I didn’t even have to think about it. “I’m sure.”
Troy ordered his battery, and we quickly left the store after that. “Do you have anywhere you need to go before I drop you off?”
“Well, I do have one thing I really wanted to get done this weekend, but I don’t feel right asking you.”
I shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything else going on, so I’ll be more than happy to help you. What is it?”
“I need to go pick out my Christmas tree.”
Fuck me. Yeah, I was more than happy to help him run errands…but I wasn’t expecting it to be that. And there was no way I could back out of it now! He was already hesitant to ask for help at all.
Great, just fucking great. It looked like I was going…Christmas tree shopping. Fuck. My. Life.
Chapter 5
Damn Christmas tree. Damn Christmas tree. You’re killing my allergies.
A real tree. Of course, Troy would get a real tree. It couldn’t be an artificial one that came in a box with lights already wrapped around it. Nope, it was one that had pine needles and sap and would scratch the top of my car and poke my hands while we tied the bitch down. A real tree. Damn it.
But I’d committed to helping him until he got a battery, and that included a godforsaken trip to a tree lot. As someone who suffered greatly from allergies, the minute the tree sap and scent of pine needles hit my nose, my eyes watered, and my throat got scratchy as I held back as many obnoxious sneezes as possible.
“Oh no, are you allergic to trees?” Troy asked as we walked slowly around the lot.
Yes, we had to walk around the lot. It wasn’t like we could just walk in, grab a tree, and leave. No, Troy explained he had to look until he found the one—whatever that meant.
“It can’t be too big, because of limited space, but not too small either. It has to be just right,” he explained.
“Nah, just allergies. I’ll be fine,” I denied past a sniffle before sneezing again.
“We can leave, and I’ll see if a neighbor can bring me?”
I waved him off. “We’re here, already. Let’s find your perfect tree.”
The lot was much bigger than I’d first thought it was. From the street, it looked like it was only a few rows of perfectly lined up trees, but after stepping inside, I realized how deep the rows went. There had to have been hundreds of different types of trees lined up in the rows, and each one emanated a different scent. How was Troy going to decide?
“You don’t like artificial trees?” I asked as he paused to look at a tree that was labeled Douglas Fir.
Troy looked at me as if I sprouted a second nose, a third eye, and I’d just asked the most appalling question ever. “Absolutely not. Part of the joy of Christmas is the scent.”
“The scent?” I asked, not at all convinced, even if he did sound passionate with his answer.
“Yes! Christmas is filled with so many smells. Hot chocolate, peppermint, cloves, and Christmas trees. You can’t replicate that smell artificially.”
He did have a slight point. Every scent he listed off did remind me of Christmas, which was why I avoided them any time it was possible.
“But don’t the trees get messy?” I asked—still not swayed.
“They’re supposed to get messy. That’s part of the experience of Christmas.”
“If you say so.”
Christmas brought nothing for me but bad memories I’d rather not think about and excessive sneezing.
“I do,” he said and pursed his lips to stare at another tree. “Come on. I think I’m getting close to finding my tree. Then we can get out of here so your allergies can take a break.”
“Sounds good to me.”
It took another twenty minutes or so, but Troy finally settled on a tree. It was a Frasier Fir, and I noticed that the cone-shaped tree was more of a yellow-green color. The tree was shorter, plump, and the associate assured Troy that the branches were sturdy enough to hold plenty of ornaments. I wasn’t sure what all that meant, but I just hoped sturdy branches didn’t mean the tree would be heavy to carry. At least the scent was pleasant and didn’t smell too terrible.
“Thank goodness I’m on the second floor,” Troy sighed once we were back inside my car.
The trek around the tree lot had been a chilly one, and both of us were frozen as we waited for the car to heat up. The associates were nice enough to tie the tree to the top of my car, and Troy even paid extra for a blanket to keep from scratching the roof.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s going to suck bad enough to drag it up one flight of steps, I can’t imagine two.”
