lights, tinsel, and garland hung everywhere. Even the staff had all sorts of festive Christmas swag on.
Not to mention, I saw at least three parties that obviously were having their Christmas shindig.
Or starting here, anyway.
Not terribly impressive. Bonuses must be low this year.
“And what prompts it this time?” he asked just before taking a swig off his beer.
“Just general need to kick your butt.”
He smirked. Then, I know just to irritate me, started humming along to Deck The Halls.
Admitting his little cheek kiss the other day had about sent me out of my mind was the last thing I would do.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I don’t know what irritated me more—the fact that he did it, or that he’d stayed on my mind for days.
How screwed up is that? I mean, this was Hawkins.
Friends don’t kiss friends on the cheek.
I finished my glass of wine. And wished I had three more. Or an IV.
“You ready?” he asked as he finished his beer.
I nodded. “Either take me home or promise me no more Christmas for the night.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “What is your beef about Christmas anyway?”
“You know the reason. My folks died.”
“Erica, they died on like the third or something. Years and years ago.”
“The seventh, thank you very much.”
“Still doesn’t explain your total hatred of the holiday.”
The waitress came by, with her own spin on the seasonal garb—Chili’s shirt, Santa hat with a jingle bell, and a flashing strobe of a badge that I thought would give me seizures.
“Anything else you need?” she asked, her voice way too bubbly. And her attention to Hawkins was a bit more than I could take.
Ugh.
It sucked sometimes being best friends with such a good looking guy.
“The check,” I snapped.
Hawkins glanced at me, as did the waitress. Though I think the waitress tried to freeze me with her icy glare before pivoting on her heel and taking off.
“You’re snippy.”
“Too much Christmas,” I said. “Can we get going? I am about to barf.”
“Calm down, Scrooge. We’ll get to your place soon enough.”
I blinked. “Wait, isn’t your place closer?”
For a second he paused, pinning me with his green eyes. “The place is a mess. You wouldn’t want to hang out there.”
“Like I haven’t been in a messy guy’s house.” Really, I just was ready to go.
Across the way, the table started singing along to the latest Christmas carol coming over the speakers. It was worse than a bachelorette party at the karaoke bar.
“Whatever, let’s just go.”
I was pained with two more Christmas carols before finally getting out of Chili’s and heading to my place. Hawkins drove, because he’s a guy, and I figured it was his gas bill, not mine.
We’d gotten just a few blocks, the cold bite of winter trying to blast us with sideways snow. Snow should just lie softly on the ground and be pretty, but thanks to the winds, it flew across the road, and built up on one side of the buildings.
Gotta love Midwest living.
I shivered just looking at the caked-on snow.
“You never did answer my question,” he finally said.
“What question?”
“Why you hate Christmas so much.”
“You’ve known me for twenty years, and you’re just now asking?”
“I’ve always wanted to know. Just…”
I shrugged. I kinda knew what he meant. We’d known each other most of our lives. Even when we were married to other people, we were still around. At least through Facebook, anyway. In fact a lot of the post-high school time, we remained friends but distant. It wasn’t until the last five years or so our friendship came back full strength.
And there are things—when you’ve known someone forever—that you just sort of accept. Like I know that Andrew Hawkins is a handsome charmer, and he’ll always be that guy all the girls swoon over.
I don’t hold it against him.
Most of the time.
“It’s a thing,” I finally said.
“So you really are Mrs. Grinch…”
Not to mention, I saw at least three parties that obviously were having their Christmas shindig.
Or starting here, anyway.
Not terribly impressive. Bonuses must be low this year.
“And what prompts it this time?” he asked just before taking a swig off his beer.
“Just general need to kick your butt.”
He smirked. Then, I know just to irritate me, started humming along to Deck The Halls.
Admitting his little cheek kiss the other day had about sent me out of my mind was the last thing I would do.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I don’t know what irritated me more—the fact that he did it, or that he’d stayed on my mind for days.
How screwed up is that? I mean, this was Hawkins.
Friends don’t kiss friends on the cheek.
I finished my glass of wine. And wished I had three more. Or an IV.
“You ready?” he asked as he finished his beer.
I nodded. “Either take me home or promise me no more Christmas for the night.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “What is your beef about Christmas anyway?”
“You know the reason. My folks died.”
“Erica, they died on like the third or something. Years and years ago.”
“The seventh, thank you very much.”
“Still doesn’t explain your total hatred of the holiday.”
The waitress came by, with her own spin on the seasonal garb—Chili’s shirt, Santa hat with a jingle bell, and a flashing strobe of a badge that I thought would give me seizures.
“Anything else you need?” she asked, her voice way too bubbly. And her attention to Hawkins was a bit more than I could take.
Ugh.
It sucked sometimes being best friends with such a good looking guy.
“The check,” I snapped.
Hawkins glanced at me, as did the waitress. Though I think the waitress tried to freeze me with her icy glare before pivoting on her heel and taking off.
“You’re snippy.”
“Too much Christmas,” I said. “Can we get going? I am about to barf.”
“Calm down, Scrooge. We’ll get to your place soon enough.”
I blinked. “Wait, isn’t your place closer?”
For a second he paused, pinning me with his green eyes. “The place is a mess. You wouldn’t want to hang out there.”
“Like I haven’t been in a messy guy’s house.” Really, I just was ready to go.
Across the way, the table started singing along to the latest Christmas carol coming over the speakers. It was worse than a bachelorette party at the karaoke bar.
“Whatever, let’s just go.”
I was pained with two more Christmas carols before finally getting out of Chili’s and heading to my place. Hawkins drove, because he’s a guy, and I figured it was his gas bill, not mine.
We’d gotten just a few blocks, the cold bite of winter trying to blast us with sideways snow. Snow should just lie softly on the ground and be pretty, but thanks to the winds, it flew across the road, and built up on one side of the buildings.
Gotta love Midwest living.
I shivered just looking at the caked-on snow.
“You never did answer my question,” he finally said.
“What question?”
“Why you hate Christmas so much.”
“You’ve known me for twenty years, and you’re just now asking?”
“I’ve always wanted to know. Just…”
I shrugged. I kinda knew what he meant. We’d known each other most of our lives. Even when we were married to other people, we were still around. At least through Facebook, anyway. In fact a lot of the post-high school time, we remained friends but distant. It wasn’t until the last five years or so our friendship came back full strength.
And there are things—when you’ve known someone forever—that you just sort of accept. Like I know that Andrew Hawkins is a handsome charmer, and he’ll always be that guy all the girls swoon over.
I don’t hold it against him.
Most of the time.
“It’s a thing,” I finally said.
“So you really are Mrs. Grinch…”
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