by Kennedy Fox
I snap back to reality, though.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, and I’m suddenly nervous. Was the man box a good idea? Was it stupid? Was it enough? Am I enough?
I blow out a breath as I brush away those insecurities. There ain’t no room for them here at this party.
Although one question still plagues my mind. Should I have confessed my feelings for him in the card I wrote? I didn’t, for the record. With Brittany’s help, I wrote about ten different versions of cards ranging from friendly to raunchy, and I gave her one on the tame end to include with the gift.
Todd grins down at me. “No need to apologize.”
He still hasn’t let go of my arm, and did it just get about a thousand degrees hotter in here? In the middle of the moment we’re having, goddamn Belinda walks by.
“Didn’t realize you two were so close,” she murmurs loud enough for us both to hear. Todd backs swiftly away after he makes sure I’m not going to fall over with my wine after bumping into him.
“Yes, we’re friends,” Todd emphasizes, and if that isn’t a dagger right to the heart, I don’t know what is.
“I’ll remind you of the company’s fraternization policy,” she says.
“Yes, ma’am,” Todd says. “I’m very familiar with it, and as I understand it, friendships and relationships are not prohibited provided they follow the guidelines set forth in the policy.”
Her lips tip in what I can only assume is a bit of a smile at Todd. “Have fun tonight.” Her words are directed more at him than me, but it’s still basically the least-genuine wish of fun I’ve ever heard. I’ve never seen anyone smile like that before. It legit looked like a strain on her face to have to tip her mouth upward.
She turns to the bar, orders herself a cranberry juice, and I bolt away from both her and Todd, who apparently has the office fraternization policy memorized and probably thinks it’s a horrible idea to date a colleague, particularly one like me who has such an obvious crush on him.
Why did I have to draw his name in this ducking Secret Santa thing?
We sit for dinner, and I spot Todd two tables away at what I can only describe as the Boy’s Club table. All the twenty-something guys in our office sit together. I tick off each one in my head as I glance around: Kevin, Joe, Carl, Steve, Brad, Greg, Jeff, and, of course, Todd are all laughing at something as salad plates are placed in front of them. I glance around my table, a sort of Girl’s Club I suppose with Brittany, myself, Claire, Myrna, Vickie, Nancy, Karen, and an empty chair next to me, which Belinda slides into as the salads are served.
She looks at me and sighs, and then she turns to the other side to chat up Claire and Myrna.
Well, whatever. She’s the one who took the chair.
I give Brittany a look and focus on just eating my salad as I try not to let the nerves press to the surface—not the nerves of having my new boss who hates me sitting beside me, but the nerves for the unveiling of the Secret Santas.
I’d sort of forgotten that someone has been sending me gifts, too, and as much as I still think it’s Brittany, she swears up and down that it isn’t. So does someone in the office really have a crush on me? Or is someone playing a prank?
Brit and I both grab another drink before the main course is served, and then one more for good measure before dessert. I’m slightly tipsy and totally turned in my chair toward Brit and away from Belinda as we await the big speech Warren makes every year.
He finally stands and moves toward the Christmas tree at the front of the room. Presents are piled around it, courtesy of Myrna, who takes the lead on everything in our office, and Warren starts talking. “Happy Holidays, Windy City Public Relations!” he begins, and a whoop rises up from those of us who’ve had one or two more drinks than necessary.
It’s me. I whoop. Brit does, too.
“Thank you for another outstanding year. Market trends show we’re outperforming our competition, and we’ve got publicists banging down our doors to get a chance to work with us. That’s on everyone gathered in this room, so thank you for all you do. Because of your efforts, you’ll see a nice year-end bonus deposited with your next paycheck.” He holds up a glass. “Congratulations, and keep up the excellent work. Cheers.” He takes a sip of his amber liquid while the rest of us partake. Even Belinda takes a tiny sip of her cranberry juice.
“Without further ado, let’s get to the Secret Santa gifts!” he says, and my heart starts pounding. “In keeping with tradition, we’ll dismiss table by table. Come up, find your gift, and return to your table. Once everyone who has participated has their gifts, you may open them. We’ll start with the table closest to the windows.”
That’s the Boy’s Club table. I watch as Todd gets up, scans the gifts, and picks up the rather large box from me. He glances at the card with his name on it. I typed up the label on the envelope (just as I have all week so he wouldn’t recognize my handwriting), and he returns to his table.
“Stop staring,” Brit says, elbowing me, and I roll my eyes.
“I wasn’t,” I hiss. I was. I totally was.
Each table is dismissed to get their gifts, and my table is last. I find my name on a rather large box, and when I lift it, I find that it’s actually pretty heavy. I’m excited to see what’s inside as I take it back to my table. I pass right by Todd on my way by, and when I glance over at him, he’s looking at me.
I swear to God, this heat passes between us. I’m positive I’m imagining things since I have such a monster crush on him, or maybe it’s the wine, but I’ve never wanted something more to spark between us than I do right now.
