Hot for the Holidays (21 Holiday Short Stories): A Collection of Naughty and Nice Holiday Romances

by Anthology

  "Sharks," Sophie agrees, again.

  "Don’t you even say sharks, too, Drew. You never wear underwear and you’re always naked unless we’re in public - except for that one time at the fountain near campus. And, the time we went skinny dipping in my parent’s pool. Oh, and once at Target."

  "Target?" I question. "Nevermind, I don’t want to know. Someone else ask a question."

  Cara claps her hands together, excited for her turn. "I’ll go. Would you rather be shy but have a really big package, or outgoing but have a really small one?"

  "Okay, game over." I turn up the volume on the radio, loud enough to block out the chatter from the back seat since the last thing I want to do is discuss my junk with my sister.

  Sophie reaches for my hand, linking her fingers with mine. "Sorry, the game sounded like a good idea at the time."

  "It’s not your fault they’re a bunch of animals."

  Sophie pulls her shirt sleeves over her hands, tucking her knees up to her chest. "Are you cold?"

  "I’m okay. Just thinking."

  "About?"

  "What it’ll be like to see the ball drop in the city. I still can’t believe you planned all of this."

  This is why I love her so much. Nothing we do is taken for granted. She expects nothing, is content with very little, but appreciates everything.

  "Taking you to the center of Montgomery to watch fireworks would have been great, but it wouldn’t compare to this. Plus, you’ve said how much you would love to see the City at Christmas time."

  "I did say that, but I would’ve had fun anywhere. I don’t want you to think you have to do expensive things to show me you care. I’ve never had a lot, so I don’t expect it now."

  Our trip has nothing to do with her past and everything to do with our future. "This is our first New Year’s together, Sophie, and I want to do it big. Plus, who knows what the next year will bring. We may never get the chance to pick up and take a road trip like this again."

  "I don’t like the sound of that." She wraps her arms around her knees, scrunching into an even smaller ball of gorgeousness.

  "I just mean we’ll be busy – that’s all."

  "That doesn’t sound any better."

  None of this is coming out the way I wanted it to. "What I’m trying to say is, we’re young, we’re free, and we can do whatever we want. Now’s the time to do it - before we have careers tying us down, schedules we can’t control, and more bills than we know what to do with."

  She shrugs her shoulders, almost dismissively. Like the idea of becoming full-fledged adults is comforting instead of terrifying. "I wouldn’t mind as long as we’re doing it together."

  Coming from any other girl, the comment would freak me out. Hell, a year ago the idea of being with one girl for the rest of my life was laughable. Hindsight has taught me a thing or two, mostly that it wasn’t ever meant to work out with anyone other than Sophie. That’s why I’ve been on one hell of a roller coaster ride since I was a teenager.

  Now that I’m with the right girl, the idea of forever isn’t so scary. In fact, it’s appealing. Sophie took my desire to run out of the equation the day she walked into her dorm room wrapped in her fluffy, pink towel.

  It was the day I was ruined for all other women.

  Chapter Two

  Sophie

  What’s your favorite holiday memory?" Kipton asks, as we listen to my favorite Christmas song for the third time. "All I Want for Christmas" by Mariah Carey never gets old. In fact, the more I hear it, the more I want to hear it again. It’s as addicting as candy canes and hot chocolate on a cold winter night.

  "Sophie?"

  "Sorry." I know Kipton’s only making conversation, but he doesn’t realize what a loaded question he’s asking. When you have a past filled with as much turmoil as mine, even the good memories have an intense one lurking behind them.

  But there’s only one Christmas I can remember, so that’s the one I tell him about.

  "It was the last real holiday I had – when Christmas was still full of Santa Claus and his reindeer."

  Opening my eyes, I look around my bedroom. Red balloons cover every inch of the ceiling with long white strings hanging low enough for me to grab onto. Each one has "Merry Christmas" on it with a picture of Santa Claus.

