Pure, delicious glee cracks her face in two; there are no more attempts to hide her toothy grins behind restrained quirks of her lips. She opens her body toward him, leaning heavily on the table with one elbow while the other juts out into the air, her hand planted firmly on her hip. “I dare you to publicly ask someone to meet you for a sleigh ride at 11:45,” she says, tapping her nails against his journal. “11:45 PM! Raven’s choice.”