12 Days 'til Christmas ✓

chapter sixteen

s i x t e e n

*

I've made a horrible mistake. I realise it within a few minutes of getting back in the car and that realisation grows as I drive, following the next set of directions Casper plugs into my phone and trying not to think about what I've done. I actually feel a bit queasy when it sinks in, and my hands would be shaking if I wasn't gripping the wheel so tightly.

What the fuck was I thinking, inviting him to permanently live with me when my stupid heart has decided to go all soft over him? I curse my desperation to be the helpful friend, the one people can turn to; if I wasn't so greedy for validation, maybe I'd have had a bit more time to figure out my crush, and either get rid of it or know not to ask Casper to move in.

But I rushed in to help a friend in need and now I have to live with a guy I have a rapidly-growing crush on.

"You all right?" Casper asks. "You've stopped singing along, and while I appreciate not being subjected to double the Christmas assault, I've come to realise that's a sign something's wrong."

Shit. Am I that transparent?

"No, no, just lost in thought," I say, and before he can ask what I'm thinking, I add, "Wondering what you've got up your sleeve."

"Ah. All shall be revealed." He taps his nose and winks, and that alone doubles my crush. Damn his adorable face.

"Talk to me," I blurt out. I need a distraction and the Christmas music isn't doing it because I know all the words and notes and melodies better than the back of my hand. "Tell me a story."

Casper chuckles. "Um. Okay. A ... Christmas story?"

I glance at him. "Do you have one?"

"Nothing fictional."

"I don't want fictional. Just ... tell me something I don't know."

He purses his lips at me and gives me a funny look; I can see him out of the corner of my eye, giving me a once over. "Um. All right. Well, you already know I've never celebrated Christmas myself. It's not something we ever did as a family. But there used to be this couple who lived next door," he says. His voice has softened, as though he's a teacher telling a story to a bunch of rapt kids. "They went all out, every year. Their garden was lit up like a ... well, like a Christmas tree."

He chuckles. I do too, trying to ignore the fact that I'm holding my breath listening to him talk.

"Anyway, they were really crazy about Christmas. More than you. Garden full of decorations, lights in every tree, the whole shabam. I hated it. Like, really hated it. It was all so garish and tacky, and they never turned it off for, like, six weeks straight."

"I don't like this story," I say. "Is it going to end in you sabotaging their decorations, Scrooge?"

"I would never," he says. "Anyway, one year they didn't put the decorations up, and I was so glad. I figured they'd finally come to their senses, and I would be able to sleep with the curtains open without the glow of flashing reindeer and presents and all that shit."

"Typical grinch."

Casper tuts and carries on. "But then I found out that the guy's wife had died, and she was the one who did it all. They were both absolutely crazy about Christmas, but then she died and he was too frail to put all their stuff out without her."

"Oh, god." My chest squeezes tight; I feel like crying over a couple of strangers. "That's so sad."

"Mmm. I thought so too," he says quietly. "So there I am, a grumpy seventeen-year-old grinch who hates Christmas, lugging these boxes out of storage while this sweet old one-legged guy directs me where to put the decorations. I fucking hated all those lights, until I found out why they weren't there anymore."