. She's a little eccentric, but she's a sweet boss. You'll get used to it." "Ah." Lauren ran one finger along the rim of the mug. It was white, printed with a rainbow and flowers and an aspirational quote that encouraged her to BLOOM WHERE YOU ARE PLANTED! "It's nice," she said hesitantly. "That she arranges the Secret Santa thing and goes out of her way to get everyone in on it." "Oh, that's all Asa," Kiki had said. At Lauren's questioning expression, she gestured to her shoulders, as if telling a stylist where to cut her own bleached strands. "Long hair? Tall? Tattoos? When it comes to Christmas, he doesn't play. Secret Santa was totally his idea." The guy she'd vented to at the party. Great. From that moment on, Lauren had always felt on the wrong foot with Asa, especially during the holiday season. Especially during the holiday parties. She didn't even want to think about what had happened at last year's. Now, he was still watching her as she took her first sip of coffee from that same BLOOM WHERE YOU ARE PLANTED! mug. There was a slight aftertaste to it that made her grimace, and she could've sworn she saw that corner of his mouth twitch. She'd been wondering why he seemed intent on hanging around, why he was paying her such close attention. As the aftertaste crystallized on her tongueâdefinitely something with vanillaâthe pieces fell into place. "You made your coffee before mine, didn't you." He held up his mug in a cheers. "Not just a prop," he said. She took another tentative sip, her mouth turning down with the full impact of the flavor. "French vanilla." He'd done it on purpose. She didn't know how she knew, but she didâthe flavor from the K-cup before always bled into the next one, and Lauren couldn't stand flavored coffee. This whole time he'd been helping her with the machine, he'd really just been setting her up. She dumped the coffee down the drain, rinsing out her mug before grabbing another K-cup to try again. "Whoa," Asa said, his eyebrows raised. "You better not let our accounts person see that kind of waste. She'll take the coffee machine away from us." Lauren was about to say something immature and not even face-savingly clever, but luckily Kiki walked in at that moment and rescued her from herself. "Hey," she said, looking from one to the other. "Dolores was asking about you guys. The meeting is starting in five minutes." Lauren could vaguely make out noises in the front lobby now, the shuffling and footsteps that indicated more people were arriving. She'd been so wrapped up in this break room melodrama over the coffeemaker that she hadn't even noticed. Between that and her complete blanking on the meeting in the first place, what was wrong with her? Maybe it was more than just her worrying about her new volunteer role. Maybe it was the grad school application she'd sent off to get her master's degree in accounting, which she'd told herself she wasn't sweating. Maybe it was just the holidays, which she'd never liked. Asa gave her a final salute with his mug, then turned back to Kiki. "Where are we sitting?" "Top bleacher, next to Saulo." At least now the Keurig machine was working perfectly for her. Lauren filled up her mug, making a face at Kiki while she did so. "Sorry," she said. "I'm running a little behind this morning. I guess I'm . . . distracted." "Is it about the visit tonight?" Kiki was the only person Lauren had told about finishing her guardian ad litem training and her appointment to meet the kid she'd been assigned to for the first time. She probably would've kept even that information to herself, except she'd had to take an afternoon off to get fingerprinted. Since Lauren never took time off work, Kiki had been worried and texted her. Lauren hadn't even thought Kiki was on shift that day, but it was kind of nice. To have someone notice, and care. "I just don't even know what I'm doing," Lauren said. "I'm not good with kids. I mean, I haven't been around many. But I never know what to say. I'm like, How's school? and then that's it, I'm tapped out." "I still don't fully know what a guardian whatever is, but you're responsible and kind. You're going to kill it." Kiki's eyes widened as her own words seemed to sink in. "It being the role, not the kid. Not that you'd call the kid an it. Pretty sure there's a whole book about that." Lauren smiled. "I knew what you meant." They were walking together back to the ice skating rink, which was flanked by several sets of bleachers that accommodated everyone when they had these rare staff meetings. Her gaze scanned the twenty or so faces she'd come to know over the last two years. There were more employees, mostly part-time or seasonal, but they weren't the core group that came to meetings like this one. Asa had taken his spot on the top bleacher, deep in conversation with Saulo, who worked the front ticket counter. Most people had grouped in their cliquesâthose who worked the stands on Wonderland Walk, those who did maintenance and back-of-house, the front office people who Lauren assumed she would end up sitting with. Including . . . She stiffened, and next to her, Kiki sucked her teeth. "Right," Kiki said. "I was going to warn you . . ." There, in the bottom row of the bleachers, was Daniel Alvarez. Dolores' son, vice president of Cold World, and the target of all Lauren's stupid, pointless infatuation feelings since the first day she'd set eyes on him. He looked like he should play a sexy doctor on