Page 6 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

Don’t get me wrong, the role has its perks. There’s no shortage of gorgeous women vying for a spot on my “nice” list. It’s a jolly way to pass the time between movies. But lately, this gig has left me feeling like a regifted sweater—slightly worn and wondering if I’ll ever find someone who wants to keep me for more than a season.

Every romantic scene I perform lately has me questioning if that kind of love truly exists, especially for a guy like me. Still, I keep playing the part.

Charming smile? Check.

Witty one-liners? You bet your ass.

Gratuitous shirtless scenes? If you’ve got it, flaunt it.

But deep down, I’m terrified that’s all I have to offer—a pretty face with a knack for selling bullshit. However, I’ve made a commitment. The Yuletide show must go on… for now.

BANG!

The door flies open. There she is: Chase “Killjoy” Pemberton. Game face on and ready to conquer the world—or at least make this morning talk show her bitch.

“Prep time, Ethan,” she snaps. “Don’t forget to plug the snowman scene. Make sure you tell them how hilarious it is.”

“Smokin’ hot snowman. Got it, boss.” I wink.

She rolls her eyes.

Score one for Ethan.

Getting under her skin is my favorite game to play. Her very warm, smooth skin.

That citrus shampoo scent of hers is like a time machine. One whiff brings me back to when we first met. It’s subtle but intoxicating, and it messes with my head every damn time. Her voice, with its rich, velvety husk, doesn’t help either. It still does things to me, firing up parts that should know better by now.

This woman drives me nuts, but I can admit it: Her signature ponytail and high cheekbones are a deadly combo. Sure, she wears that brunette topknot so tight, you can almost hear her scalp begging for mercy. But there’s no denying she’s gorgeous, with those captivating brown eyes and lashes that cast their own spell. And that athletic build? Let’s just say her full, pursed lips are making it really hard to stay focused.

But then she speaks, and it’s like a cold shower on my warm thoughts. Not to mention she’s decked out in an all-black suit... for a morning talk show. Her outfit is basically screaming “Fuck off” in a room full of holiday cheer. It’s a harsh reminder of the ice queen underneath. Suddenly, my dick wants to crawl into a hole and hibernate for the winter.

“Dingleberry, focus up! The second agenda item is the Christmas karaoke scene,” she says, pacing. “Since this is the first movie you sing in, we gotta hype that up. Audiences will go wild for it!”

I nod along, trying not to laugh at her intensity. Sometimes Chase takes herself way too seriously. Okay, all the time. I wonder if there’s some alternate universe where a more laid-back version of Chase exists—one who’d actually laugh at my jokes and be fun on set.

But here’s the catch: she’s the best damn director I’ve ever worked with. Her eye for detail, her vision, the way she can coax a solid performance out of even the worst actors—it’s fucking impressive. Not that I’d ever admit that to her. I’ve got an image to maintain, and it doesn’t involve kissing the director’s ass. Even if she looks incredible in those tight pants she wears.

No matter how hard I try with each movie, she remains unimpressed. Thank God the network forced her to hire me. It was a hit to my ego, I’ll admit. I’m used to women throwing their panties at me. But Chase? She sees me as an annoyance she can’t shake off, like gum stuck to her shoe. Which, frankly, makes me want to irritate her more.

After five films together, I’m still trying to break through her ice queen exterior. I’ve got ambitions, damn it. I’m not here only to play the heartthrob. I want to make a real impact and help these films shine. Who knows, maybe even direct someday? Working with Chase is a challenge, but it’s also a masterclass in filmmaking—if you can endure it.

Like how I’m enduring this talk show etiquette lecture as if I haven’t already nailed the morning show game. Hell, I could teach a course on winning over hosts while being half-awake and nursing a hangover.

“Finally, and this is critical,” she continues, her nostrils flaring like an angry bull. “Weneedmore Cherish Channel subscribers. Tell them it’s the perfect gift for Christmas. First month is free—emphasize that.”

“Whoa there, Holiday Huckster,” I say, ignoring the fire igniting in her eyes. “Why are you all worked up? It’s a morning show… light banter. Ya know, fun and festive.”

Chase huffs out a breath, putting a slight pause in her manic pacing. “Easy for you to say. I have never done a live interview before.”

Holy shit!Is Chase actually nervous? She may be Darth Director behind the camera, but that look in her eyes is unmistakable… pure panic.

Usually, I’d be on this like powdered sugar on a donut, but surprisingly I’m feeling… protective?Huh, that’s weird.

“Relax. We’ll just go out and do some friendly chit-chat. Try to enjoy yourself.”

But she looks like she’s about to pee her pants, throw up, and faint all at once. I can’t have her melting down on camera, or we’ll both look bad.

“Hey, chill! What’s the worst that could happen? You mess up and become an internet punchline? Like that ‘Side-Eyeing Chloe’ girl or the ‘Double Rainbow’ dude? I mean, yeah, your dignity would be toast, but think of all the sweet meme money!”

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