It’s a broom night.
I set the bag of Nerds Clusters on the nightstand before flinging the comforter off and storming to the door, aiming for the broom I keep in the hallway closet.
So imagine my surprise when I swing the door open and find the imposing figure of a tall man’s silhouette standing just a few feet from me.
I should scream, I should definitely scream. I should call for help. But I think my brain is short-circuiting because I can’t find the mental capacity to make my body move. I just stare at the intruder while he stares back at me. At least I presume that’s what he’s doing because I can’t see his face in the dark, just his unmoving, lean but muscular form.
I’m going to die. I didn’t think this is how I’d go out, I would have pictured something a little more reckless like my bungee cord snapping or my parachute not working when I finally cross those things off my bucket list. But no, it looks like I’m going to die by the hands of a stranger in my apartment and no one will find the body until I don’t report to work after break. I’m sure Sasha will devour my corpse before anyone even realizes I’m dead. I love that bitchy cat but without me to feed her three times a day, she probably wouldn’t hesitate to eat me instead.
Oh no, I hope he doesn’t kill my cat too.
I’m just about to beg for my cat’s life when the guy asks, “Why don’t you have a Christmas tree?”
Chapter Three
Cole
This place is so depressing. Not a Christmas decoration in sight. Not even a Christmas card on the small round dining table. How can someone live with such a lack of merriment?
Stammering a little, the woman asks, “Um, my what?”
“A Christmas tree?” I repeat myself. “Why don’t you have one? It’s a week before Christmas and you don’t even have a tree up yet. Not even one of those little three foot plastic things.”
The woman looks around the room as if searching for a tree to materialize out of thin air. Her eyes are the kind that tip up at the outer corners. They’re so captivating. And those lips? What I wouldn’t do to have them wrapped around my cock. I think God dipped into my wildest fantasies and made my dream girl come to life. I have no idea how old she is but this is the figure of a woman.
Drawing me out of my appreciative trance, the woman says, “I don’t have one.”
Gesturing with both hands around the small apartment I say, “Yeah, I can see that. Why not?”
“Because I hate Christmas.” She narrows her brows at me like I’m the crazy one.
“What? How can you hate Christmas? It’s the most magical time of the year. The lights. The snow. And the food! If you’ve never had a Christmas cookie from the bakery on third street, you’re missing out. It’s a transformative experience.”
“I just–hang on. Who are you and why are you in my apartment? How did you even get in here?”
I guess we’ll circle back to the whole hating Christmas thing later.
“Oh, the window.” As I point to the window I realize I’ve left it open so I hustle over to close it. I don’t want to catch a cold. I give myself a brief moment to enjoy the scent of freshly fallen snow now that I’m not panicking as much before closing the rocket pane and flicking the lock back into place. “These old things are really easy to unlock.”
The lady gapes at me. “But why are you here? Are you here to kill me?”
“What? No. I killed the guy three floors above you.”
Her jaw drops in shock forming her pouty pink lips into a perfect O. I’ll be fantasizing about that when I get home, for sure.
“Are you serious?”
I scoff. “Of course I’m serious. Why would someone joke about a thing like that?”
Stammering again, she concludes, “You–you killed Frank?”
“Yeah.” She doesn’t look devastated over it so I can assume they weren’t close. But I ask anyway, “Why? Were you guys a thing?”
To which she replies, “No. He’s not my type.”
“You aren’t his either.” I mutter under my breath. Or is itweren’tsince he’s now deceased?
Hurting her chin forward, she inquires, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
