I take the final sip of my Starbucks, regretting getting a hot coffee and not an iced one as I worm my way through the crowd, making my way to a nearby trashcan. The mall is packed, filled with warm bodies, all trying to get their Christmas shopping done. Aside from Skye, who mom had gripped tightly, scared to lose her amongst the swarm of people, we'd all gone our separate ways upon entering the mall, planning to meet in one hour at the lineup for Santa.

Shopping for Nikki had been a breeze. If there was one thing I knew about moms, it was that they love sentimental gifts. I went to the specialty jewelry store on the far side of the mall, where I picked up a gold pendant necklace with a T engraved on it. Beside the circle-shaped pendant was a small emerald charm, Tom's birthstone.

I was near the escalator that led to the second floor of the mall when Wyatt literally ran into me, out of breath, "Oh, thank god," He is practically wheezing, his baseball hat that he'd put on to conceal his identity slightly askew, revealing his curls. He still wore his sunglasses too, despite being indoors. "Marley, you've got to help me. I was shopping, but then this girl recognized me. I tried shushing her, but she'd revealed who I was before I could... there are dozens of them, and they're headed this way."

I scoff, pushing his hand off my arm as I shake my head, "Crazed fangirls are chasing you through the mall?" I ask him. My tone laced with disbelief. It sounded so cliché, the kind of thing that'd only happen in a movie. All I can hear is various conversations happening around us and the Christmas music playing on the radio. No screaming fangirls insight. Wyatt nods, his breathing finally regular. "I'm sure you'll survive," I nod at him, turning on my heel to continue walking.

I expect Wyatt to call after me, but something else stops me in my tracks before I can walk away. The sound of squealing makes my ears ring as a group of teenage girls approach me, their footsteps making loud noises against the floor. The group of girls looks to be around Harper's age, their eyes wide as they search for Wyatt.

Before I can think of what to do, Wyatt grabs my wrist, dragging me over to a nearby photo booth. He goes in first, dragging me in behind him, "believe me now?" He asks, tugging his hat off. His curls are dishevelled and all over the place. He takes his sunglasses off next, revealing his wide green eyes.

"What are you doing?" I whisper yell, trying to scoot as far away from him as possible. I hadn't been in a photo booth since I was a kid. Wyatt and I fit on the seat, but our sides were pressed against one another. "Could you at least have found a bigger hiding place?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Wyatt mutters sarcastically, trying to keep his voice down, "that wasn't really my top priority when looking for somewhere to hide." Wyatt groans as the girls begin screaming his name, leaning his face in his hands as he lets out a frustrated sigh. I could feel his leg shaking against mine, "I can't believe she recognized me," He mumbled, more to himself than to me, "I'd been so careful..."

"Clearly not careful enough," I mutter, trying to shift my leg away from his.

"Can you not?" Wyatt sighs, looking over at me. I don't think I've ever seen Wyatt so frustrated. He was always so chill back in high school. Nothing fazed him back then. For the first time since he's arrived, I take note of the slight bags under his eyes. He was exhausted. I'd be tired too if I had to constantly worry about random teenagers chasing me throughout public places.

I don't apologize, but I do nod, turning my attention to the screen in front of us instead. It flashes for us to put a dollar in the machine to begin taking our pictures, something neither of us reach forward to do. It seems as if the crowd of girls has gotten bigger. The more people they informed about Wyatt, the louder they became.

"Can I ask if you have a plan, at least?" I ask him after a beat of silence, awkwardly twisting the ring on my left hand, "or are you forcing me to stay here until the mall closes?"

Once again, Wyatt does not find my sarcasm humorous, "you know, I haven't really thought that far ahead," he remarks, running his fingers through his hair, making his curls stand up even more than they already were.

Of course, it didn't seem like Wyatt thought ahead about anything. "Okay, well, we need to meet everyone else in 15. So, if you don't think of something soon, I'm leaving and sending them after you." I was only partially being serious. While I do think it'd be funny to watch Wyatt get swarmed by a group of screaming girls, I have a feeling his mom wouldn't be too happy about me abandoning him.

"I don't see you coming up with any bright ideas," He observes. The more time we spent in this cramped photo booth, the more frustrated Wyatt seemed to become.

"Cause this isn't my problem," I remind him, using my arm that wasn't pressed up against his to gesture to the curtain of the photo booth, that leads out to where the swarm of girls are, "you know what," I shake my head, "I'm going. Good luck getting-"

Before I can step out of the booth, Wyatt snakes his arm around my waist, tugging me even closer to him than I already had been. I suck in a breath. Our faces are now mere inches apart, our noses practically touching. Through the thickness of my coat and the knit sweater underneath, I can still feel Wyatt's lean fingers holding my waist tightly, "please," He lets out a breath, his eyes pleading for me to stay. His green eyes have grown round, practically begging me to stay,  "usually my security deals with stuff like this. I don't know what to do. I need your help."

"You can't just grab me anytime I try walking away," I ignore his question, placing my hand on his chest to push him away. Wyatt releases his grip on my waist, placing both of his hands on his lap. "And if I help you, it means nothing. I am doing this for your mom, not you."

"So, you'll help me?"

