Page 43 of Texting My Secret Santa

She places them on my desk, then lingers, toying with a loose piece of string on her sweater.

“Is there anything else?” I ask.

“I just wanted to say, uh, your suit looks good today.”

“I need to get on with my work, Mia.”

She quickly leaves the room, mumbling, “Sorry.”

I almost feel bad for her. If there’s one thing I don’t need this Christmas, it’s a blowout with a woman named Mia. Two in a row is more than any man can handle.

Yesterday, I purposefully avoided Holly as much as I could. She spent the morning and afternoon with her friends. I got some work done. In the late afternoon, when she returned home, I came to the office to get out of her space.

I overshared on Saturday, telling her I cared, that she meant more to me than my ex, the woman I almost proposed to. It’s true, but that doesn’t mean I should’ve said it. It was reckless.

I can’t avoid her later because I’m picking her up and then taking her to the church so I can put on the red suit, and she can slip into her elf costume. I wasn’t lying when I said I liked the idea of her in Christmas stockings, not that it makes it any easier.

My Secret Santa phone buzzes. The last text was me saying we should keep our messages about Secret Santa and nothing else.

My Secret Santa:Somebody’s gone quiet.

I’ve been avoiding messaging her on this phone.

One, it violates the principle that we’re supposed to be friends, nothing more. Two, she doesn’t know this is me, and it hurts thinking of her flirting with somebody else.

I turn the phone face down and try to ignore it. Yeah, good luck, Asher.

Me:Maybe I’m so busy getting into the Christmas cheer that I haven’t had time to text.

My Secret Santa:That seems unlikely coming from you.

Me:Your texts have changed me.This part isn’t even a lie, though I know she understands I’m being playful and sarcastic to some degree.I was a miserable guy before, but not anymore. I’m going to make you proud soon.

My Secret Santa:How’re you going to do that?

Me:By doing something I would never have imagined myself doing before we started texting.

That’s not a lie, either. Before coming here, I never would’ve dreamed of kissing my best friend’s sister or never imagined touching and obsessing over little Tarantino. The age gap, the betrayal, and the taboo of it were unthinkable.

Not anymore. It’s all I can think about.

My Secret Santa:Care to be more specific?

I can’t do that without revealing who I am, though I think she knows. For the millionth time, I think about smashing this phone to pieces.

Me:You know I like to keep things mysterious.

My Secret Santa:Yeah, it’s one of the most infuriating and interesting things about you.

Me:That’s my specialty: annoying you and making you curious simultaneously.

My Secret Santa:I think I’ll get you “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” for Secret Santa. It suits you. You can never decide which version of yourself you’re going to be.

Me:I know we’re joking around, but that is an extremely impressive insight,I tell her.Doesn’t that apply to all of us? We all have multiple versions of ourselves, like stockings on the mantlepiece, and every day, we need to decide which one we will explore.

My Secret Santa:We make a good team, she replies.You’ve just taken my point and made it even better. Later, I’m going to be a good teammate, too.

I clench my jaw. She’s digging, trying to discover if this is me. Is it time to rip off the Band-Aid? We’ve overstepped so many lines already.

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