I chuckled. “The stairs might make it easier. And I can help you haul it to your apartment. And before you say I don’t have to help, that I’ve done enough, don’t bother. It’ll be fine. Just don’t ask me to help decorate.”
Troy scoffed. “As if I’d ask someone to help me decorate my tree. I’m very meticulous.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
Hauling the tree up the stairs was much easier than I’d originally thought it’d be. The needles only scratched a little bit, the scent wasn’t too pungent that it murdered my allergies, and the sturdy branches weren’t too heavy. With Troy and I both doing the heavy lifting, we made it up the stairs without any incident. It took some maneuvering and me bearing more of the weight while Troy unlocked his door, and then we were able to carry the tree through his small apartment and balance it against the wall.
“I know you’ve done more than your fair share, but can you stay long enough to help me get it in the stand?”
I shrugged. Not like I had anything else to do. “Sure.”
“Great, thank you!”
Troy disappeared out of the room—leaving me alone with the tree—and I heard his soft footfalls as he walked down the hallway, before a door opened. I took the time to glance around the living room and took in the black, leather furniture, the flat-screen television on a stand against one wall, and a tall floor lamp in the corner. A recliner that looked a bit worn was positioned beside the couch, and a small table was situated beside that’d had a dirty mug and remote controls. A glass coffee table was in the center of the room, and in the center was a nativity scene, and Christmas lights were strung around the window that overlooked the parking lot. Pictures were hung on the walls with people I could only guess were his family, and on the wall was a sign that said: Santa, stop here.
“Found it!” Troy announced as he stepped back into the room.
“For someone who’s so into Christmas, I expected you to have a lot more decorations.”
Troy laughed. “There will be a lot more this weekend. I just haven’t had much time until then.”
“Why are you waiting so close to the holiday to decorate?” I asked as he set the stand on the floor.
“I keep it up until after the new year, so I’ll be able to enjoy it.”
I shook my head, but he was too busy positioning the stand to notice. It wasn’t unheard of for people to keep decorations up until after the new year, hell I’ve seen them up until the Fourth of July, but damn, who would want to subject themselves to such torture?
“Okay, it’s ready, so let’s get her standing.”
“Her?”
“Yes, something tells me she’s a girl.”
“But, it’s a Frasier fir,” I reminded him.
“So? She’s a girl, and I’m naming her Francie.”
“Francie the Frasier Fir?” I quipped. “That’s quite a mouthful.”
Troy grinned at me. “It is, but it’s a lot of fun to say, isn’t it?”
“I mean, I guess so?”
After some finagling and me holding the tree upright, Troy was able to get the trunk screwed into the stand, and soon she was standing on her own. The fact I referred to the tree as she was not lost to me, but considering how Troy kept calling it her or Francie, how could I not?
“She looks beautiful!” Troy gasped when we stood back
to look at our handiwork. Well, Troy admired it, I just was glad it was finished.
“It looks great.”
“Thanks for all your help today. I’d like to make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” I protested. “I told you, it was no problem.”
“But still. Since you won’t accept gas money, how about I make you dinner?”
I cocked my head to the side as I thought about his invitation. Did I really want to spend more time with this guy? But then again, what was my alternative? Eating a microwavable meal in my empty apartment? The latter was definitely more dismal than spending time with an attractive Christmas fanatic.
“Sure, that’d be great.”
“Perfect. Come by tomorrow at six?”
“I’ll be here,” I told him before bidding him goodbye and exiting his apartment.
While I was sure he went to work decorating the tree, I went to my own apartment where I went through the same motions of what I’d done the night before, and the ones before that: I popped in a meal and got to work on my homework.
But when I laid my head down on my pillow many hours later, I couldn’t help but notice the typical pain that came with this time of year wasn’t as apparent. Maybe I was finally coming to terms with everything, or maybe, just maybe it had something to do with the auburn-haired Christmas lover. Whatever the reason, I was glad. And if I were being honest with myself, I was looking forward to tomorrow.
