Page 2 of Unwrapping His Gift
“I know, I know you are,” she interrupts. “But seriously, you have to see this. Just come out for a few minutes, and then you can come back to your little cave here. Who knows, you might even find yourself enjoying yourself!”
I frown back at her with myas-ifface. “Oh, sure. I’ll have agreattime!” I counter, causing us both to laugh. But still, I get up from the windowsill and go lean on Marissa as we both make our way from the dark office and back into the hallway leading into the front where the actual party is going on.
I can already hear it as we start getting closer: the Christmas music playing, Tasha singing along, people laughing and talking to one another, telling stories about how much they all love the holidays – but then I hear something else, something different. Grown women giggling. They’re all going on about something that seems to have them quite happy, and as we approach the main room of the office and their voices get louder, I can feel Marissa’s eyes on me, watching my reaction.
“I feel as though I’m being led to my own execution,” I tell her.
“Oh, stop,” she laughs. “You’ll be fine. If you let yourself relax, you might even have some fun for once!”
“I was having fun before–”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Marissa scoffs. “In your cold, dark room feeling miserable by yourself. Tell me, in your room back there, did they havethis?”
With a dramatic, magician-like flourish, Marissa waves her arm, beckoning me forward to join the others.
Part of me wants to spin around and run back to safety. But I know that would be wrong. I am a twenty-two-year-old woman. I can’t be behaving like that! It’s just a Christmas party, after all. How bad could it really be?
So I put one foot in front of the other and step past Marissa into the large office space that’s normally filled with cool, hip, “work friendly” furniture that has now been transformed and opened up into a “holiday space” where everyone has gathered to celebrate and have a great time.
But really, Daisy, how bad could it be?
I see Tasha over by the speakers, some kind of Christmas cocktail in her hand, singing along to “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” Claire picking cookies off the table filled with snacks, and Rhonda leaning against the wall with a smile on her face, looking off in the direction of where most of the noise is coming from.
“Over there,” Marissa whispers, pointing like she’s sharing a dirty little secret with me. I know I’m going to regret it, but I look anyway. And sure enough, what I see makes me want to run back for the cover of my nice cold, dark room.
He may not be a male stripper, but someone decided that hiring a mega-hottie to play Santa this year would be a great idea. He’s wearing the all-red outfit – cap and everything – which has all been perfectly designed to show off his body. And it’s clear from one quick look that this is a guy who spends plenty of time at the gym.
Jasmine is on his lap right now, giggling and squirming around as he asks her what she’d like for Christmas, and whether she’s been a naughty girl or not this year, while the rest of the girls in the office stand around in a circle, giggling like it’s one of the Jonas Brothers they’re waiting to get a chance to meet.
“Oh my God, Marissa,” I groan as I start to turn away. “Are you kidding me?”
“Oh, stop right there,” she says, snatching me by the wrist. “You’re not going anywhere. Don’t you want to meet Santa!?”
“I’m not five anymore, Marissa,” I reply. “Andthatis not Santa.That is a totalChad from the Harvard rowing team.That is…”
My voice trails off as it hits me. A punch in the gut of pure realization. A tornado-like wind that sweeps through my mind, tearing up memories from the past that I thought I’d buried forever and would never be brought up again.
The whole world seems to slow down as Jasmine, laughing like she’s having the time of her life, gets up from “Santa’s” lap and reveals his face fully to me.
He’s five years older, but I recognize him immediately, and something comes over me. It’s like every nerve in my body starts to tingle. My stomach starts doing backflips, and parts of me start to tense up.
The urge to run ramps up inside of me, but not to run back to my back room where I was hiding before. Now I want to run as far away from here as I can go. Because sitting on the chair in front of me, surrounded by women ogling him like he’s the hottest thing in the world, is Craig, my high school ex-boyfriend who ghosted me on prom night and I haven’t seen or heard from in five years.
He’s laughing. Why wouldn’t he be? This is every guy’s dream, isn’t it? To be surrounded by girls fawning all over you like you’re Justin Bieber? He watches Jasmine as she skips away from him, surveying his crowd of man-hungry office women to see which one is up next to hop on his knee, and that’s when our eyes meet.
It’s like nothing’s changed in the last five years.
A rush of emotion hits me like I’ve been clobbered in the chest by the Hulk’s fist. I nearly double over as I watch the expression in his eyes change. I can see him trying hard not to let everything he’s feeling inside show (typical guy), but he’s feeling something.
His lips part like his jaw is going to drop, but he manages to hold back.
He’s surprised to see me, that’s for sure. No, he’s more than surprised. He’s shocked, but he’s doing a good job keeping a straight face. He’s still got a job to do. He has to make all these girls happy, right?
Well forget it. I’m not sticking around to watch.
I spin on my heel and bolt for the elevator door.
“Daisy, where are you going?” Marissa calls after me. But I ignore her. I grab my coat from the hanger and thumb the call button.