Ridiculous: Mattory

1: Twas The Night That Changed Everything

Matt

The smell of evergreens and sugary treats that I can only define as the smell of Christmas hits me full in the face as the door swings open after only two knocks. A pleasant warmth curls around me, but I don't have time to dwell on it before Whitney forcibly drags me inside.

"Goodness gracious Matt, we were afraid you'd forgotten us for a while there!" My coworker's hug is brief but surprisingly suffocating, and I fake a swat at her arm when she finishes.

"Wait, who are you again?" I say teasingly, and she smacks my shoulder, for real. "Sorry, traffic was a nightmare." A wide grin spreads across my face, and I raise a hand in greeting to my fellow members of Studio C. "Hey Whit, Stephen, Jason." More faces appear from the kitchen and dining room. I give similar greetings to Natalie, Stacey, Adam, James, and Jeremy as they poke their heads in. I hang my jacket up and try to let the cheerful mood wash over me, but I can't help the spike of worry that there's one face missing in this crowd.

"Is Mal late too?" I ask when Mallory doesn't appear after a few moments.

"Oh, nah, she's around here somewhere," Natalie answers, before hollering. "MALLORY!"

"Natalie, what do you—" I hear Mallory's voice before I see her, and I feel a grin spread across my face as she emerges from the hallway. "Oh, hey Matt, you did make it," she says, throwing me a dazzling smile. I don't know how she does it, but one of those smiles never fails to light up the entire room. Is it any wonder I fall a little bit more in love with her every time I see one?

"Traffic," I say again, jamming my hands in my pockets for want of something to do with them. No. Don't go down that train of thought, Matt. Leave your crush at the door before you end up doing something stupid. Again. "Merry Christmas." The words are polite; safe.

"Merry Christmas," she replies distractedly, throwing a glance over her shoulder back into the kitchen. The grin slips off my face as she calls to Whitney about rolls being finished, and my friends begin to drift back to what they were doing before I arrived. I allow myself to get caught up in the flow of the casual party. With all the stress that surrounded the holidays, a party with good friends and no expectations was certainly one of the highlights of this time of year. It was a celebration in and of itself, an acknowledgment of our successful Christmas show at Studio C, last night. We'd done an excellent job this year if I said so myself. Still, the image of Mallory—her infectious smile, her hair beginning to escape from the confines of a thick ponytail, her soft sweater starting to dip off one shoulder to reveal the thin t-shirt underneath—haunts my mind the entire night.

Dinner is a loud but joyous affair, but I find my concentration slipping as the conversations veer into more somber territories. A headache begins to pound behind my eyes, and I excuse myself right after dessert, hoping a few minutes of quiet would ease it.

The distance between the dining room and the living room is successful in muffling most of the conversations, though I do hear a hearty burst of laughter every few minutes. Sitting on the couch turns into more of an undignified flop, my limbs heavy with exhaustion. Along with the general busyness that characterized this time of year, I'd only managed to get two hours of sleep last night, and I was starting to feel it. I sigh and watch the flames flicker in the fireplace, pleasantly distracted by the mindless activity.

I hear Mallory's laugh over the others' and close my eyes, allowing my thoughts to drift back to places they really shouldn't. I can't stop, though; I never can. I think of Naturally, of how tightly I'd held her, how she'd pressed against me, and how I'd hoped in those moments—with my lips firmly on hers—that maybe, finally, we could make something more of our friendship.