Page 36 of Texting My Secret Santa

ASHER

She thought she was so sneaky when I was drinking my coffee. I heard the floorboards creaking, then saw her out of the corner of my eye as she tried to spy on me. It’s like she thought she was a Christmas elf. I made sure I wasn’t texting when she could see.

Is that why she was watching me? The timing of the texts seemed too coincidental for it to be anything else.

When I emerge from the bedroom, she laughs, putting her hand over her mouth. Her face lights up with delight. It was the response I wanted when I wore this old Christmas sweater.

“Ineverthought I’d see this,” she says.

I shrug. “Today isn’t about me. It’s about you, Holly. So, for you, I will subject myself to the humiliation of this sweater.”

She rolls her eyes, so alluring, so magnetic. “Ofcourse,the Grinch would have to phrase it like that.” She looks at me closely. She’s trying to trip me up. I’m only the “Grinch” in the world of my Secret Santa.

“Let’s hit the road, Snowflake.”

We get into the elevator together. I’m relieved when somebody else climbs in with us. Being in confined spaces alone with her is not good for my willpower.

Being together in the car is very difficult. I focus on the road, my heart pounding, my body temperature rising. She’s effortlessly tempting.

“Are you excited?” I ask.

“Yeah. Thanks for doing this.”

“It’s not a favor,” I say. “I’m excited too. I haven’t been rock climbing in years.”

“Did you and Mia used to go?”

Where didthatcome from?

Maybe she can read my reaction. “We’re friends, remember, Asher? Friends can talk about their exes.”

“No, Mia and I never went rock climbing. I went with a work buddy a few times.”

I stare at the road. She stares at me. I can tell she wants to ask me more about Mia, but I’ve got no interest in talking to her about it. Along with the stuff about Mom, it’s just another reminder of how difficult Christmas can be.

“I just hope I don’t make a fool of myself.”

“Why would you say that?” I ask.

“I’m not the athletic type.”

“I’ll be there every step of the way,” I tell her.

“Hopefully, nobody judges me.”

“Nobody’s going to judge you.”

Where’s the confident woman from last night, the one who coaxed me into turning around and seeing her naked? I want to compliment her on her body. She deserves it, but it’d mean crossing another line.

“I hope not.”

“Fucking hell, Snowflake. Nobody’s going to judge you because there’s nothing to judge. Even if they did, I’m there. I’ll go full Grinch on their asses if they even think about it.”

“Full Grinch,” she repeats.

“Your holiday expressions are rubbing off on me.”

“Hmm.”

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