  I yank on one of the strings, wrapping it around my hand before it can float back up to the ceiling. "Mommy!" I shout, as I skip toward my bedroom door, anxious to see what Santa left under the tree. I freeze when I spot the reindeer tracks on the hardwood floor. First one, then two, then three – there’s a ton of them.

  Following the trail, I take the stairs one by one until I’m almost at the bottom. That’s when I spot the pile of silver wrapping paper under the tree. My stocking’s laying on the floor in front of the presents, filled to the top. Candy’s spilling out onto the carpet, and I’m positive all my dreams are coming true. I haven’t opened a single present yet, but I already know the entire wish list I sent to the North Pole is laid out in front of me.

  This is the best Christmas ever.

  "Mommy, Daddy, where are you? Come see this." I’m too excited to sit down, so I jump around the room, hardly able to wait another minute. My feet are cold, but my slippers are upstairs, and I can’t take the time to go get them. Especially now that I’ve seen what’s waiting for me. I’m afraid if I walk away, it will all disappear.

  Finally, the creaking of the floor boards above me add life to the house. One by one, my parents file into the living room. They look more tired than usual, but it is early.

  "I need coffee, Victoria," Dad bellows from his recliner.

  Mom has her camera in her hands, already snapping pictures of me sitting next to the presents.

  "Victoria."

  She pauses when he speaks up a second time. Looking over her shoulder, she shakes her head at him, walking into the kitchen without ever responding to his demands.

  Neither of them are smiling. They don’t even seem happy that Santa was here. Suddenly, I feel like I made a bad choice by waking them up so early.

  "Open something, Sophie. Start with the big one resting against the wall."

  I want to dive into the present like I’m told, but I wait until Mom is back in the living room, watching me with a smile on her face.

  "Go ahead," she encourages. "I bet it’s a good one."

  "It looks super cool, and I don’t even know what it is yet!" I pull apart the paper piece by piece until I have a glimpse of the treasure inside. "I can’t believe it," I squeal. "My very own beam. It’s just like the ones on the floor at gymnastics."

  I run over to Mom, jumping into her lap. "Santa really heard me."

  "Of course he heard you, sweetie. You’ve been a very good girl this year."

  I believe her because I’m never in trouble. I always follow the rules so I can go to gymnastics. My room is kept clean, my chores are done as soon as I get them, and my homework is always perfect before I hand it in.

  Present after present, I’m more amazed than I was before. "Santa got everything," I say, in shock. "It’s all here."

  "Christmas was a dream come true, but there was a coldness in the room even I was old enough to feel. I couldn’t quite make sense of it, even when I tried. But back then, they were still hiding a lot from me. They wouldn’t even argue while I was in the same room. That didn’t last long, and the harder I tried to pretend my family wasn’t falling apart at the seams, the harder it became - especially when the drinking intensified."

  "What about the one after that?"

  "There weren’t any more. That was the last Christmas we had as a family."

  "Ever?"

  "Yeah, I didn’t know why back then, but my family started to spiral out of control. By the time Christmas rolled around the following year, I thought about running away."

  "You didn’t though, right?" It would kill me to find out she lived on the streets for even an hour. We didn’t even know each other back then, but I still feel guilty fo
r living such a good life when she had nothing.

  "No, Mom gave me hot chocolate after she rolled out of bed around noon. She dug out a few small presents she had hidden away in the back of her closet. That’s how I found out there was no Santa Claus. My letter was mailed the same way it was the year before, but there was nothing in the living room this time. We didn’t even have a tree."

  "I’m sorry, beautiful. Nobody should have to miss out on Christmas – especially as a kid."

  It’s taken me a long time and rounds of counseling to understand I wasn’t the problem. For years, I let the blame fall on my shoulders, especially because they were always fighting about me. I thought if I got straight A’s in school, and won every gymnastics meet, I’d make them proud enough to be happy again. I would color them pictures, taping them to the mirror, but they always went unnoticed. Sometimes I wished I was invisible - it might hurt less if I was.

