The hold on his control began to waver as he growled, “I should let you go.” January almost laughed as she felt his grip on her bottom tighten, but disappointment quickly blossomed when his fingers loosened and she slipped down his body until her feet landed on the ground.
January felt bereft as he took a step back, adding space between their two bodies. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks at how she pawed at him shamelessly. Control wasn’t something that January ever lost, she always kept it in check. But she had tunnel vision. There was nothing else at that moment but her and Deckard. She wondered if that was how they would be if they were able to see where things may go, but he was leaving. Soon. As in nine days.
It was going to hurt, she knew that. Because even though Samantha teased her about being attracted to Deckard, once the feelings settled, they blossomed and bloomed at an alarming rate until they wove around each and every muscle and bone in her body.
Love was going to come swiftly if January didn’t keep her emotions locked away.
And when Deckard placed his curved index finger under her chin to tilt her face toward his, January knew fighting their attraction was going to be a lost cause. In just two short days, she knew that the inevitable was going to happen. Now she just had to figure out a way to keep it from hurting too badly when he left.
Deckard sealed his lips over hers once more and wished her a good night as she slipped into her car. As she drove away, January peered into her rearview mirror and watched as he stood stoically in the spot she had just vacated, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat and a smirk gracing his lips.
January didn’t think that there was anything that could ruin her night. It was a perfect date that she had been so hesitant to go on after the last boyfriend debacle. Even though Deckard used a guilt trip to have her join him, she didn’t fight that hard. Her attraction to him left her with tunnel vision.
Pulling up to her house, she was too lost in her memories of kissing Deckard that she missed the Christmas lights strung around the banister of her porch or the white light-up snowman in the yard. It wasn’t until she stepped inside her house that reality struck.
Now, not only did she have a Christmas tree in her house, but she had a mantle covered in a Christmas village and garland. Stockings hung in front of her fireplace. More garland draped around her kitchen island, and the doors in her house were wrapped to look like presents.
It looked like someone came into her house and created her worst nightmare.
Thoughts of Deckard quickly disappeared from her mind as anger grew in their wake. She ripped the wrapping paper off the doors first, balled it up, and threw the scraps in the trash. Next to go were the garland and bows in the kitchen. For every tied bow she had to unravel or taped garland she had to peel away from the granite her temper rose, until January swore she saw red.
She hated that her mother felt that she could force January to partake in anything Christmassy. It was bad enough that every night for the next nine days was going to be overrun with the dreaded holiday cheer that she hated. January wished that she could back out of the traditional events, had even tried before, but that secret yearning to make her parents happy was always present. And there was nothing she could do to tamper that feeling. Seeing them happy made her happy, always.
When January got to her fireplace, she couldn’t bring herself to dismantle the Christmas village; it was her mother’s old set, the one she used to admire as a little girl. She would spend hours watching the little magnetic figurines move
along the streets or skate on the plastic ice.
The heaviness of the moment settled on January’s shoulders and her anger began to dissipate.
“Damn,” she murmured, walking over to the couch and settling on the cushions. Looking around her living room, January decided she could deal with how it looked until Christmas, then she could take it all down the minute she woke.
From the corner of her eye, the green gift box caught her attention and she reached over to the coffee table to grab it.
Now she wished she hadn’t left the star ornament on her kitchen counter, but it wasn’t her fault that her mother ruined the surprise of the gift.
Opening the lid, January reached inside, lifted the snowflake from its confines, and read the inscription once again.
“Make a wish, huh?” she asked aloud.
“Well, I wish that there was no Christmas. I wish that Deckard wasn’t leaving. I wish that we had a chance to see where things could go. I wish that my mother would stop barging into my house when I’m not home,” she said as if she were asking a genie to grant her three wishes.
In her bag, January heard her phone chime and she blindly snatched it. A message flashed on the screen
Samantha: Meant to tell you that I signed us up for the secret Santa gift exchange.
Great, she thought as she tossed her phone back on the couch.
Remembering the snowflake still resting in her palm January stood from the couch and marched toward the small table beside the Christmas tree where she hid all the Christmas cards she received. With a tug, the drawer opened and she placed the snowflake on top of the papers, then prepared to shut it. But then sadness pushed through her at the thought of hiding such a beautiful piece that someone painstakingly crafted. It didn’t deserve to hide away in a drawer.
Slipping the ribbon between her fingers, January carried the piece to the Christmas tree and found a branch along the top that was still bare.
Quietly January whispered, “I wish there was no Christmas,” and placed the ornament on the tree, rolling her eyes at the small piece of paper hanging on the ribbon as it caught her eye.
“My wishes never came true before and I seriously doubt they’ll start now,” she said skeptically to the empty room as if the snowflake would answer.
With a deep breath, January turned off the lights around her house, grabbed her phone, and got herself ready for bed.
As she stripped herself free of her clothes, she dove under the sheets, not even caring that she was only wearing a pair of panties.