Page 33 of Cross Check Christmas
"You know what they say... Go big or go home."
"Speaking of going home..." I start sweetly.
He circles the mammoth tree, admiring it from every angle. "This beauty would make an impression. The kids would talk about it for years."
"The kids would talk about how their English teacher got fired for bankrupting the decorating committee."
"I'll chip in the difference."
"That's not the point." I cross my arms.
His eyes light up with that familiar mischievous gleam. "You know what might help us decide?"
"If you suggest hide and seek, I swear-"
"Ready or not!" He darts between the trees, leaving me standing there with my mouth open.
"Hendrix! Get back here! We have work to do!"
His laugh echoes through the rows of pines. "Can't hear you! I'm hiding!"
"This is completely unprofessional!" I shout, but I'm fighting back a smile despite myself. "We're supposed to be choosing a tree!"
"The perfect tree will find us!" His voice comes from somewhere to my left. "That's how it works!"
The enormous pines tower around me, branches heavy with fresh powder.
"This is childish!" I stomp through the snow, my sensible boots leaving angry prints. "We're supposed to be picking a tree for the dance, not-"
"Marco!" Hendrix's voice echoes through the trees.
"I am not playing this ridiculous game." I trudge through the snow, searching for a sensible tree that won't bankrupt the school.
"Polo!" His voice comes from somewhere to my left and I hear the his footsteps fly by.
I spin around, but he's nowhere to be seen. Just rows and rows of snow-dusted pines stretching in every direction. Great. I'm lost in a Christmas tree maze with an overgrown child.
"This isn't funny, Hendrix. Some of us have actual work to do."
The crunch of snow stops abruptly. I strain my ears, but the forest has gone eerily quiet.
"Hendrix?"
No response.
"This isn't funny anymore." I turn in a slow circle, scanning the trees. "We need to get back to-"
"Looking for me?" His warm breath tickles my ear.
I shriek and jump backward, right into the branches of a tree. The snow-laden boughs engulf me, dumping their cold load down my collar. I flail, trying to escape the prickly embrace of the tree, but only manage to get more tangled. Hendrix reaches out, circling my waist with his arm.
"Gotcha." His voice is low, amused as he rescues me.
I'm suddenly very aware of his hands on my waist, steadying me. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I'm not sure if it's from the near-fall or his proximity.
"You okay?" He doesn't let go.
"I'd be better if you weren't acting like a child." But my voice comes out breathier than intended.
