Page 45 of Unexpected Company
He places a finger on either side of my chin and tips my face to his.
“What’s up?” His warm eyes are intense and I find myself unable to tear my attention away from them. This close, I can see the flicker of gold in his irises. He’s so fucking handsome.
“I would have loved some photos of…” I swallow, my words sticking in my throat. “Of our date.”
His eyes widen but his lips tip, lighting up his features.
“Sorry, that was presumptuous. It’s just…this –” I wave a hand out to my side. “It all feels very date-like and I guess I wanted it to feel that way to you, too.” Heat rushes up my neck, settling on my cheeks. “God, sorry. I’m reading way too much into this, ain't I?”
Garrett still has a hold on my chin, and he uses it to bring our lips together. Hovering his mouth over mine, he says, “It’s a date.” My heart does a dance in my chest, pounding against my rib cage, and my stomach flutters like it’s filled with a flurry of snowflakes.
“Now quit frowning and come pick us the perfect tree.” He kisses me then. It’s chaste, but meaningful and I lock the sensation of his lips and the brush of his beard in the place in my mind I keep for all my most important memories. Because this, right here? It’s everything I could have wanted for Christmas.
We pass through the entry and down the middle row. There’s a wooden sign at the start informing us that the trees this way are between 7 and 8 foot.
“What size are we looking for?” I ask, brushing my hand lightly against the green of the tall tree next to me.
“We’d best aim for around five foot,” Garrett answers. We reach the end of the row and swing a right, passing a family where two kids are posing for a photo. The wooden sign here tells us we’ve found the row we need.
Garrett lifts his hand, palm up.
“Go on, sweet thing. Make your pick.” This seems like a momentous task. How do you pick theperfectChristmas tree? Isthere such a thing? Or is everything about this Christmas already perfect because of who I get to spend it with? A few weeks ago, I was okay with spending it alone. Now I cannot think of anything better than waking up next to Garrett.
I amble along the path, inspecting the branches of each Norway Spruce. Some are a little crooked, while others appear bushier than their counterparts. When we reach the end of the row, I happen across one that is slightly smaller than the rest. Its branches are full of fragrant green needles, but it has one branch hanging loosely, the break in the wood clear when you get closer.
“This one,” I say, the leaves pricking my skin when I run my hand through it. Garrett doesn’t question my decision. He only smiles and nods, then tells me to wait with it while he hunts down a member of staff.
He returns moments later, a guy behind him, pushing a wheelbarrow containing a small axe and a larger saw. The staff member hands me the axe and shows me how to hold it. It’s heavier than I expected and I spread my legs to steady myself, then swing it at the base in the way I was directed. I make contact, but not enough to do more than dent the thick wood. It’s no wonder they use an electric saw these days – taking this down would be bloody hard work.
“Stay like that,” Garrett says, his voice light. He takes his backpack off and ruffles through it, producing a bright pink polaroid camera. A chuckle falls from my lips unbidden.
“Where did you get that?”
“Oh this? I always carry a polaroid camera in my bag. Don’t you?” He laughs, a big bellowing laugh that fills my soul with warmth. “I bought it at the grocery store yesterday. According to the cashier there, it’s a popular gift this year. They had one left, which I was lucky enough to snag. Now lift that axe and smile.” He holds the tiny camera in his big hand and I do as he commands.
After a few moments, a photo slides out the side of the unit and Garrett pulls it out. I move to his side – leaving the axe with the member of staff looking on – and peer at the photo, waiting for the picture to appear.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Garrett muses when the image shows. He hands me the camera, takes his wallet from his back pocket, and tucks the photo inside. “I’m keeping this.”
“I want one too.” I shove his arm, nudging him towards the tree. He obliges, lifting the axe and posing with it while I snap, one, two, then a third photo, tucking them all into my back pocket.
When we’re done, the farm employee says we can go on and enjoy the rest of the activities while he cuts down our selection and takes it to the front where they will wrap it securely in netting, before leaving it for us to collect later.
We stroll slowly, hand in hand, down rows of trees, taking the long way to the main entertainment area. The sky is darkening by the time we’ve purchased entry tickets, but everywhere is lit up with an array of festive decorations.
“What do you want for Christmas?” I ask Garrett. Not that there is any chance of me finding him something on Christmas Eve, but I’m still keen to know.
“Hmm,” he hums, silence falling between us while he mulls over his answer. We pass a man in front of a steaming food stall. He’s roasting caramelised chestnuts over a heated plate before scooping them up into small green paper cups. Garrett stops, orders a cup, pays with a tenner, telling the guy to keep the change and then interlinks our hands again.
“Nothing that comes to mind. As a self-sufficient adult, I tend to buy anything I want as and when I want it. And besides, I’m usually alone at Christmas.”
He clears his throat, then pops a chestnut in his mouth before offering the cup to me. I take one, moaning when the sweet caramel hits my tongue.
“You don’t have family to spend it with?” I ask. He’s vaguely mentioned his parents before, but I don’t know what their story is, or if he has siblings or cousins he could spend the season with.
Garrett eats another chestnut, shaking his head as he chews.
“No. I mean, Ihavea family. My parents live down in Bristol, but we’re not on speaking terms.” He looks at me, and must read the question on my face because he hastily adds on, “They didn’t want a bisexual son. It was fine if I was happy to ignore my attraction to men, but I wasn’t going to do that. I’m not giving up a piece of myself for anyone.”
