by R. Holmes
On Friday, there’s a holiday bazaar in the town square. Hollyridge is as charming as ever, and I’ve been happily snapping away and adding to the Alpine’s Instagram story in short bursts all afternoon on my breaks from the sponsored booth I bought in a prime spot across from the bakery. As customers spill out, they have a direct line of sight to Riley and I dressed in hilarious ugly Christmas sweaters.
It works like a charm to draw in the tourists wanting a picture of us for their social media memories.
“These were such a good idea,” I tell her, grabbing another selfie of us for the Alpine’s Facebook page. “Thanks for doing this with me.”
Riley’s sweater is green with actual stuffed reindeer sticking out from random spots. She wanted to put two red-nosed Rudolph plushies protruding from her tits, but I vetoed in favor of keeping it family friendly until later, when we have a staff party. My sweater is Grinch-themed after my favorite movie in a hideous color with a fuzzy fur collar going on, complete with a matching Max the dog purse. It lights up and sings the tune to the Grinch’s theme song when I press a hidden button in the hem.
“I wouldn’t leave my girl alone. You’re still getting to know everyone in town. Besides, there was no way I was missing you strutting your stuff in that hideous sweater. It’s hilarious,” Riley says. “You’re so cute, but the sweater is so, so ugly.”
“That’s the idea!” If I were an emoji, right now I’d be that purple smirking devil in my self-satisfaction. “Make it so they can’t look away.”
Riley’s attention drifts around the decorated stalls and booths. “Oh, look. See that? That’s Ella. I bet she’s here for the parade with Finn. She’s always all over him.”
“Well, she can have him. Hi!” I greet a young couple passing by. It takes effort to push Finn from my mind and inject the necessary amount of warmth and excitement into my voice. Once I have their attention, they come over to grab a cookie from our plate. We have brownies to pull out next, keeping people stopping by with different treats every hour for the chance to win a golden ticket inside for a free night at the resort. “Try one. Are you having fun?”
As if Riley summoned him with gossip, I catch sight of Finn over the young couple’s shoulders, missing their answer. A sigh leaves me before I can stop it. Our eyes meet and it’s like the whole crowded square disappears for a few tense seconds.
Finn has a burgundy Mayberry Inn hoodie on with dark jeans and his rugged beat up boots. It’s unfair how attractive he is. Riley wasn’t kidding about his heartthrob status in Hollyridge, either. He’s pulling plenty of attention as he leads Saint Nick through the crowd. Kids and tourists flock to him to pet the donkey dressed as a reindeer, who loves the fawning fans.
When they’re close to our booth, he stops. Saint Nick leans in, nostrils working when he catches a whiff of the cookies.
“Not for you, buddy,” Finn murmurs, redirecting Saint Nick away from the sugary treats. He surveys us and the table. “Of course you’d be here.”
“Yup.” I pop the p, then offer him the plate. “Want a chance to win a golden ticket?”
“What’s the prize?”
“A free night at our luxury mountain resort. Stay in style.”
He scoffs, head jerking slightly. “Yeah, no.”
As he turns away, I stop him. The temptation was hard enough to resist before, but now it’s impossible. “Can I pet Saint?”
I swallow at the astonished look he gives me when he turns back. Apprehension zips up my spine. Is he going to refuse my request? I lick my lips and step out from the booth.
“You want to pet Saint?” he repeats.
“Yes.” My hopeful gaze bounces from him to the donkey. “Please.”
Finn is stunned silent. He shrugs and nods. As soon as I have permission, a muffled excited squeal shakes my whole body. I take another step closer, holding out my palm to the donkey.
“Hi, Saint.” I beam as his velvet-soft nose pushes into my hand. “Oh my god,” I whisper in a strangled voice. “So soft.” As the donkey bumps against my palm, licking it, I laugh in delight. “He likes me!”
Being accepted by a donkey might be the usual to someone like Finn, but it makes tears prick my eyes. I probably look crazy, eyes glistening because I’m stroking a donkey dressed as a reindeer, but it makes warm joy pour into my heart. I think I get why the Grinch was amazed when he felt his heart grow three sizes. This feels just like that.