  "I have you now, Kipton, and I’m not drifting closer and closer to hell anymore."

  "Sophie, I’d never let you fall. Please, tell me you know that."

  "I do. I didn’t tell you all this to make you feel like you were failing me. You’ve been the only one in my life to get it right. That Christmas isn’t my favorite memory anymore." She reaches over to hold my hand. "This one is. The one we’re creating right now."

  Chapter Three

  Sophie

  Cara sticks her head between the seats, startling the both of us. "Kippy, I have to pee like a racehorse. Can you pull over at the next rest stop?"

  Kipton exhales loud enough for everyone in the car to hear. "We just passed one. It might be a little while until there’s another."

  Cara groans like she’s in pain. "Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m about to die back here."

  He glances at me quickly, not wanting to take his eyes off the cars in front of him for too long. "Is she for real right now?"

  "I think so," I tell him, as I silently laugh.

  "Am I supposed to check with you, Cara, every single time we pass a hopper?"

  "A good brother would, Kippy."

  Kipton shakes his head, taking her comment with a grain of salt. We all know he’s one of the most giving people, helping anyone in need. In the eyes of his sister, he’s a protective big brother who’s always going to be there for her. She may give him a hard time, but it’s clear how much she loves him – even depends on him. They have the kind of relationship I’ve always wanted with a sibling - close in age and actual friends.

  I don’t want Kipton to stress, so I push the button on the navigation system, checking for the next rest stop. Cara’s not going to like what I have to say. "There isn’t another full service rest stop until we cross state lines in North Carolina, but there’s a gas station about five miles from here."

  Cara doesn’t even take a minute to contemplate the possibility of stopping. "A gas station? Seriously?" She sticks her foot between the seats, resting her boot on the center console. "These are brand new shoes."

  Drew grabs her leg, resting it on his leg. "What does a gas station have to do with your shoes?"

  Again, nothing but shock from Cara. "Have you seen the floors in a gas station let alone the toilet seat? You just don’t take those kind of chances."

  "Then you’re going to have to hold it," Kipton tells her. "Simple as that."

  "You’re being unfair, Kipton."

  Just as Cara finishes complaining, Kipton pulls into a dicey gas station. It’s the kind of place people go to in scary movies, and you yell at the screen, asking why they would even consider it when it looks so terrible. But they go anyway, and they act surprised when something goes wrong.

  "This is it?" I whisper.

  "This is it," Kipton repeats.

  There are only two gas pumps, and one’s labeled "out of order," but there’s not a single car waiting in line despite the lack of pumps. As if that’s not pathetic enough, the sign alongside the road is struggling for electricity as it flickers on and off. We’re one news story away from the eleven o’clock news.

  "Kippy, this is creepy, and it’s too dark. Find another gas station," Cara begs.

  "There’s nothing else. It’ll be quick. In and out."

  We file into the small convenience store, skeptical about what’s inside. Coolers line the far wall, but you can’t see what’s inside. The doors are all fogged up with condensation droplets dripping down the front. A few outdated gossip magazines and crossword puzzle books are in a rack near the door.

  "Can I help y’all?"

  We turn our heads toward the southern drawl. "We need a bathroom, please."

  The man smiles, but there’s no teeth behind his lips. "It’s around back. You’ll need a key to get inside. Had to start locking it so people would stop using it as their personal hotel room. I’d have to start charging them for the water bill if I didn’t."

  I can’t imagine anyone staying the night in a place like this, but I guess desperate times call for desperate measures.

  The attendant walks around from behind the counter. He’s barefoot in the middle of winter, wearing only a worn pair of jeans with a plaid button down. The entire outfit has seen better days.

  He holds out his hands with the silver key ring dangling from his pointer finger. "You needed to use the bathroom, right?"

  "Oh, right." I step forward and take the key from him. "Thank you."

  "Just don’t forget to bring it back. Costs me money to get a new one made."