I have to take a shot tonight. When he comes over to thank me for the gift, that’s when I’ll do it. I’ll hit on him. I take a bolstering sip of my wine, and I’m grateful when I spot Belinda over by the bar instead of in the seat beside me. She didn’t get in on the Secret Santa stuff since she started the same day we picked names, but could you even imagine if I pulled her name instead of Todd’s?
“That’s everyone,” Warren says once we’re all seated again. “Go ahead and open! And once again, happy holidays.”
Everyone claps politely even though we’re all like children who can’t wait to rip into their presents on Christmas morning.
You’d think that for the first time this entire week, I would start with the card if for no other reason than to prove I’m right that it’s been Brit all along...but that’s not the girl I am. I’m an open-the-present-first kind of girl through and through.
I tear off the paper and see a box similar to the one I wrapped for Todd...except this one says WOMAN BOX all over it.
I can’t help my laugh as I look over at Brit, who’s reading her own card. She freaking ordered the same thing for me that I ordered for Todd? So original.
I open the box and find an assortment of wine bottles inside along with all different sorts of popcorn and popcorn toppings. There’s also some spa stuff in there, bubble bath and loofahs and scrubs and glitter bath bombs, and more goodies to use on my bullet journal.
It’s beyond perfect, clearly customized for the things I like, which was an option on the man box website, but I went with the pre-selected dark beers instead of choosing the custom option. I’m about to lean over to squeeze Brit for being so thoughtful when I realize I still haven’t opened the card.
Imagine my utter shock when I finally do get to the card and see the name at the end.
It’s finally time to reveal myself
I guess I’m not Santa’s little elf
I’m just a guy who wants a date with you
But I don’t know how to ask out of the blue
I’ve been nervous since we work together
But I’ve wanted to ask you out pretty much forever
I’m done keeping up this friendship façade
Because guess what? My name is Todd.
I stare at the card and read it again, and then I read it again and again as I try to reconcile what I’m reading with the thought that my Sec
ret Santa wasn’t just Brit all along.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, and Brittany leans over me and reads my card.
I look up at her, and her eyes widen when they meet mine. “Todd is yours?”
I lift a shoulder, still not sure this is computing in my brain. “It looks like it.”
She grins at me. “Totally meant to be.”
“And he wants to ask me out on a date?” I gush. “Is he even kidding? Of course I’ll go out on a date with him! He’s only the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on in my entire life!”
“You really think so?” a deep voice close to my ear asks.
My heart stops beating for a second. Just literally stops.
My cheeks flush as I close my eyes. I can’t believe he heard me say that. I want to disappear...and yet...
He made it clear on his cards this week and tonight that he’s interested. Is it really so bad that he knows I think he’s hot?
“Because I’m incredibly attracted to you, and I’m also very interested to know what you meant by this.” He holds up the card that I printed, and it’s not the card I thought I attached to the gift.
All the blood that just rushed into my cheeks? Yeah, it all drains right out of my face. I feel a little buzz in my head and I think I might pass out.
I thought I gave him the card that said:
Todd,
I’m your Secret Santa! Wishing you a very Merry Christmas and an amazing new year.
Ellie Nolan.
That’s the nice, tame one. The friendly one.
Not the raunchy one he’s holding out to me.
Todd,
I’ve had a crush on you since I first met you. I’d love to take this opportunity to drink some dark beer with you, let you ride my water slide, and maybe enjoy some maple donuts when we wake up.
Xoxo,
Ellie
“What, exactly, is your water slide?” he asks.
Oh sweet baby Jesus. I want to ducking die.
“I, um...” I stammer. I cover my eyes with my hand as he slides into Belinda’s vacated chair beside me. “You weren’t supposed to see that card.”
He laughs.
“I just thought I could change your mind about water slides,” I mutter.
“Well if it’s yours...” he says, trailing off. He pulls my hand from over my eyes. “Hey, thanks for everything this week. Your gifts were incredibly thoughtful and totally original.”
I’m grateful for his change of subject as I laugh. “Not that original since you got me the same thing I got you.”
He chuckles. “The man box is awesome, and somehow it pairs exactly with what I got you. This is probably a terrible idea since we work together, but what would you say if I invited you over to my place tomorrow night for dark beer, wine, popcorn, and maybe Fight Club?”
“Change it to Die Hard and you’ve got yourself a date.”
“Deal,” he says, and he sticks out his hand. I giggle as I set mine in his to shake on it, but the laughter ceases pretty quickly when our hands touch. Electricity passes between us, and if hand on hand gives me that reaction, I can’t wait to see what lip on lip (or, even better, body on body) might do.
Guess there’s a chance I’ll find out tomorrow night when friends might turn into something else.
Chapter Five
I’m nervous as I drive over to Todd’s place, and it’s not because of the weather. He texted his address to me this morning, and I spent hours this afternoon on both Zillow and Google Earth stalking him...I mean looking up where he lives so I don’t get lost.
His place is literally two miles from mine. I could have walked, but it’s twenty-four degrees and snowing.
Even if it was seventy and balmy, I wouldn’t have.
