Page 6 of Oh No, My Best Friend Hates Christmas!

I watch through the screen windows as he approaches our large log pile, shedding his coat as he goes to reveal a forest-green long-sleeve shirt. I send a quick wish into the universe that he would shed that too, which goes unanswered, reminding me that I am supposed to be beingrespectful, not wishing for a chance to ogle a shirtless Basil.

Pity about those pesky morals I’ve got.

Baz tosses his coat over a low-hanging tree branch, then lifts a large, sturdy ax from the base of it, throwing the sharp tool up and over to rest on his shoulder.

I wipe a spot of drool off my chin.

Respectful, Heidi.Respectful.

I force my jaw shut as he grabs a hunk of log from the pile and stands it on a short, extra-wide stump. Wasting no time, he rears back with the ax, then slams it down, splitting the log in half. He repeats the motions until the log is small enough to fit in our fireplaces, then he adds the pieces to the dwindling pile of firewood leaning against the house next to the sunroom door.

I beam at him as he approaches with the cut wood, and his eyes move from my smiling face to the book lying unopened at my side.

Whoops.

“All right, all right! No need to be bossy!”

I laugh and give him a crisp salute.

He huffs what might be considered a laugh – if one is generous – and returns to his chopping.

I practice some much-needed self-control and do not watch him, instead picking up my book, muttering a firm “respectful”as I do.

Flipping the pages open to my bookmark – chapter eleven – I desperately hope that the main characters start kissing soon. If anyone should be allowed to kiss their best friend, it’s the cutiepie best friends in this story.

My delusional hopes are dashed immediately by the chapter title: “Cats and people are terrible distractions when one is trying to kiss someone else.” However, the fact that they’re at leasttryingto kiss is promising enough to keep me going.

The problem being, of course, that they don’t kiss. I get all the way to the end of chapter fourteen, and not a single pair of lips meet.

I believe I am being personally victimized by the author. She knows how much I want them to kiss, and she’s taunting me with it. And me? I just keep going back for more. She has given me the mere glimpse of a drug, and I’m hooked.

I sigh and set the book aside. The torture can continue another day.

My eyes wander but eventually land on Baz as he swings the ax up and then cracks it down, splitting a log in two like it’s butter.

It’s for the best, probably, I think, as he quarters the log, arms stretching the fabric of his shirtsleeves to their limit.We don’t need me getting any ideas.

Chapter Two

“Who’s that?” I ask, poking my head out of my bedroom door as Baz passes by it. He shrugs, then grabs my hand and heads to the stairs. Okay, I guess I’m going with him to see who’s come for a visit.

“I hope it’s your mom!” I exclaim as he guides me down to the ground floor. “I wanted to see if she’d be up for a Christmas movie marathon with me today. I know it’stechnicallya workday, but it’s slow season for Stryker – as you know – and I don’t think he’d mind if I did emails while drinking hot chocolate and watching Santa Claus fall off a roof.” We reach the bottom of the stairs, and Baz lets go of my hand to open the door. “It’s, like, my right as an American citizen or something, actually, to take a little holiday liberty. Righ– oh.”

It’s Archie standing on our floral-painted porch, bundled up in a large, bright red puffer coat and snow pants. I eye him warily.

“What areyoudoing here?” I ask, my voice laced with Scrooge-levels of disdain. He grins at me.

“Why, Heidi, that’s no way to greet a guest!” He tsks, and my eyes narrow. “I’ve come to take you sledding!”

He lifts a purple sled and thrusts it in my direction. Despite all common sense telling me it’s a bad idea, I brighten. Ilovesledding – even if it is with a manipulative lunatic.

“Really?” I ask, movie marathon forgotten. I can do that this weekend! Or tomorrow. What Stryker doesn’t know won’t kill him.

Archie nods his head, beaming, and I decide to call a truce for the day. I can be suspicious of him any day, but sledding?Sledding is an infrequent occurrence around here. Everybody is always all, “It’s too cold!” or “I’m a stupid, stinky loser who doesn’t like fun!”

As if it haseverbeen too cold for sledding – and that’s coming from a girl who hates to be outside. Outside Christmas activities are different, though. Outside Christmas activities aremagical, and anyone who disagrees is, in fact, a stupid, stinky loser.

Usually, Archie is in the latter category, but it seems today he’s found a fun bone in his body and is willing to use it with me. Yay!

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