Page 8 of Texting My Secret Santa

My Secret Santa:Why are you so obsessed with doing it properly? They didn’t give us any rules.

Me:Well, maybe I’ve got my own rules—Christmas rules.

My Secret Santa:You can’t be serious.

Who is this person? It could literally be anybody in the entire company, meaning hundreds of people. Just because most of us are getting into the Christmas spirit, it doesn’t mean thatapplies to everybody. Lots of people are probably ready to put the holidays behind us.

Me:Why is that so shocking to you?

My Secret Santa:I don’t want to be a cliché, but some would say Christmas is just a consumerist, wasteful holiday—a sign of decadence.

Me:That’s a very pessimistic way to look at it.

My Secret Santa:How do you view it, then?

Me:I see it as a way to build community, bond, and make memories.

I study my last message as the cursor blinks, then delete it. Why am I trying so hard with this person? It’s not my job to win them over. Instead, I text,Okay, fair enough. Why don’t you just tell me what you want?

My Secret Santa:I already told you. I don’t want anything.

I groan. Are they trying to be annoying?

Me:What sort of person wants nothing for Christmas? Plus, it’ll be super awkward when it’s time for us all to swap our gifts, and you give me something, and I’m just standing there.

My Secret Santa:Are you worried about looking like a jerk?

They’re the jerk, but I will not tell them that. They’re making this process far more complicated than it needs to be. It’s supposed to be a bit of fun. Some people are determined to ignore any concept of goodwill at this time of year.

Somebody sits at my table. I look up, ready with a smile. If somebody has just sat down without asking, they’re presumably a friend. When I see it’s Derek, I do my best not to look annoyed. He’s been giving me attention for the past month or two. It’s not that he’s a bad person—at least, I don’t think he is—but I’m just not interested.

As usual, I notice how skinny he is. It’s not a bad thing, but he’s nothing like Asher, with his strong jawline and temptingly powerful features.

Get a grip, Holly.

“Hey, Derek,” I say.

“Hey.” He picks at the table with his thumbnail like a shy boy approaching his crush. “I just wanted to say it’s a shame I didn’t get you for my Secret Santa.”

“Maybe you did,” I shrug. “Who knows?”

“The person I’m matched with wants a LEGO set. You’re not really into LEGO sets, are you?”

As usual, he skirts that fine line between making me uncomfortable and making me feel bad for thinking that way.

“No, Derek, not really. Aren’t you going to get anything to eat?”

“I’m not hungry … for food.”

I stand up, leaving the rest of my meal untouched. “I have to get back to work.”

I seriously don’t like those hints he’s dropping. He seems like a decent enough guy, somewhat odd and a bit disconnected from reality. We met when I was doing a feature on his department.I must have said something he perceived as flirty, but I never meant it like that.

Back in my office, I text my Secret Santa, trying to get Derek out of my head.

Me:I’m worried about you looking like a jerk. Because, guess what? When people ask why you haven’t got a gift, I’m not exactly going to be tight-lipped about the answer.

My Secret Santa:Let me look like a jerk, then. It won’t be the first time, and it probably won’t be the last.

---