I sigh, nodding my head, "trade jackets with me," I instruct him, already pulling my arm that isn't pressed against his out of my cream wool trench coat. It's a bit of a challenge trying to get our jackets off in such a tight space, but after about a minute or so of smacking our arms against one another, Wyatt and I have passed our jackets to the other. "When we get out there, duck your head and walk. Fans will recognize your jacket and think I'm you."

Wyatt scoffs, sliding my jacket on. Due to us being nearly the same size, my jacket was a perfect fit, "you really think so?" He asks, unsure.

I zip his khaki green winter jacket up, taking the black hat he'd been wearing and placing it on my head, tucking the ends of my hair in so it looks like my hair is Wyatt's length. "Definitely," I nod, passing him my mustard-coloured beanie for him to put it on, "Once I turn around, they'll realize I'm not you, so you've got to be quick."

Wyatt places my hat and his sunglasses on before looking at me, "thank you for this," He smiles, his shoulders falling slightly as he sighs, relieved, "you didn't have to help."

"I'm pretty sure I did," I remark, reaching over to fix my jacket collar for him. I lift it slightly, making it appear as if it's possible he could have more hair tucked in the collar of the jacket, "I mean, after you practically begged me to help."

"There's a difference between begging and asking," He reminds me, scoffing, "let's just go."

I step out first, ducking my head. My back was facing the girls who'd run over to look for Wyatt. They continued to chatter about not being able to find him until one girl yelled, "Look, there he is," Feet clatter against the floor, the sound getting louder as the girls got closer. Eventually, one girl places her hand on my shoulder, tapping it slightly.

I resist the urge to smirk as I turn around, faking a confused expression as I turn to face the crowd of girls. There are at least fifteen of them, all wearing crazy expressions and practically shaking with excitement, "Can I help you?" I ask the young girl, taking Wyatt's hat off, my long hair cascading past my shoulders.

"Oh?" The one who tapped my shoulder says, looking back at the other girls, "we just thought..."

"Wyatt Oliver is here," another girl informs me, a proud smile on her face. She must have been the girl that initially recognized him, "you're wearing the same jacket as him."

"Oh, really?" I ask, pretending to be shocked by that information as I glance down at his coat. "I heard he was here... I think someone posted that he was getting coffee." I lie, pretending to be helpful. If I can get these girls on the other side of the mall, we wouldn't have to worry about them.

"Really?" A third girl asks, excited.  A few of them chant their thanks as they rush past me, over to the Starbucks by the far entrance. I laugh as soon as the girls are gone, walking over to the escalators.

I spot Wyatt at the bottom of the escalator. His attention focused on his phone as he's waiting for me, "I told them you were getting coffee." I inform him, walking over to him once I'm on the bottom floor. I chuckle slightly, finally getting a better look at Wyatt in my jacket and hat.

"So, I'm in the clear?" He asks, pulling my coat off. I nod, unzipping his jacket and passing it to him. Once Wyatt and I are back in our coats, we begin walking, headed towards the large display where Santa meets people for pictures.

Neither of us speaks as we walk over to where we're meeting everyone. Wyatt keeps his head ducked, trying not to draw any more attention to himself while I look around for my family. The two of us were the last to arrive. Nikki and mom were talking, James and Lizzie were pulling the twins out of the double stroller, and Skye held onto Harper and dad, swinging herself back and forth excitedly.

"Sorry we're late," I apologize once we're close. Everyone's eyes land on Wyatt and I, all laced with confusion, "we uh, ran into some trouble." I regret my choice of words as soon as I say them. Since when are Wyatt and I a we?

"Oh," Mom nods, still confused, "okay, well, our reservation to meet Santa is now, let's line up."

We enter the line, which isn't as busy as you'd think it'd be. Instead of lining up for Santa and being in line for hours, this mall booked reservations, making the whole process a lot easier. Skye takes the lead, followed by mom and dad. Wyatt walks away from his spot behind me, moving to where his mom is in the line.

"What was that about?" Harper whispers, furrowing her brows at me, "why were you and Wyatt together?"

"Some crazy fans spotted him," I explain, shuffling forward. I could see the man dressed as Santa now, taking pictures with another family. Behind him was a painted backdrop, one that was faded and looks like it hasn't been replaced in years. "he dragged me away and begged me to help him get rid of them."

"And you did?" James asks, adjusting the red bow on Iris' headband.

I nod, "only because I knew how important it was for Skye and Nikki that he was here."

"That's the only reason you helped?" Lizzie questions, a suspicious eyebrow raised. Unlike Harper, who'd shrugged it off once I answered the question, both Lizzie and James look at me questionably, as if there is more to the story than what I told them.

"Yup," I nod, quirking my head at her. Before they can ask me anything else, it's our turn. Skye runs over to Santa first, whispering to him what she wants for Christmas. After that, Lizzie and James both join her, holding the twins in their Christmas-themed outfits. We all walk over once all the "kids" have gotten their photos taken, crowding around the area where Santa is sitting for a family picture. I wrap my arm over Harper's shoulder, standing near the seat where Santa is.

"You guys should take a family photo," Wyatt offers, placing his hand on his mom's arm to guide her away.

"It's okay," I shake my head, looking over to him and his mom. Sure, a photo with just my siblings and parents would have been nice, but the way Nikki smiles at me, mouthing her thanks, makes it worth it. Even if I haven't quite forgiven Wyatt yet, I won't hurt Nikki again. "I think we got a good one."