“Do you like the holidays?” she asks as the waiter walks away after filling our waters.
I sip from my glass. “Not really. My dad died around Christmas, so it’s an association that makes me remember that event, and sometimes that hurts. I miss him a lot.”
Her gaze softens as she watches me, and her hand seeks mine on the table. She holds it, rubbing her thumb back and forth.
“You like Christmas movies?” she asks.
That’s another thing I like about her. I don’t get pity from her, and she doesn’t dwell. She cares but doesn’t keep something a subject when she can see my discomfort. I need that. I took myself to a really dark place that Christmas and now I just want to remember the good things.
“I do. Even though I’m not big on the holidays, there are some great movies.” I set down my fork. “I have a question for you. It’s huge. Extremely important. It can affect us in a major way.”
She bites her lip and nods. “Okay, hit me with it.” She lets out a breath, and I love how she plays along with me.
“All right, here it goes.” I give a dramatic pause for effect. “IsDie Harda Christmas movie?”
“Oh, hundred percent.” She doesn’t hesitate. “It happens at a holiday party, people! Just because there isn’t snow on the ground doesn’t mean it isn’t the holidays. It’s aquintessentialChristmas movie. Never go a year without watching it.”
Score!
She gave the perfect answer. I’m not ashamed that I’ve gotten into many arguments over this same question, but I’ll fight until my last breath.It is.
She looks out the window to the scene and I follow her gaze. It’s almost like a painting with the decorations on every light pole down Main Street.
“I do feel bad for people who don’t have a white Christmas, though. That’s what makes it magical, but yes, absolutely, it’s a Christmas movie. I have it on DVD.” She moves her eyes down to the table and shyly asks, “Wanna come over and watch it?”
“I’d like that,” I rush the words and catch her smirk. I might’ve jumped the gun on answering, but I want her to know that I’ll spend whatever time with her that she gives me. Life is too short, Dad taught me that, and it’s too special, she’s teaching me that.
My special grumpy girl… you are mine.
Noel
I fiddlewith the mugs as I open up double packs of hot chocolate to make them extra chocolatey and wait for the electric kettle to finish boiling. My fingers tap rapidly against the chipped kitchen counter as I peek under the ceiling cabinets as Evan checks out the pictures on my wall.
First, I’m glad that Nolan isn’t here. I texted him and he’ll be staying with Oriana. He’d have a fit if he knew Evan was over and I’m pretty sure he’d rush back and be sitting between us on the couch. I’m in my late twenties for heaven’s sake!
I don’t need a chaperone.
But second, what was I thinking?!
Maybe I do need a chaperone.
I met this guy yesterday and invited him to my apartment. From experience, this is bound to end badly.
He smiles at some of the crazy pictures I have of my brothers and me, and it’s like Jack Frost was sucked out of the room because I’m melting.
It can’t be that bad if I’m feeling like this, right?
I mix up the hot chocolate and add a lot of marshmallows to mine.
“Marshmallows?” I lift the bag.
“Is there any other way?”
Grinning at his response, I load his mug up. I’m a glutton for sweet tooth overload hot chocolate, better he finds out these things about me now.
I head into my small living room and hand him his mug as I dim the lighting and reach around the back of the couch to grab a huge blanket. It’s supposed to be on a king-size bed, but this is only for the couch. I love having a good cuddle with an endless supply of a blanket, tucked behind me, between my legs, hugging some of it when watching scary movies. Plus it was easier to get a huge comforter than to have several small throws all over the place.
My friend Zetty atDirty Hoestaught me that.