  "We’ll bring it back."

  One by one, we file out of the store. I’ve never seen Cara stay quiet for so long. I wasn’t even sure it was possible. But as we reconvene in the parking lot, everyone looks a little shell shocked.

  "Come on guys, it’s around here," I tell them. I’ve stayed the night in a shitty motel. There’s no reason why I can’t survive a public restroom in this strange little town.

  The walk is tricky as there’s only one light illuminating the path, and the bulb is so dim, I can barely see two feet in front of me. White paint is sprayed on the first door we come to like poorly executed graffiti. The paint is peeling and where it’s not, it’s rusting. Still, there’s no mistaking the message. Each line of white spells out the word Shitter.

  "Couldn’t have said it better myself," Drew says.

  "That’s disgusting," Cara adds. "This place is a dump."

  I slide the key in the doorknob. It’s a tight fit, and at first, I wonder if I have the right key. I yank it back out, trying a second time. Finally, the teeth of the key slide in, and the nob turns.

  Cara yanks on my arm, stopping me before I pull the door open. "I changed my mind, I’m not going in there."

  "We’ve come this far. Look inside before you make up your mind. I’ll even go first." Against my better judgement, I pull on the door. It’s heavier than it looks. Just as I lean toward the light switch, it’s like the room becomes a vacuum, sucking me inside. The door slams shut behind me as the metal and brick grind together, echoing off the cinder block walls.

  "Shit," I mumble to myself. I’m done volunteering. The lights dim, but still bright enough to reveal the surrounding walls and floor. Between the scribbles on the wall, the wads of gum stuck to the mirror, and the pungent aroma of urine, I’m ready to leave. There’s no way Cara’s ever coming in here.

  This time I anticipate the weight of the door, using all my might to yank it open. But the knob is weaker than it looks, and it breaks off in my hand. The momentum sends me backwards, knocking me onto the grimy floor.

  I groan when I land hard on my hip, but I don’t stay down long enough to check for bruises. Not when my head is inches from the toilet, making me gag.

  Holding my side in pain, I bang on the door with my other fist. "Open the door, Cara."

  Her voice is muffled when she says, "I tried, but the knob broke off."

  No kidding. The other half is in my hand! "Kipton, hurry, it’s disgusting in here."

  Within seconds, Kipton’s banging on the door. "Sop
hie, are you okay?" I can tell by the tone of his voice, he’s both worried and angry.

  This trip was supposed to be a good time. So far, he’s argued with Cara, we’ve played shitty car games, and now I’m stuck in the bathroom at the gas station from hell.

  Road trip 3. Kipton 0.

  Chapter Four

  Kipton

  "Drew, go get the attendant. Tell him Sophie’s stuck inside his palace."

  I lean my ear against the door, listening for Sophie’s voice. "Sophie, can you hear me?"

  A scream so shrill it sends chills up my spine filters through the cracks in the brick facade. "Kipton, get me out of here!" she yells.

  "Sophie, talk to me. Are you okay?"

  "No, get me out of this dungeon. It’s freezing in here – and disgusting."

  "I’m trying, baby. We’re getting help. The door’s busted."

  There’s no response, only a second scream, but the attendant is back, still barefoot, with a screwdriver in his hand. "You need to get her the fuck out of there," I tell him.

  I pace back and forth, stringing a slew of curse words together in a colorful display of anger. It doesn’t do any good, or make him move any faster, but it makes me feel a little better.

  "Calm down, son. This ain’t the first time this happened. Probably won’t be the last time either."

  "Then why don’t you get a new door if this one is broken?"

  "Cause that takes money I don’t got. So, if you fancy folk plan on suing me for this, save yourself the trouble. All I got is a carton of cigarettes and my lady. You won’t get much for this place."

  "Who would want this place?" Cara mumbles, under her breath.

  The attendant glances over his shoulder. "You done roll in here with your fancy Buick like I owe you something. You stopped, nobody forced you."

  "My options were limited."