Finn watches with a strange expression. Without the anger, it does funny things to my chest, igniting butterflies. At last he mutters, “Saint, you’re a traitor.”
It doesn’t hold any heat. He allows me to keep petting his donkey for a few more minutes.
“Well, I’ve got to…” Finn nods his head to a red sleigh with the Mayberry logo on the side painted in gold. “Saint Nick is the resident reindeer, after all. He needs to pull the sleigh.”
“Right. Okay.” I give the donkey one more scratch behind the ears and murmur to him for being a good boy. “Thanks.”
Once I return to my booth, my attention strays to Finn and his donkey-drawn sleigh more than once. Everytime I look at him, my stomach flips.
“Welcome to day one of Jingle Wars everyone! I am so glad everyone could make it out, and we are so excited to get the festivities going! Gather around Christmas fanatics, because this is a competition that you don't want to miss!” Cornelius Frost, the host, says into the microphone, addressing the crowd.
Once again I find myself on the stage decorated with more tinsel and garland than the entire town needs, shoved front and center between frosty and my icy enemy. Once again feeling like a show animal for the second time in less than two weeks. Even though fresh snow blankets the ground, I'm sweating like Heat Miser’s got me by the damn balls. My second time on this stage, and it's not any easier this time. If anything, I'm more fucking nervous knowing what's at stake. The reason I did this stupid competition in the first place.
The Mayberry.
I hate being up here in the spotlight, but as a contestant we’re required to be here on stage while they're kicking the show off. This year is a hell of a lot more over the top and everything has to be shown "camera ready" like a tried and true game show.
If that wasn't bad enough, of course Freya is standing directly across from me in another pair of UGG boots and a plush fur coat, looking every bit out of place as she has each time that I’ve seen her thus far. Princess isn’t used to snow and freezing ground, but one good time on her ass and she’ll change her tune from chic to sensible.
Women.
Her frigid gaze catches mine and she glares at me, shooting icicles directly my way. If looks could kill, I’d be dead on the spot. What's worse is she's even hotter when she's scowling. Shit.
Why does my traitorous enemy have to look so good in those damn furry boots?
"As you know, the first competition will not only test brawn, but your creativeness. Your own personalized touch on a tree that says everything about you and your Christmas spirit. You will be required to cut your own tree down, get it to the stage, and decorate it as the best darn Christmas tree this town has ever seen! Good luck to all of our competitors and may the jolliest one win!" Cornelius starts the giant clock that sits hauntingly in the middle of the stage.
Two hours and fifty nine minutes shows with the seconds ticking by slowly. I'm not wasting one of those seconds and giving Freya the chance to get a one up on me.
Can't wait to see how her tiny ass plans on dragging a whole ass tree out of the forest.
I, unlike, my sworn enemy, came dressed and prepared for today's competition. Sensible and smart.
Long johns, jeans, heavy duty work boots, a thick thermal jacket with work gloves and a hat that provides warmth. Ugly as sin, but it works better than some name brand designer shit that looks good and doesn't warm my ass.
Freya prances down from the stage in her matching furry pom pom beanie and gloves, and heads back behind the stage, only stopping to grab the bag provided by the ho
sts to actually cut the tree down. They didn't want anyone saying that someone cheated or had unfair advantage, so they provided the tools. Which, I don't mind much because a bow saw is a bow saw. But, one thing I have that Miss Princess doesn't?
Grams.
She and I spent half the night buried in boxes and boxes of Christmas shit, picking out the perfect ornaments, the best tinsel, and a tree topper that will steal the show all on it's own. Grams is the Christmas angel of Hollyridge and no one, even Freya, can compete with that. She's my secret weapon.
I make my way into the forest with my bag of tools and start searching for the perfect tree. I know they'll judge it on fullness, height, and how fresh the leaves are on top of how we put our flair on the tree. Just like anyone would when they cut down a tree for their house, and I’m betting Freya won't know that since all she knows are sunny beaches and margaritas.
Matter of fact, I'm counting on it.
There are a few contestants walking around, checking trees out. I see Mr. Nelson from the hardware store, dressed in his signature overalls and bright red ear muffs. Never seen him without them. Ella's here too, dragging a guy behind her that I haven't seen before but hell, I'm not getting close enough to ask questions. She almost broke her neck trying to wave at me earlier today, but I pretended I didn't see her.
Crisis number one of the day averted.
The fresh, fluffy snow that blankets the forest floor crunches beneath my boots as I move deeper into the woods. There are plenty of trees that I pass that look "okay", but none of them are what is going to win me this competition and I'm not stopping until I find the one.
I walk further and further into the trees until the voices fade out behind me. The temperature begins to drop, the farther I walk into the forest where the trees thicken and begin to block out some of the sun. My breath forms a cloud in front of me as I walk and there, right in front of me, I see the tree that will win it all. It's over six feet tall, thick and full, with healthy green needles.
I hear a high-pitched squeak behind me, and then I'm pushed forcefully out of the way as Freya darts past me, making a beeline for the tree that I just picked out.
"Oh hell no!" I cry and take off after her, and just before she makes it to the tree, my arms circle her waist and I pull her back against me. I wasn't expecting her to come so freely and we both topple to a tangled pile on the snowy forest floor. Her tight little body is perched perfectly on top of mine and I feel my dick come to life between us.
Fuck, I hope she doesn't notice. Who gets hard from their smart mouth traitor of an enemy? Me, that's who.
Her cheeks are flushed red and I wonder if it's me or the cool air that's made them that way. I want to make her other cheeks pink as I spank her ass.
Shit, Finn, cut it out. She was just trying to steal your tree. Stop getting distracted.
That's probably her game plan, to distract me with her ass and lure me in like the true siren she is.
"Finn, let me up!" she complains, trying and failing to escape my hold. My arms are still wrapped around her tightly.
"So that's how it's going to be then? You’re going to cheat your way to the top?" I can see the delicate pulse of her throat pound as her breath quickens. Only then do I realize how close she is to my face. Her pink, pouty lips are just a breath away from mine.
If I was going to kiss her, if I wanted to kiss her, I could do so with barely moving. I could capture her lips in a kiss that would sear us both with the heat. But I don't kiss liars, cheaters, or people who want to steal my livelihood, so that won't be happening. My grip on her waist loosens and she wiggles against me trying to sit up. My dick is so hard against my jeans, she had to have felt it digging into her and the incessant wiggling she'd doing does nothing but make me strain harder against my waistband.
"I didn't cheat!" she exclaims, finally untangling herself from me when our trance is broken.
Her hair is mussed from our hands on scuffle, and her ridiculous pompom beanie is nowhere to be found. She looks ready to explode from anger or frustration, and that serves her right, since I'm feeling the same, just in a very different way.
"Looks that way to me." I brush the snow and leaves off of my jeans as I stand. My ass is completely soaking wet, along with my back after laying in the freezing ass snow.
"You're such a child. You can't claim a tree from a hundred yards away, Finn. I saw it before you did anyway, which automatically makes it mine." She smirks. "Now, if you'll excuse me I've got a tree to chop down. See ya!"
This girl will be the death of me. I'm two seconds from having a damn coronary.
"No." I jog over and stand in front of her, in front of MY tree, blocking her from touching it. I fold my arms across my chest and tell her, “You are not cutting my tree down."
A look crosses across her face that I can only describe as utter determination and then it's gone, like it never happened. She shrugs nonchalantly. "Fine, it's an ugly tree anyway."
Turning on her heel she starts back towards town. I sigh heavily. I never wanted to join this damn competition to begin with, and now that this infuriating woman is involved, I want to be here even less. If it wasn't for my family, I would've told her to kiss my ass. Even though it's really her ass I'd rather be kissing, but she'll never know that.
Before I can even blink, she turns around and sprints at me full speed, tackling me like a fucking linebacker and almost knocks me clear off my feet. I'm so shocked that she just sumo wrestled me that I lose my footing and am on my back once more, with her sitting on top of me. But this time, it feels intense. Like all of the fresh forest air around us has been sucked out. The warm apex between her thighs is pressed tightly against me and I stifle a groan.
