Noelle loves Christmas. She is named for it after all. But this year is different. After a recent break-up ruins her tropical getaway with sophisticated ex-almost-fiancé Preston, Noelle finds herself back in her hometown, stranded two weeks before C...
"You're sure you don't mind?" Nik asks, leaning through my passenger-side window.
Dark chocolatey hair peeks out from under his maroon beanie. His warm breath spirals into the night and into my truck cabin. I can smell Christmas trees and cold air all over him. I avoid the flutter in my stomach and shrug.
"Oh I mind. But I don't see a way out of it," I tell him, looking over his shoulder at my mom.
Nik turns and nods knowingly. My mother and aunt wave stupidly, and I know they were just talking about us.
"Well, get in."
"Warm and welcoming. Take it down a notch," Nik teases.
He situates himself in my truck. I feel so miniscule beside him. I flip my hair over my shoulder and put the heat on full blast and spend way too long rolling up his window. Anything to not pay attention to him or the cute little freckle by his lips.
"Just head towards town. All three deliveries are close," Nik instructs.
I press the gas down and pull out of Trodder's parking lot. The farm's glowing sign looks like one big blurry lightbulb in the fogging rearview.
"What?" I finally ask when I sense Nik looking at me in my peripheral.
"You look very nice today," Nik says plainly.
"But I didn't before?"
"Just different. Maybe it's the lack of falling over." Nik smirks.
"It happened twice." I remind him, keeping my eyes straight ahead.
The first stop is quick. The family is out of town this weekend and left a message with Aunt Holly to leave the evergreen bouquets at their front door. Nik is back in the passenger seat of my truck in no time.
Next, we're off to the school. Nik replaces the two wreaths adorning the front doors, turning on their battery-pack lights. He discards the old ones (now brown and depressed) in the truck bed and fishes something from his backpack.
A herd of wannabe reindeer blocks the exit of the school's parking lot.
"Only in this damn town," I mutter under my breath.
"Look at you with the secret stash of holiday cookies," Nik says, sitting back in the truck.
His foot hits the carton of Stella's gingerbread men, popping it open.
"Are you a closet Christmas fan?" He asks, picking the box up and holding it in his lap.
"Definitely not," I answer.
"Is that why this one's bleeding from his head?" Nik grins, holding up a cracked gingerbread man -missing half his head and covered in red icing. "Poor guy."
"Please take them off my hands," I laugh, pushing it back inside the box.
I turn the truck onto Main Street. It's like the entire crowded town strip was painted with an illuminated rainbow brush.
"Ugh." My sigh is audible.
"Wreath delivery that bad, huh?" Nik asks, his eyes suddenly boring into my soul. "Or maybe it's just my company that's so daunting."
"No-I," I mumble, flustered at his unexpected seriousness. on me. "Really -You're just blunt."
"Oh."
"But don't feel bad. It's pretty much everyone's company I'm not up for nowadays." I cringe at the truth.
My hands grip the steering wheel tightly. We pass under a strand of Christmas lights and Nik's face is momentarily doused in red and green.
We come to yet another red light, and I take the chance to loosen my arms; they're beyond stiff from holding onto the steering wheel so tightly.
"Doesn't it take more energy than it's worth?" Nik asks.
"What do you mean?"
"Hating Christmas -I mean -It's unfathomably wonderful. I could fathom using all my energy and will to hate it." Nik looks at me across the center console. "Isn't it just easier to accept it? I know your spirit is maimed-"
"My spirit is not maimed, thanks" I say, waving my hands. "It's nonexistent."
"Are they always this dramatic in New York?" Nik asks, brows creased.
"It's not dramatic. It's true. I had everything planned -the boyfriend, the proposal, the next 20 years!" I exclaim, heating up.
"What happened after 20 years?"
"You know what I meant," I huff. "When he dumped me, it's like I lost it all at once."
"I know it seems -infinitely intolerable." Nik looks down, scratching his midnight shadow.
"That sounds like experience," I mumble.
"Something like that," Nik says, taking another sip of eggnog.
He stares into his mug pensively, like he's searching the creamy spiced depths for some secret answer.
"You know I don't even know you, but here you are riding shotgun." I let my curls fall to cover the side of my face.
"Does that bother you?" Nik's raspy voice is almost a whisper.
I peer at him, biting my lip. "That you could kill me in my sleep? Little bit."
"Are you inviting me over?" His eyebrows turn into semicircles.
"Funny."
"Go ahead. Take a shot," Nik tempts.
"Ok. Best guesses?" I steal a glance at him -at his shaggy hair and Carhart hat and flannel. Oh GOD, the flannel.
"Do your worst."
"Virgo. Ex-athlete, I'm thinking high school. Christmas is your favorite holiday. You don't actually have a driver's license." I laugh when Nik chuckles at this. "And your mom made you way too much eggnog as a child."
"Pretty perceptive for a city girl," Nik says.
"Amendment: Prefers population under 897."
"Now you got it all," he grins.
"Where do you even live? In town?" I find myself asking. "I mean -I may as well drop you off. Nothing else."
"I'm actually staying at the farm cabin," Nik says, looking down.
"At Trodder's?" My interest is piqued.
I want to ask why and how and since when, but I decide against it. Something about the way he looks out the window makes me think it's not his favorite subject.
"Guess we'll just head back there. I can pick up my parents anyway and save my uncle the trip. This was," I pause, biting my lip. "Not horrible."
"It wasn't, was it?" Nik smiles.
Somewhere, in the depths of the deep South Pole, an iceberg is melting.
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