Chapter 6
Gaudy bells. Gaudy bells. I don’t know what they have to do with Christmas…
I was anticipating going to Troy’s for dinner, but thankfully catching up on homework helped keep me busy during the day. Otherwise, I knew the hours would tick by slowly, and I’d find every excuse possible to talk myself out of going.
But by the time the clock struck five-thirty, I was a nervous wreck. What was I thinking accepting his dinner invitation? I barely knew the guy. He started working there earlier that year, and except for recently, he and I barely had any interaction. But yet, during the car rides we’d shared to work, and even the damn Christmas tree shopping, I enjoyed his company—Christmas lover or not. Plus, there was the issue of not knowing what to freaking wear.
Did I go casual with jeans and a t-shirt? Or did I jazz it up a bit with a nice button-down? What the hell did someone do in this type of situation? It was only a dinner to say thanks for all the help, but I still felt out of my element—something I loathed. I was overthinking something that didn’t need hardly any thought at all. It was only dinner for crying out loud, so I needed to just get dressed and put an end to the nonsense.
“Fuck it,” I muttered as I marched down the short hallway to my bedroom and flung the closet door open. Dramatic much? Probably. But I felt like it was needed since I was acting like an awkward teenager going on his first date. And I was anything but awkward, so it needed to stop.
Grabbing the first shirt my eyes landed on—a hunter-green, long-sleeved shirt—and a pair of jeans, I quickly changed into them. My hair was another story. It seemed to have a mind of its own since it was wild and curly. I tried to keep my curls cropped close to my head, but I was in need of a haircut, so they weren’t as tame as they could be. Walking into the bathroom, I saw the way my curls looked, wild and a bit all over the place, but after attempting to soothe the beasts with some hair-product, I shrugged.
“Oh well. I tried,” I told my reflection as I eyed it critically. That was as good as it was going to get, so I hoped Troy was ready for me.
Grabbing my phone, I looked down at the display and saw I still had a few minutes before I needed to be at Troy’s apartment, and an entirely new wave of questions hit me. Did I go early? Go over there and sit in the parking lot until it was time? Should I have picked up something at the store to bring with me? A dessert? Wine? Then I realized what I was doing and forced my mind to just shut the fuck up.
“What is wrong with me?” I sighed as I flopped down on the couch with a groan. “I’m acting like a freaking idiot.”
It wasn’t like I’d never been to someone else’s house for dinner before, including an attractive man’s. Besides, Troy could be dating someone for all I knew.
Then why didn’t his partner take him to and from work, or pick out a Christmas tree? My mind sure was an asshole and liked to ask questions I didn’t have answers to.
“Maybe they were busy,” I growled. Great, now I was having conversations with myself. Was I losing my fucking mind? Maybe it was the holiday, and all the bad memories it conjured up that was to blame.
Besides, even if Troy were single, he could be straight, and the dinner really was just a way to tell me thank you.
“Enough of this,” I sighed out loud. “I’m acting like a jackass.”
I’d wasted plenty of time stalling, and even I was getting tired of my own company. It was time to go to Troy’s for a dinner I was sure was going to be as awkward as I anticipated it to be.
“Do you need help with anything?” I asked for probably the third time since I’d arrived—ten minutes ago.
But I felt awkward sitting on the couch while Troy worked hard in the small kitchen.
“Not a chance. I love to cook. You just enjoy the decorations while you wait.”
Enjoy the decorations? Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen at all. Every available space in his apartment had some sort of Christmas décor. The island that separated the kitchen from the dining room held a scrawny tree replica from the show Charlie Brown. There were more lights strung around the sliding-glass door. Every available surface had either a tiny tree, another nativity scene, or festive snow globes. Hell, there were even festive plug-ins coming from the outlets in the walls. But it was the tree that was a real showstopper, and the delicious scents coming from the kitchen masked the ones coming from it.
