Unwrapping Holly

Our host shot my youngest lover the dirtiest of looks. “A fake Christmas tree is fucking blasphemy,” he said. “Might as well install the Yule Log app on your phone and we could sit around watching it, rather than light the fireplace.”

Scraping the last egg off his plate with a fork, Donovan laughed. “I don’t think that’s quite the same thing, bro.”

“Whatever.”

It was truly hilarious, the breakfast conversation so far. We’d debated the power of vampires vs. werewolves, whether or not Tom Cruise actually found (and refuses to disclose the location of) the fountain of youth, and which was more ‘real’ pirates or ninjas. The guys had argued over best pizza toppings, bottled water vs

. tap water, and which of the Rocky movies was the best. The latter at least they agreed upon unanimously: Rocky IV.

“So if you don’t have a tree, let’s go out and get one,” Brody was saying.

Lincoln walked over to the window and yanked the curtains back. “See that?”

“No,” said Brody.

“Exactly. And that’s because it’s whiteout conditions out there. Usually the view from this window is quite beautiful. But right now?” He peered again. “I can’t even see past all the snow caked on the glass.”

Donovan nodded and poured another mug of coffee. “Storm’s supposed to rage all day and into the night. We couldn’t get out if we wanted to, even if we had three shovels.”

Lincoln was still staring out the window. His expression was almost restless. Finally he let go of the curtain and turned back to face us.

“I have two shovels.”

Brody smiled optimistically. He’d slept more than anyone. I could almost feel the energy radiating from his body, like an electric aura.

“Nothing’s gonna be open,” said Donovan. “Trust me. The guy that drove me here said it was going to be the worst storm in—”

“You wanna try to shovel out anyway?”

The words just came out. I didn’t know why I said them, but something about playing outside in the snow with my three boyfriends appealed to me.

“I mean, what else are we gonna do today?”

All three of their gazes turned to me. I sighed and rolled my eyes, but deep in my tummy I felt a warm tingle. “Besides that.”

The soreness between my legs was less pain and more a pleasant reminder of last night. Still, there were three of them now. A little breather certainly wouldn’t hurt, especially if we spent a lot of our energy outside.

“Donovan’s probably right,” Brody said glumly. “Nothing’s going to be open. I guess we could make a snow-tree outside, sort of like a snowman. Sounds lame, but it’s better than—”

“I know a place we could try,” Lincoln interjected. We all looked at him hopefully. “About three miles from here there’s one of those cut-down-your-own Christmas tree farms.” He shrugged. “I know the guy who runs it. Even if it’s closed, we could stuff an envelope in the mailbox. Take what we want, and—”

“I’m not killing a perfectly happy tree,” I jumped in, “just so we can stand it up in your living room for a couple of days.”

“We wouldn’t have to.”

Donovan laughed. “You wanna just decorate it right there, or—”

“No, they have a bunch of pre-cut trees already, for people who aren’t into the whole Clark Griswold thing. We could grab one of those.”

Brody’s eyebrows came together, until we explained to him who Clark Griswold was. When he mentioned he hadn’t seen any of the Vacation movies, everyone groaned.

“So it’s settled?” asked Lincoln. “Dig out, shoot down the road if we can… see if we can make it?”

Brody nodded eagerly, and I found myself following suit. But Donovan crossed his arms.

“And what if we don’t make it?”

Lincoln smirked back at him. “How’s your cardio?”