Page 52 of Not Another Christmas Movie

“Oh, the same, we were discussing Christmas stuff, he was vague and unhelpful … Wait, what do you want for Christmas? Maybe he was trying to offer you some kind of hint,” Nick said.

“Maybe,” Annie pondered. “I didn’t exactly have a Christmas list this year. I was going to spend the day in a consistent, comfortable buzzed haze on my parents’ couch. What did you have planned for Christmas? Other than that bloody Santa chair thing,” Annie asked.

“I wasn’t finished with that!” Nick huffed.

“So do you have a Christmas wish?” Annie asked, needing to reroute their conversation back to decoding the Felix mystery.

“Well,” Nick said, a tangle of red growing up his neck like roots in undergrowth.

“Nick.” Annie’s voice was sharper now and full of warning. “Why do I now get the sense you made some kind of wish that got us stuck here?”

“I just, um …” Nick trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Nick!” Annie yelled.

“I didn’t want to spend the holiday alone,” Nick said, looking Annie right in her eyes, freezing them both in place. Before Annie could ask follow-up questions, Bailey sprang out of nowhere (though likely it was through a hedge), like a tiny firework.

“Nick!” she exclaimed. “Thank goodness I found you! There’s been an emergency with the set! Some volunteers borrowed one of the show’s backdrops for a booth display, and the snow destroyed it.”

“Which one?” Nick asked, more quizzical than concerned.

“The canvas with the night sky. I’d go myself, but the bakery is in crisis; we ran out of red and green sprinkles. The snowflake ones don’t stand out next to the marshmallows! Chris is wrapped up with Christmas tree sales, so he can’t go either.”

“I’ll go,” Nick assured her. “It’s ‘snow’ problem,” He finished with a smile, and Annie rolled her eyes, wondering if anyone had ever died from a pun overdose (may they rest in wreaths).

“Thank you, Nick,” Bailey said, finally letting out a loud, relieved breath and hugging him with grateful arms. “You’re the best. I’ll make it up to you, okay? Hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and sprinkles.”

“Happy to do it,” Nick said as Bailey fluttered back to the bakery booth.

“I don’t think she noticed I was here,” Annie remarked.

“Let’s go. And before you say no, what else are you going to do?” Nick gave her shoulder a gentle nudge, and it sent an unexpected zing down Annie’s arm. She knew what she should do: she should wait for Chris to finish whatever tree business he had and get the man to try and kiss her already. “It won’t take long, we’ll be right back,” Nick added as if reading her thoughts. Annie gave him a shrug and wordlessly followed him across the street to the doors of the school.

“They don’t bother to lock up the place?” Annie asked as they easily breezed their way inside through the dim hallway to the auditorium. The building was still, and there was something rather thrilling about being left to their own devices in such a large space usually filled to the brim with children and community events.

Nick switched the work lights on backstage and swiftly pulled out a partially decorated canvas backdrop. There was already some semblance of the night sky and a sketch of Victorian-era London-aged brick buildings, standing tall and narrow, atop a cobblestone street. It was almost as if someone had prepared a backup backdrop that only needed minimal effort to complete. Annie had a sneaking suspicion that the made-for-TV Christmas movie gods had orchestrated this whole debacle, though she didn’t know why.

Nick taped a large blue tarp to the floor and draped the canvas over it alongside an arrangement of paints and brushes. Annie watched in curiosity, unable to keep her eyes off his skilled hands that moved with gentle confidence as he filled the canvas with a dark blue sky in swirls of color. The action was hypnotizing, and Annie reveled in observing Nick in his true comfort zone.

“You can help me with the stars,” Nick said, looking up at her from the floor.

“Is that a good idea? I’m not great with art, and you seem to have it all under control,” Annie said, though she did secretly yearn to paint next to him. It looked fun, and maybe if she distracted her hands, she’d have better control of her thoughts.

Nick handed her a wooden brush and motioned for her to kneel next to him. He demonstrated a simple series of yellow strokes and then used a lighter shade to mark a halo light around the shape, completing the first star.

“You try,” Nick encouraged, and Annie hesitantly dipped into the paint, taking a tentative first brushstroke. “Don’t be scared, you’re doing great,” Nick said, and Annie tried to channel her inner artist. “Be honest, working on the show has been kind of fun, don’t you think?” Nick asked after a few stars had been marked.

“For you, maybe, this is your career! Your passion,” Annie smiled.

“Ah, I see it making a little home in your heart too, you can’t hide it,” Nick told her, sneaking small peeks her way as they continued to paint.

“Sure, maybe. You could say I don’t despise A Christmas Carol like I thought I did, and working on the play hasn’t been the total torture I assumed it would be,” Annie relented, focusing on the halo portion of her latest star.

“The theater is a welcoming place; I’m glad you’ve found a way to us,” Nick said.

“Let’s not go that far, buddy. I only admitted that this experience hasn’t been all agony,” Annie said. “Why didn’t you want to do more acting onstage? Don’t you want to work that money maker?” Annie asked, gesturing to Nick’s face.

“My money maker likes the behind-the-scenes work most of all,” Nick said with a laugh. “I love how all the little parts come together into something greater than all of us. It’s magic. Plus, I was roped into a bunch of roles back in high school because we only had a handful of guys who consistently did shows, especially during crew or lacrosse season. I think you may have missed out on a lot of cool theater kids,” Nick said.