It was a good thing he got the one with the sturdiest branches, considering there were so many ornaments I couldn’t even see the natural color of the tree. Various colors burst from the brightly colored baubles—greens, blues, reds, gold, silver, pink, and even white. The lights were brightly colored, and different shades flashed at certain times, and on the very top sat the biggest, brightest star I’d ever seen. It should’ve been gaudy, but it wasn’t. It was tastefully done and, okay I’ll admit it, actually kind of pretty.
I stoop and slowly wandered around the room and eyed a nutcracker as I walked past. I could’ve sworn the creepy looking soldier with the big teeth was staring at me, and I had to fight the urge to turn it around, so it was facing the wall instead of me. Walking over to the small collection of snow globes that were placed on a side-table, I ran my fingers over the glass as I looked at all the different scenes. Kids sledding down a hill, an old church with a star on the steeple, a nativity scene, Mr. and Mrs. Claus with rosy cheeks, but the one that caught my attention was a child staring at a Christmas tree.
As if moving on autopilot, I reached out and wrapped my hand around the faux-wooden base of the snow globe. It was much heavier than I thought it’d be, so I tightened my grip as I flipped it over and gave it a slight shake. I could see the water slosh around inside as I straightened the globe, and then watched as the snow started to fall around the tree and child. It was almost mesmerizing, and when the snow started to settle, rather than put the globe back, I shook it again.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Troy called out, startling me so I almost dropped the damn thing, “I kind of made too much food.”
“I’m always hungry,” I replied, not taking my eyes off the globe.
Giving it one final shake, I put the globe back on the table and walked over to the couch to sit back down. But as I tried to relax, I could feel eyes watching me. It was that fucking nutcracker, and the fact I could feel its eyes on me had my skin crawling. The longer I sat there, the more unnerved I felt until I couldn’t take it anymore. I jackknifed to my feet, and with a few wide strides, I was back at the table.
“Sorry, man, but you’re creeping me
out,” I muttered to the creepy thing, before I quickly flipped the thing around, so his eyes were facing the opposite direction.
“Okay, I think everything is ready,” Troy said from the kitchen.
“Great. It sure smells good.”
“I hope it is. It’s my first time trying this recipe.”
“Oh, I do love being a guinea pig,” I said sardonically as I went to the kitchen.
Troy snickered. “I figured.”
A few minutes later, our plates were loaded down with pizza casserole and garlic bread. Troy even went as far as to make a side salad with croutons, shredded cheese, and Italian dressing. As we sat down in the living room with our plates and glasses of soda, I lifted my plate and sniffed appreciatively.
“It’s not wine. You don’t have to smell it before you taste it,” Troy said wryly.
“Sure, you do. It’s part of the experience.”
Troy shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it. I just hope it doesn’t taste bad. It’s unnerving to have someone eat a meal I’ve cooked.”
I had a fork full of the casserole halfway to my mouth when his words stopped me. “Then why did you offer to cook me dinner?”
“Because you’ve done so much for me over these last few days, including helping me with the tree when it’s obvious you don’t like Christmas, so I knew it was the least I could do.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t owe me anything? I didn’t mind helping, and you didn’t have to go to so much trouble to make me a meal. We could’ve ordered pizza or something.”
“That seems too impersonal. And even though you’ve told me that I don’t need to thank you, I wanted to, okay? So, I’ll just cross my fingers and pray this dinner doesn’t taste like shit.”
Rather than say anything else, I made a big showing of opening my mouth as wide as possible before shoving the bite of casserole into my mouth. I keep my face stoic as I chewed as thoroughly as possible, and I watched as Troy’s face grew grimmer with each passing second. Was it mean of me to keep him in suspense? Probably. Did I care? Not really. I was having too much fun.
Bite Me, Santa Page 3