She leans in closer, whispering, "Listen here, Finn Mayberry. You can have this damn tree. But let's be clear, it's because I'm letting you have it. Not because it was yours first. Because I'm a strong, independent woman and I don't need to lie or steal my way to win this competition. I'm going to win it fair and square, and when you lose you're going to tell me you're sorry for being such an asshole and trying to sabotage me."
"Sabotage you? You are insane. I didn't sabotage anything!" I exclaim, sitting up on my elbows abruptly, causing friction against my dick and this time I do groan out loud. I bring my hand to her neck and slide it against her smooth, warm skin until it's wrapped around her nape, then pull her to me until she's a centimeter from my lips.
"Don't think for one second that I'm letting you win, Traitor. No matter how much of a fit you throw. That won't work here, not with me, not in Hollyridge."
She swallows, and her little pink tongue darts out to wet her lips. Her pupils dilate, and I know she's feeling every bit of what I’m feeling, plus some. I read her body and everything it tells me.
"This is my town. We're playing this by my rules and you might not realize it yet, but you will." I ever so slightly brush my lips against her, a mere whisper against her lips and a shudder racks her body.
I remove her from my lap abruptly and stand, offering her my back while I adjust myself so it isn't completely obvious that while I may hate her, my dick sure doesn't.
When I turn back, she's on her feet, heading back in the direction she came.
Finn: 1
Freya: 0
With so much time wasted, I get straight to work cutting the tree down, and netting it. One way to make my trek back to town square easier. I wasn't going to drag the tree and let it get destroyed in my walk back, I was going to hoist the entire damn thing on my shoulder and carry it back. Even for me at six two, that was no easy feat. By the time I make it out of the forest and to the grassy area that's designated for the remainder of the competition I'm sweating and sore. My shoulder has a permanent crick from carrying that heavy damn tree for so long.
There are only a handful of people that have made it back and put their tree in its stand, and even less who have started to decorate so I feel a small sense of pride that I was able to make it back on
good time, even after the she-devil tried so hard to make me lose.
I waste no more time watching the competition and begin setting the tree up, just like Grams told me. When I bend down to tighten the bolts at the base of the tree stand I see Freya make her way out of the edge of the forest. Her hair is standing in all directions, there are small sticks and leaves sticking out of it and maybe even a damn critter by the size of the rat’s nest that's poking out the side. She's dragging a tree that's twice her size behind her and I'll be damned, I'm sorta impressed. I can't believe she got that thing all the way out of the forest by herself. She makes sure to stick her tongue out at me like a damn child, but heads to her station and gets right to work.
I look back at my boxes and focus on finishing before the time runs out. Each and every ornament is packed with care and labeled with what is inside, so I won't waste time trying to figure out it's contents. Grams even included berries she got for me to hang and I lose myself in my task. Before I know it, the iconic Jingle Bell is sounding. It's over. No more time. And somehow, thankfully, I've just put the topper on and my tree is officially done, just as the bell has sounded.
"Alright folks, time is up!" Cornelius says from the center of the stage, then walks down to where us contestants are still standing by our now decorated trees. I look around at the competition, and seeing everyone's hard work makes me just a bit nervous that I won't make the cut. Freya's standing in front of her tree wearing a bright smile. Damn it, it doesn't look half bad for an out of townie.
"The judges will deliberate for thirty minutes and choose our top three contestants! Feel free to look around at the local vendor booths and stop at The Coffee Spirit for a cup of hot coffee or cocoa!"
All of our audience disperses, visiting the tables and milling around while we wait. Apparently while we wait, Freya is going to ignore me and act like I don't exist, and that's perfectly fine with me. Not like I have anything to say to her anyways, not after what I said during our scuffle in the woods. I like seeing her off kilter, her hair disheveled, her makeup smudged. I can tell she spends so much time trying to perfect everything and what she needs is a hard dose of reality.