Page 45 of Mistletoe Face Off

“What's more, in my humble opinion, nothing says ‘Christmas spirit’ like John McClane giving terrorists the best gift of all.”

“Which is?” Holly asks.

“Justice.” That felt good to say.

She makes a weird, nasally sound and I know she's working hard at not laughing at my ridiculous argument. John McClane giving terrorists the gift of justice? Yeah, so very Christmassy.

“I think the best Christmas movie ever made isIt’s a Wonderful Life,” Fiona offers, but neither of us respond. We’re not arguing with anyone but each other, and this one is even more fun than the Christmas present spat.

“Where's the love in that movie? Answer me that. Where are all those feel-good vibes people love at Christmas time?” Holly manages to ask.

“The movie takes place on Christmas Eve. That automatically makes it a Christmas movie. It's just math, Holly. And the explosions are very tinsel like. Both sparkly and bright. Coincidence? I think not.”

“Wow,” she says on a laugh. “You’ve really thought this through.”

“You know I’m right.”

She throws her hands on her hips, glaring at me as though I've just said something outrageous. “Love Actuallyhas ‘love’ in the title whereasDie Hardhas... well, ‘die.’ Which sounds more Christmassy to you?”

I shake my head. “I’m not budging.”

“What’s more, your movie is a stupid action movie, as realistic as any action movie from the 80s, which means it’s totally implausible.Love Actuallyis realistic. It teaches us that love is all around us. It’s even got a song about it!Die Hardteaches us that what? Glass is breakable? Bruce Willis looksgood in a white tank top? Hardly important life lessons, wouldn't you say?"

“You're talking gibberish. Do you know that?”

She ignores me. “The airport reunion scenes inLove Actuallycapture the true spirit of Christmas: being with the ones you love. No offense, but I'll take Hugh Grant over Bruce Willis any day of the week. A dancing Hugh Grant, at that.”

“You call that dancing? It's more like watching a giraffe on roller skates trying to navigate an ice rink.”

“Trust a hockey player to mention ice,” she deadpans. “I challenge you to listen to that song andnotdance.”

“Which song?”

“Jump.”

“I could so do that.”

“Want a bet?”

“Yup,” I reply. “Where?”

“Wherever you want.”

“Pick you up Sunday at 6:00.”

“You'd better.”

“I will. Don't you worry.”

We throw one final glare at one another before I turn and walk away, safe in the knowledge that we've pulled off another convincing argument for our audience, just as we agreed we would.

But what makes me grin from ear to ear as I join some of my teammates at the bar, is that I've got a date with Holly on Sunday night, and I cannot wait.

Chapter Eleven

Holly

NHL's Clarke Faces Off with Journalist in Yuletide Film Feud.

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