We agreed on eight, so I spent the day prepping. Before I left, I tossed a little overnight bag in my car as a just in case, which I’ll leave there unless he invites me to stay the night. I also brought my woman box along even though I was tempted to eat the popcorn all day.
I hate driving in the snow, and even worse is when I have to parallel park on the street in front of his swanky rowhouse. I get out of the car and step right into a puddle of slush, naturally, and then I have to wrestle with the woman box to get it out of my backseat. By the time I slip and slide up his steps to ring his bell, I’m panting and afraid I might tumble right down the stairs from the patch of ice I’m standing on.
He opens the door, and somehow that just makes everything okay. The rush of heat from inside has nothing on how freaking hot he looks. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, so casual compared to his typical work style of black pants and a collared shirt, and he’s wearing socks with no shoes. There’s something sexy about that. He looks relaxed as he reaches out a hand to take the box from me and help me in, and his easy demeanor calms the nerves that’ve been quaking inside me both from the drive in the snow and the thought of what this night could mean for us.
I step inside, and he motions to follow him in. I look around at the house I already saw on Zillow. It looks different in person. He painted since he moved in, obviously, and the décor is both simple and masculine. Everything is dark wood and dark colors, with the occasional surprise pop of Cubbie blue.
We walk through the entry toward the kitchen, where he sets my box on the counter, and I glance over into the family room. Die Hard is already pulled up on the television. He has a stack of empty bowls set out for our popcorn, a Cubs pint glass, a wineglass, and a corkscrew. A fire crackles in the fireplace beneath the television, a blanket rests on one side of the couch, and all in all it looks like he thought of everything.
“So this is what Todd’s house is like,” I murmur as I shimmy out of my coat. He holds out a hand to take it, and he drapes it over one of the kitchen chairs to dry. I set the gloves, hat, and scarf on top of it, take my shoes off, and look up at him. He’s smiling at me.
“I like that you wore those,” he says, nodding to the winter gear he gave me, and then he takes a tentative step toward me. “Can I ask you a question?”
I nod, the nerves suddenly back again.
“Was what you said on your card true?”
My brows dip. “That you could ride my water slide?” Is that really where he wants to start this conversation? Maybe he isn’t the Prince Charming I thought he was.
He chuckles. “No, the first part. That you’ve had a crush on me since you met me.”
“Oh!” I say, my cheeks flaming. “Yeah. Definitely true.” I pat the hat I just set on top of my coat as I try to find something to do with my hands so I don’t start wringing them together.
He leans back on his counter like we’re not having the most awkward conversation about how cute I think he is. “The feeling’s mutual.”
I glance up at him.
“It’s more than a crush, though, Ellie. I have real feelings for you. I’ve learned in the past it’s not a good idea to get involved with colleagues, but I can’t keep denying what I want.”
The fire crackles loudly, a nice metaphor for what’s brewing between us. He has real feelings for me? Suddenly I feel like we’ve wasted a whole lot of time...especially because I don’t particularly subscribe to the no-colleague rule. If anything, it just makes the workplace that much more fun. “What, exactly, do you want?” I ask softly.
He takes a step toward me, and then another, and then he’s close enough that we can reach out for one another, but neither of us makes that move just yet.
“To ride your water slide.”
I giggle, and then he reaches for me. I rush into his arms, and suddenly I’m very much home. His embrace is warm and inviting, and I tilt my head back because I really just want to make every single one of my dreams come true tonight, and it starts with his arms around me and his lips on mine.
When they move down to meet mine, they certainly don’t disappoint. Sometimes friends turn into something more and it’s awkward at first...but that is not the case here. At all. I’m feeling zero awkwardness
as he kisses me. I’m just feeling hot and needy.
Those Prince Charming lips are soft and firm, and he opens his mouth to mine, his minty tongue brushing against my own. He kisses me confidently, sensually, and yet there’s a sweet factor there, too, as he moves slowly with me. He holds me in his arms, and this feels like a perfect start to our first date.
And if he kisses like this, well, I can’t wait to see what the end of the date will bring, if you know what I mean. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.
He slows the kiss first before pulling away.
I smile even though I didn’t want him to stop, but I feel like he’s doing it to be a gentleman. We’re going to have a date first, and then we’ll get to the good stuff.
He helps me choose a bottle of wine, I help him choose a dark beer, and we head to the family room with the popcorn. We put an assortment in different bowls, and he picks one up. We sit beside one another on his couch, our thighs touching, and we share popcorn as we start the movie.
And as soon as he presses play on the movie, we start talking rather than paying attention to what’s on the screen.
“Are you into these kinds of action movies?” he asks.
“Sure. I mean I prefer a rom com, but I’ll take some old school Bruce any day. You?”
“Definitely action over rom com. Sorry.”
I roll my eyes. “Such a typical guy.”
“To add to the stereotypes, I also like beer, working out, and sports,” he says.
“Okay, so tell me something that’s not stereotypically manly about you,” I challenge.
He stares at me for a second like he’s debating how much to reveal on this first date of ours, and then he grins. “I get monthly facials.”