Page 41 of Not Another Christmas Movie

“What part?” Nick asked, turning to her with a look of, what, exactly? Sadness, maybe? Whatever it was, it crept into his soft eyes and settled there.

“I mean, like, um, the two of us here hanging out without the rest of the neighborhood kids,” Annie trailed off, the strange flush of butterflies returning. A particularly loud kernel burst nearby, making her jump. She was now much closer to Nick and her heart raced. She cleared her throat and stepped back. “You’re also so much calmer about this whole ‘we’re stuck in a made-for-TV Christmas movie’ scenario.”

“I’ve always been a go-with-the-flow kind of guy,” Nick said, looking away and shrugging. “Oh, I also came home and took a bath,” he gushed like a child telling his friends about all his surprise birthday gifts.

“Me too! It was really nice.”

Nick stepped a little closer to Annie and she involuntarily shivered. “I thought so,” Nick said.

“Yeah?” Annie asked softly.

“You smell—” Nick started.

“I smell?” Annie frowned and moved back.

“No, no, it’s nice!” Nick smiled. “You smell very nice.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you,” Annie flushed.

“Smell me,” Nick said, throwing his body closer to Annie’s nose. She laughed and pushed him away. “C’mon, Annie, do it!” Nick continued.

“Do you think the movie gods would allow it?” Annie asked. “You know, since they wouldn’t let us …” Annie trailed off, heat rising in her body, unable to stop admiring how broad his chest looked in his pajama top, her fingers desperate to unbutton it and get a look underneath. When she looked up, Nick’s face carried its own intensity, and Annie wondered if he was playing out similar scenarios in his head.

Stop it, Annie, she scolded herself. Time to change the subject.

“Before we got here, did you ever wonder if you and Bailey would get back together?” Annie asked.

“Huh … um, honestly, no, not really. I’m not sure I’d say we’re ‘together’ now either … She was my high school girlfriend, and that was a long time ago,” Nick explained before laughing at a realization. “We met thanks to Simsbury’s summer theater program, and the show we did was Annie. Bailey played the title role.”

“Of course she did,” Annie said, rolling her eyes. “Were you in that show? I can’t remember.”

“I wanted to do backstage stuff, but they were down teenage boys who willingly wanted to wake up and work on a musical all summer, so I had to play a few different parts like the trash guy and the chauffeur. Bailey and I hung out so much we ended up a couple.” Nick shrugged. Annie assessed his demeanor, trying to gain a better understanding of their relationship, but was unable to truly discern anything. “Anyway, it’s hard to be here and consider what’s next. Like, is this our new reality now or do our old lives still exist outside of whatever this is?” Nick asked, gesturing at everything around them.

“Please don’t say that. I can’t commit myself to the idea that this is now our life,” Annie said, shaking her head. “Does this place even exist after Christmas? And when is the made-for-TV Christmas time frame anyway?”

“That’s a complicated question,” Nick started.

“It shouldn’t be,” Annie countered, already uncomfortable with an involved answer.

“Well, there’s been a whole new push of Christmas movies in July now, but traditionally, it’s around mid-October running into the first week of January,” Nick said.

“January sucks on its own, no way it’d survive here,” Annie mused, biting her lip.

“January sucks, huh?” Nick asked, curious about her meaning.

“Duh. We’re left with lights to take down in the dark. It’s cold, the snow has certainly lost its charm, and what are we all supposed to look forward to? Freaking Valentine’s Day?” Annie asked. “January lurks outside the holiday snow globe, and it’s gloomy and frigid. No more bells and whistles, no decorative coffee cups, once beautiful trees are sent to the garbage to be hauled away. What if this is just another thing that gets packed up and put into storage too?” Annie asked, fearful of their future.

“Is this better than spending the holiday alone?” Nick asked.

Annie wasn’t sure how to respond. Her instinct was to deflect and deny, but she was more aware of that behavior being something “Past Annie” would do, and despite the odds, she wanted to be better than that. She swallowed the sassy remark she would normally have made. Nick seemed to sense she was censoring something and met her eye, ready to backtrack.

“I just mean, maybe there’s something we’re supposed to take away from our time here,” Nick said.

“How do you know so much about these movies, anyway?” Annie asked, looking his way with a sudden, critical gaze. Nick’s face flushed, and he broke their eye contact again, curling back into himself.

“I watched a lot of Christmas movies my junior year of high school,” Nick said after a moment staring at the floor.

“Oh,” Annie said, trying to soften her approach. Nick’s demeanor clued her in that he was suddenly more exposed than she had ever seen him, displaying a seriousness that was somehow foreign. “You don’t have to—” Annie started, but Nick cut her off.