Page 20 of Hostile for the Holidays

We hang up and I think about what Liam said. I haven’t lost my head over Stella, but my heart is a different matter.

I’m on my way back from the post office, passing by the Frosty Fir Tree Farm, when a flash of pink among the trees catches my eye, so I slow down on the road. A woman is aggressively hacking at the base of a tree. I can’t imagine that style of chopping is going to get her very far. I can make out the blonde hair trickling out from under the stocking hat. Even from this distance, I know it’s Stella.

I pull into the parking lot, then make my way through the rows of trees. For a moment I think I’ve lost her, but then I spot her pink hat with a large fuzzy pompom on it bobbing around near the base of a giant spruce. The tree must be eight feet tall.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

She pops her head out to look at me.

“Come on, Jensen. It’s a Christmas tree farm. Use your brain.”

“I know what you’re doing. Why are you doing it by yourself?” I glance around, confirming she is alone. “Where are your parents? Where’s Sadie and Tom?”

“They’re at the final menu tasting for the reception dinner,” she says before moving around the tree to find a better angle.

“You didn’t want to go?”

“No, I’m busy setting up Christmas.”

When I arrived home yesterday evening, I’d noticed there weren’t any Christmas lights on the St. James’ house. One thing I learned about Stella in the fourth grade is she’s obsessed with Christmas light displays. Her family has always gone big on Christmas, but it seems that with Sadie’s wedding in a couple weeks, things like outdoor lights and from the looks of it, even putting up a Christmas tree has been put aside.

She taps the earbud fitted in her ear. “Now leave me in peace so I can listen to Taylor Swift’s ‘Christmas Tree Farm’ on repeat while I cut this bad boy down.” She turns her back to me and continues chopping at the tree.

“You know, they have people to help with this part.”

“What’s a matter, city boy? You can’t chop down your own tree?”

She’s goading me and fuck if she’s not damn good at it.

“All right, give me the axe and I’ll take a turn.”

“You think I’m going to giveyouan axe?” She waves it around, laughing maniacally, which is ironic since she’s the one inferring I could be an axe murderer.

“Really, Stella? You think I’d murder you out here?” I motion to the families wandering around. “There are too many witnesses.”

“You’re so funny, Jasper.” She quirks those perfect lips at me. “Funnylooking.”

“That line was played out in middle school. Surely, you’ve got something better by now.”

“I like it just fine. Besides, no one tailors their insults at the request of their nemesis.”

“Nemesis? Have I been upgraded from rival?”

A couple passes us, walking hand and hand in search for their tree. They look happy and in love. It could be their first Christmas together. It could be their tenth.

I think about all the holidays I watched Stella with her family across the street. How each time I’ve returned to our sleepy mountain town, I’ve been hopeful that things would be different. I realize now how much time I’ve wasted waiting for Stella to wake up to the fact that we’re not kids anymore and I don’t want to compete with her. I want to stroll through a field of pine trees to pick out a Christmas tree with her. Then go home and set it up together, using a mix of ornaments from her childhood and mine to fill the tree, alongside some we’ve collected as a couple. Then, with the glow of the fireplace at our side, I’d drown in her sweet pussy before fucking her so good, she leaves scratch marksdown my back. Or something like that. I haven’t given it much thought.

That’s not reality…yet. Right now, I’m her fake boyfriend, one she despises at that. But fake dating has to be better than being friend-zoned, so I’ll take it.

“Come on, Stell, let me give it a shot. How can I earn my fake boyfriend credentials if I don’t do something rugged and masculine for you?”

“No. Get your own tree.”

She takes a swing but the tree trunk doesn’t give at all.

She’s holding it wrong, both hands gripping the end like a baseball bat.

“I was looking forward to Christmas with my family. All of my childhood traditions.”

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