Rebel Without A Claus

They were the last entry.

Thank God.

The twins skirted out of the door with their parents in hot pursuit, leaving us to breathe in a second of silence for the first time in hours. It’d been busy all night, and we’d barely been able to take ten seconds to glug down some water.

I was grateful for it, of course. It meant the grotto was successful, despite the previous odds that had been stacked against us, but it was tiring.

Very tiring.

The last thing I wanted to do tonight was wrap up and go out to the fair to see the lights be officially turned on, but I’d promised Erin I’d be there.

This was what happened when I tried to be a good person and friend. It backfired on me.

I bid goodbye to Demi and Alana, swiftly sending them on their way after checking they would be okay to get to their cars. As it turned out, they were both going to see the lights be switched on and their friends were meeting them here, so they were fine.

At least someone was.

I changed in the back room and stepped out when Nicholas was done. I removed the memory card from the camera, switched it with yesterday’s now blank one, and tucked the one from today into my purse. I’d give it to Mom to clear and print the pictures when I got home.

“Ready to go?” Nicholas asked me, tugging his hat down over his ears.

“Mmph.” I wound my scarf around my neck and tucked it under my coat.

“You really are a real grinch, aren’t you?”

I rolled my eyes as we left. “I don’t understand why I’m a grinch just because I don’t buy into the commerciality of Christmas.”

“Or Mariah Carey.”

“Or Mariah Carey,” I agreed. “Sometimes Wham! too. They piss me off.”

He dipped his head, but I caught the curve of his lips before he pressed his face into his scarf. “Is there anything about Christmas you do like?”

This seemed like a very slippery slope.

“I’m not falling for that.”

“Falling for what?” He looked up and laughed. “It’s a genuine question. You hate the snow, you hate decorating, you hate the commercialism, you hate Christmas music.”

“Hate is a very strong word.”

“There’s not a single thing about Christmas yet that you’ve shown you like.”

I sighed. “I… like… things.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not falling for it,” I repeated. “If I tell you the things I like, you’ll take them and torture me with them.”

He shook his head. “I am not a radio presenter with a Mariah obsession. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fine. Tell me one thing—just one—that you like about Christmas, and I won’t ever bring it up again.”

I side-eyed him. I didn’t trust him not to do that. He wanted to know too much. “Absolutely not. You’ll beat me over the head with it. I’m not telling you.”

“Oh, come on. One thing. Will it kill you?”

“I don’t know but it’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Quinn.”

“Oh, my God.” I stepped to the side to avoid a slush pit on the sidewalk. My foot slipped and I nudged into him. “I’m not willingly giving you information that you can and will use against me.”

He laughed, tucking my hand in his elbow. “So you don’t fall.”

“Bullshit,” I muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

He was so not funny.

I spotted Erin near the German waffle stand, staring at her phone.

Oh no. If Oscar had stood her up, I was going to kill him.

“There’s Erin.” I unhooked my hand from Nicholas’s arm and slipped through the crowd to where she was standing. “Hey.”

She looked up. “Hey. You’re earlier than I thought you’d be.”

“It doesn’t take us long to close up when we’re together,” I replied. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Oscar is running late at work. He should have been here twenty minutes ago.” She rolled her eyes. “He said he’s on his way, so we’ll see.”

“Ugh. I don’t want to have to break his nose.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Another eye roll. “I said I’d meet him here by the waffle stand.”

“Does that mean I have time to get waffles?”

“Do you think about anything other than waffles?” She glanced up behind me. “Hey, Nick.”

“Hi, Erin. Did I hear something about waffles?”

Shit.

I was thisclose to being found out.

Erin peered at me. “The bottomless pit over here wants waffles.”

“Bottomless pit? I haven’t eaten in hours. I’ve been more festive than Mariah fucking Carey.”

“Oh, give it a rest with Mariah! She doesn’t have a personal vendetta against you!”

“That’s what you say.”

“Mariah does not care about you.”

“Evidently, that’s why I have to keep hearing her freaking son.”

Nicholas looked at me. “Can I safely deduct that the waffles are one thing you like about Christmas?”

See?

Found out.

I was going to kill Erin.

“Absolutely not,” I replied, getting in line.

They both laughed behind me, and I shot a glare over my shoulder.

“I’m not letting you use this against me!”