Page 44 of Not Another Christmas Movie

“I don’t think you’re in danger of any of Princess Eve’s pranks,” Annie continued, trying to lighten the mood. She felt like a walking kaleidoscope of idiosyncrasies, unable to pinpoint a specific emotion but rather a myriad of too many of them, and it was giving her mental whiplash.

Annie burned to talk to Marsha and make sense of the fact that she might want to jump Nick when she was supposed to be wooing Chris. Did she have an actual, legit crush on Nick? The deep wanting to kiss him earlier in the day had been all-consuming, sure, but was that because she was unsure if she even wanted to kiss Chris again? Or maybe it was knowing that real-world Annie disliked herself every time she followed Chris back to his apartment, allowing herself to believe that maybe that was all the romance she deserved and she didn’t really want to go back to that.

“I should get home and try and sleep?” Annie said, almost as if it were a question. She wasn’t tired, exactly; she just wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold on to all these racing feelings without them spilling out in ways she couldn’t control.

“Oh, okay, right,” Nick said, not meeting her eye. Annie thought she picked up the slightest note of disappointment. “I’m glad you liked the movie,” he said earnestly.

“The soundtrack! So many bangers,” Annie said appreciatively. She could handle conversations about the movie and its music. Easy-peasy.

“So many!” Nick nodded. “I’ll have to make you a mix tape.”

“Oh, yes, please. I’ll play it in my cassette player,” Annie said, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out. “Thanks, Nick. This weird alternate reality is more fun with you.”

“Likewise,” Nick said with the slightest bit of grit in his voice. It caught in Annie’s ear, and she dared herself to make eye contact with him. His eyes looked serious and focused. She didn’t trust herself to stay a moment longer and risk doing something very stupid and reckless; she wouldn’t be able to blame it on one too many boozy seltzers. Without another word, Annie made a move to go downstairs, Nick a step behind her.

We’re both probably breathing in crazy Christmas pheromones, Annie thought. I’m carrying some pent-up sexual frustration that has absolutely nothing to do with Nick, but he’s the only normal human nearby, so that’s why I want to hump him, Annie mused before letting out a tiny huff as she hurried down the stairs and internally berated herself. But the more she wanted to stop thinking about anything remotely sexual, the more she wanted to keep considering it, and her body sparked with heat.

When Annie stepped outside again, Nick still just behind her, a sudden burst of snowflakes landed atop their heads. Nick jumped out and looked toward the sky, more snow falling on his face.

“Real snow!” Nick laughed. “And it actually feels somewhat cold,” he marveled before opening his mouth to try and catch a flake.

Annie moved more cautiously and slowly held out an open palm, allowing a series of snowflakes to land and melt against her hand. The beautiful, Instagram-worthy moment was not lost on her, but it brought to mind those hours before she had ended up here, stalking Chris’s page and seeing pictures of his assumed girlfriend enjoying similar scenes. Already, it felt like forever ago and like it had happened to a completely different person. If they were trapped in a time outside of their reality, why were they stuck here in this Christmas movie set? What was she missing?

Nick was doing figure eights around the front yard, careful to give the inflatables their space as he sought out more fresh snow to fawn over. Annie took a few timid steps, not trusting her recent proclivity for falling to take advantage of these slippery conditions, but the LED blinking nose of an eight-foot giant Rudolph summoned her close. The snow kept falling, the flakes fluffy and picturesque, landing on the ground freshly covered in a smooth layer of white. Annie closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the stillness and riding waves of calm.

“Don’t move,” Nick said, closing in on her. Annie’s eyes blinked wide open. Nick’s breath warm against her neck, his eyes focused on her mouth.

Annie’s pulse quickened, and she gulped as Nick got closer. From Annie’s perspective, time itself seemed to slow as if trapped in a beautiful, languid fog; even the snowflakes lingered longer, catching on Nick’s eyelashes as his flushed face moved closer, and Annie’s anticipation rose with each one.

“There’s a little something,” Nick said, his thumb making contact with the corner of her mouth. His hand hovered a moment, hot against her cheek. “Chocolate mixed with snow,” Nick continued, his voice heavy and husky.

Annie’s breath hitched, her heart now speeding up time. She yearned to lean her face a little closer to Nick’s, to test their boundaries, when a sharp sound erupted behind them, followed by a loud, piercing “pfft” noise, reminiscent of a whale experiencing full-fledged, fervent flatulence.

The gigantic inflatable reindeer was rapidly deflating, its limbs tangling themselves in between a stunned Annie and Nick. They yelped in surprise, trying to free themselves as the blinking nose threatened to find and flatten them until, finally, the beast stopped writhing and surrendered in a heap of snow, the red light slowly blinking until it stopped completely.

Annie and Nick finally made eye contact, and all they could do was crack up at the absurdity of witnessing the dramatic death of Rudolph. They both stepped back mid-laugh, trying to center themselves until they could look at each other without immediately breaking.

“I wish I could say that was my only run-in with an inflatable,” Nick chuckled, shaking his head at the adornment’s remains.

“Honestly, that doesn’t surprise me,” Annie teased. “Was it another yard decoration?”

“Actually, it was my senior year when we did Wizard of Oz. The tech team designed the bulk of our hot-air balloon using a series of inflatable pool toys glued and shaped together. We had to pump up each one before every performance. But on closing night, a series of them deflated when the kid playing the Wizard stepped into the basket.”

“Yikes,” Annie said. “Did the show go on?”

“Oh, yeah. Bailey was Dorothy, and she made it seem like the whole thing had been scripted,” Nick recalled fondly.

Annie’s stomach sank. Nick’s eyes were twinkling at the memory.

“She improvised some lines about the best adventures and life lessons happening when things don’t go exactly as planned, and that while there’s no place like home, home is where the heart is, which was where they were in that moment, together among friends.”

“Wow,” Annie murmured, unable to articulate another sound or sentiment.

“She took what should have been an awkward and embarrassing moment and turned it into something lovely; I guess that’s always been Bailey’s charm,” Nick mused.

The way he said Bailey’s name with such earnest admiration was a gut punch; the sharp realization that he was rekindling his relationship with her a slap to Annie’s face. She had been about to kiss Nick only moments before. Thank goodness for Rudolph’s death scene because she would have pointlessly humiliated herself and likely made Nick uncomfortable. It had felt mutually charged, but obviously Annie’s feelings were not reciprocated; Nick still pined for Bailey. Her heart ached, tears threatening. She knew with urgency that she had to get out of the snow and away from the boy next door.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN