Eggnog & Evergreen

29 • Fireplace

Nik managed to scrape together a makeshift dinner. What's left of it are now scattered across the tiny coffee table in front of the fire.

Two wine glasses and potato chips crumbs. Champions.

An hour ago, I never would have imagined it possible to feel this snug and cozy. Yet here we are, sprawled out on the blankets in front of the fireplace.

"What is it?" Nik asks.

"What?" I didn't even realize I was smiling. "Oh, I just -This is not me. Sitting half naked with some woodsman I just met."

"Woodsman?" Nik laughs heartily.

He shifts ever so slightly closer to me. The deep V of his T shirt shows off his clavicles. Even they have muscles.

"Sorry," I roll my eyes. "Woodsy man."

"See what happens when you don't plan out every minute of every day?"

"I never said I planned every minute." I stretch out a little more comfortably, well aware how snug we are in front of this fire and well aware how crackling and romantic it is. Most aware how almost drunk I am. Deja would be so proud.

"I bet you wish you could, though?" Nik asks.

"Well, if I planned today a little better then I'd be wearing pants right now," I giggle.

"You're pretty funny, Noe."

"I've been told," I smirk. "You're pretty-"

"Woodsy?" Nik finishes for me.

I laugh at the accuracy.

"You know, I don't see a Christmas tree around here. What's that about?" I ask, craning my neck and changing the subject.

"I always decorate one on Christmas Eve," he answers.

"But then you only get it for one night," I raise my eyebrow. "It's Tree 101."

"From the expert," Nik jokes.

"Well -Yes! I had our tree up since December 1." I tell him.

Nik is kind enough to gloss over the our in my sentence.

"Even if I did have a tree, I'd have hidden it from you. Don't want you throwing shade at it, or lighting it on fire." Nik teases.

I roll my eyes, looking at the fireplace. "You don't even have a stocking. Do you put that up Christmas Eve too?"

"We used to." He frowns.

I hear the we and instantly feel like a moron.

"I'm sorry," I blurt.

"Don't be," Nik says, shaking his head.

I stare at him, his face bathed in firelight, flickering shadows in his eyes. I breathe him in, and suddenly enthralled is insignificant.

"Is this your move, Nik?" I ask, coy. I'm aware of all the wine I had for dinner.

"My move?"

"You know, snowy whispering pines outside, the cozy blankets and popping fireplace," I say, waving my hands around.

Nik looks down for a second before shaking his head. "I don't have a move, Noelle."

"Saying you don't have a move is a move," I tell him. "I'm from New York. I've seen and heard it all."

"And?" Nik moves closer. "Is it working?"

The only thing between us is six inches of blanket.

"It's not not working." I pull at my lip.