TVâall dark hair and smoldering eyes and perfect teeth. Although he didn't actually work on site at Cold World very often, when he did he always wore impeccable button-up shirts, stretched over his muscles and ironed within an inch of their life. The vice president thing was little more than a title, Lauren knew. She wasn't even entirely sure what he didâsomething with investments? She'd never had the chance to ask him because she'd spoken approximately five words to him, and she could remember exactly what they were. "Oh, I don't handle payroll." He'd stopped by her office because he had some question on the last check he'd received, and after blinking up at him for several awkward momentsâduring which Lauren had the uncomfortable feeling he knew exactly why she was rendered so speechlessâshe'd come up with that brilliant rejoinder. It was true, though. They contracted payroll to an outside company, which meant at least Lauren wasn't put in the uncomfortable position of knowing down to the penny what her coworkers made. She wished she could say she was subtle in her crush, but Kiki at least had noticed. And once, Dolores had made a joke about wondering when her son was going to settle down, and then given Lauren a look of such pity that she'd literally tossed and turned in bed for nights afterward, prickling with the memory. God, she was pathetic. "It's fine," she said now. "You don't have to warn me anytime he's on the premises. I can handleâ" In a completely unrelated, not-affected-by-Daniel move, Lauren tripped slightly on the transition to the carpet around the ice rink, sloshing hot coffee over her hand. "Ow," she said, switching the mug to the other hand so she could survey the damage. "Damn, you okay?" To her credit, Kiki immediately defaulted to concern rather than mocking. Lauren sucked on the sensitive skin between her thumb and her index finger, trying to soothe the burn. It was probably the exact wrong thing to do, but maybe at least she'd get a trace amount of caffeine in her system from her coffee-drenched skin. She almost couldn't have blamed Kiki if she had laughedâit was hilarious, after all, how tied up in knots Lauren could get. If Asa knew about her crushâwhich, god, she would dieâand he'd seen her make this kind of an ass of herself, he definitely would've laughed. Her gaze lifted to the bleachers. Daniel was slouched slightly, typing furiously into his phone with both thumbs. With any luck, that meant he hadn't seen her clumsy moment. She glanced then at Asaâit was the blue hair, she couldn't not notice himâbut he was rubbing the back of his neck, squinting intently at something in the distance. She turned, trying to figure out what he could be looking at, but the only thing she saw was the posted sign with all the ice rink rules. "Everyone is hereâgood!" Dolores exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She was a thin, birdlike woman with long black hair streaked with a single, classy line of silver. She'd come over from Cuba when she was a teenager, and worked her way through various service jobs before a well-connected customer had offered to help her start a business. Cold World had been little more than a cafĂ© with a higher-than-average air-conditioning bill when she started it at twenty-eight, the same age Lauren was now. Thirty years later, she'd built it into a true destination. One of the best parts of Lauren's jobâher boss was a total badass. Kiki encouraged her to climb the bleachers and sit up with them, but after already tripping once, Lauren didn't trust herself to make the journey. She perched on the very edge of the front bleacher at the opposite end from Daniel, sneaking a glance at him. His mother had already launched into her usual speechâthe holiday season is our most important, we need all hands on deck, let's make this a magical timeâbut he was still on his phone. She supposed he must have important investment-y stuff to stay on top of. "There is approved overtime from now until Christmas," Dolores was saying, "but please remember that if you didn't place a specific vacation request already, we are unable to accommodate any last-minute changes. See if you can switch shifts with a coworker! Find someone to cover for you! I'm sorry, my babies, but that's how it has to be." Dolores referring to a room full of adults as "babies" should've been infantilizing, but somehow she carried it off. Part of it was how dramatic her appearance always wasâsparkly jumpsuits, dresses with cinched waists and full skirts and quirky patterns, bright red lipstick. If Lauren tried to pull off any of itâthe endearments, the styleâshe'd look like an awkward try-hard. But Dolores made it all look fabulous. There were changes to the closing schedule that only came about because someone (everyone looked at Marcus, a college kid who slumped in his seat under the scrutiny) had been starting to mop when there were still guests present. There was the usual reminder that the Cold World sweatshirts were their biggest seller, and if a guest looked underdressed and uncomfortable, staff could gently remind guests that the gift shop was always open. "Gently," Dolores emphasized, pushing her hands down like they were all trying to rise up to shill branded merch and she had to physically restrain them. "Annual passes," Daniel said, glancing up from his phone. Apparently that was all the reminder Dolores needed, because she went off on another speech about the