Page 57 of Snow Globe Secrets

“Thank God the campus store was still open!” I shook the ornament in front of Randall, and he rolled his eyes at me, rising and grabbing it.

“Just, place it anywhere?”

“There’s the Randy I know and love!” Dad chimed in. “You can’t turn a Christmas tree into x’s and o’s, my friend. It’s just utter chaos. Shit hanging wherever. Just … let it be utter chaos.” Dad waved his arms above his head in the direction of the tree. “Although you might be the tallest, so you should aim for some of those higher branches.” My dad beamed at his old friend. I was beaming at him too, for different reasons.

We all laughed, including Randall, whose face lit up in a way I’d not seen before as he corrected my dad, all of us moving back and forth from the bin to the tree, one ornament at a time. “It’s ones and twos, Mart. Not x’s and o’s. And if you gave me until morning, I could probably design a diagram that would have this tree looking much more symmetrical.”

“Are you saying my tree is crooked, Randy?”

“I’m saying it’s chaotic.”

“Perfect,” my dad declared.

Bruce Springsteen started warning us about being good, and the banter quieted as I swapped bin number one for bin number two.

Dad had left for the garage and returned with a step stool, which I dutifully climbed before he handed me one more ornament, but then Randall took over their distribution.

My mom had taken a step back to admire our work, and Dad joined her, encircling her in his arms as the two pretended to be rock stars, singing along to the Christmas classic.

“Very efficient of you,” I muttered as Randall walked toward me with ornaments hanging off each of his fingers.

I laughed as he realized he couldn’t remove them. He offered a hand up to me, and I began plucking them off one by one. It had taken until box two, but we finally came upon one with a smiling elementary-school-aged Austin, surrounded by painted macaroni.

“Cute kid,” Randall muttered.

I leaned down, eyeing my parents as they blasted out holiday lyrics, and took my time grabbing the next ornament. “I hear some people think he grew up to be pretty hot.”

“You think so?”

“Let’s just say, I know people who think so.”

Randall let out a scoff that brought my parents’ concert to an abrupt end, and I realized what they were seeing: me leaning down, my face close to Randall’s as we flirted and joked.

I took two ornaments and straightened up to place them on the tree before climbing down to move the stool to the other side.

My dad broke the ice. “Looking good, you two.”

I dared a glance down to Randall. “See, that’s what I said!” I did try to keep the flirty tone out of my voice and the dancing laugh from my eyes, but I may have failed. Randall rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful, and Mom stared at us like we actually were a couple of extraterrestrials.

“Okay!” she interrupted. “I don’t think we can fit another bauble on that tree. Stay right there, Aus. Honey, find the star for the top. It should be in that box.” She pointed, and Dad bent down to rummage through yet another bin full of holiday decorations.

I stood awkwardly on the step stool, and Randall cleared his throat. He got as far as, “I’m just going …” when my move to look at him had me losing my balance and half falling, half hopping off the step stool.

I stumbled to the floor, landing on my feet but only maintaining my balance because I fell right into Randall’s embrace. His arms were firm around my waist, and mine were just as tight on his shoulders as we worked to keep us both balanced.

Somewhere in the background, I could hear my mother gasping at my fall as we found our footing. I didn’t let go for a beat too long, not breaking apart until my dad stood up, three boxes now open at his feet. “Found it!”

Randall gave my waist a little squeeze before stepping back and reaching up to adjust his glasses, only he wasn’t fast enough. I got there first and pulled them forward and back over his ears to even them out. “Parfect,” I said as Randall took a big step back, and my dad invaded my space to shove a silver star in my hands. I didn’t dare look back at my mom.

Randall moved quickly away from the tree, and my mom intercepted him as Dad pulled my attention from the blushing man.

“Good catch, ET,” my mom joked, handing him his beer. I watched him guzzle it before realizing Mom’s intent eyes were on me.

“Thanks, Dad.” I grabbed the star and climbed back up the step stool, my mind focused way more on being back in Randall’s arms again than on our family-decorating traditions or how placing the star was always a special moment. I was reaching up but dropped my hand and looked at my parents, my dad beaming up at me and my mom looking back and forth from me to Randall, who was still intently focused on his beer.

“Um, I just want to say Merry Christmas. I’m glad to be home and glad to have safely delivered your friend back to you. Do you have your phone, Mom? You should take a picture.”

I waited while Mom retrieved her phone from the counter. Free from her stare, Randall put his beer on the table and sat back down, still looking nervous but slightly relieved as well.