need to push the annual passes, bonuses available if a staff member sold more than a threshold number. Lauren tuned outâsince she wasn't customer-facing, none of those incentives applied to her. Dolores did this staff meeting each year before the holiday season, and each year Lauren thought that most of it was stuff that could've been put in an email. But she guessed there was at least one thing that couldn't go in an email. With an indulgent smile, Dolores called Asa to come down and hold out the Santa hat they'd filled earlier with slips of paper with their names written on them. Asa tripped a little himself bounding down the bleachersâmore a hitch in his step than a full-out face-plant, luckily, but still. He held up his arms in an I'm okay! gesture, and everyone laughed good-naturedly. Trust him to turn a clumsy moment into a reason for everyone to love him more. "Okay, okay," he said. "You know how this works. Grab a name, if it's yours put it back, but otherwise you gotta keep it. Honor system! Presents can be handmade or bought, but try to keep them around twenty bucks. The exchange will happen at the holiday party, which is . . ." He glanced back at Dolores for help. "The eighteenth," she inserted. "Here at Cold World, after hours." A Saturday night holiday party on-site, which meant that no matter how good a job the caterers did in breaking everything down, some poor suckers were going to have to come in the next morning to ensure that it was ready for the public. Lauren didn't normally work weekends, but last year she'd worked an hour or two just to help out. "There you have it," Asa said. "Now, we're going to try to do this in some semblance of an orderly fashion . . . Let's start with the first row and work our way up. Daniel, do the honors?" Asa's voice retained its usual cheerful tone, but there was a slight restraint to it that gave Lauren the impression he didn't think much of Daniel. She wondered if it was obvious to anyone else, then figured she must be imagining it. It wasn't like she had any special insight into Asa Williamson. Daniel stood, sliding his phone into his pocket, and reached into the Santa hat with a charming smile toward the bleachers, like he was a contestant on a game show. Lauren's stomach tightened with anticipation. What if he pulled her name? What would he get her? Probably something elegant, like a scented candle from a boutique, or a small, tasteful pin of something he'd associate with her. Like a bird, because he'd noticed she was shy, or an ant, because she was a hard worker Lauren frowned. That was the best she could do? Even in her imagination? Not, like, a butterfly because she was unique or a flower because she was beautiful? And the truth was that Lauren didn't particularly care for scented candles, and had only worn a watch and the same necklace for years. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts that she missed the opportunity to watch Daniel's face after he selected his name, see if he gave anything away. Everyone in the first row had already gone, and people from the second were starting to make their way to the front, skipping over Lauren. She jumped up to take her place in line. "I thought I'd have to jiggle your mouse," Asa said when she reached him. "Wake you up." It took Lauren a minute to figure out what he meant. Maybe it was something about the rasp of his voice when he'd said it, that insider jokey tone, but it had almost sounded like he'd said somethingdirty to her. But no. Just another computer/robot joke. She pulled a face and put her hand in the Santa hat, withdrawing a scrap of paper and putting it in the pocket of her cardigan. "You have to look at it," he said. "I will later." "But if you pick yourself, you have to go again," he said patiently. "Come on. Take a peek." She didn't know why it felt oddly vulnerable to unroll the paper while Asa watched. She knew her poker face was shit, that she'd probably look around for her gift recipient immediately, try to figure out what she might be able to get them that would feel personal but not too personal, useful but not too boring . . . "Oh," Dolores said, stepping in. "You two, stay after the meeting. I have something specific I want to discuss with you." Lauren's gaze shot to Asa's, but his expression was as confused as hers must have been. Their boss wanted to speak to them? Together? Why? They did snipe at each other sometimes. But Lauren thought they kept it professional when other people were around . . . at least she hoped they did. There was the time he'd gift-wrapped her desk chair. Then there'd been the weeks where these tiny little plastic penguins popped up around Cold World, hidden in the oddest places. Lauren had actually been kind of charmed by themâshe'd even slipped one into her pocket to take home. And yet when it came out that he was behind the prank, all she'd been able to say was something about how it had been confusing to customers. He'd also eaten her microwave burrito onceâwhich, to be fair, had been unlabeled and in the freezer for monthsâand she'd threatened to take it out of his paycheck. Like she had that power. Anyway, they were all fairly harmless skirmishes. But thinking about them all together made Lauren squirm, because the fact was that they were unprofessional, and she never, never would've acted that way with anyone else. Holy shit. Were they about to get fired ?
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