Best Friends Don't Kiss

Sure, I can see that Ava is downright beautiful. She’s amazing, but anyone with two fucking eyes and a brain can see that.

And, obviously, I love spending time with her.

But that doesn’t mean I have a thing for her.

Says the man who didn’t hesitate to pull her over and introduce her as his girlfriend when another woman was coming on to him…December 13th

Ava“Pivot!” I shout toward Luke, giving my best Ross Geller impression, as I grip the top of the burlap- and rope-covered Christmas tree and lug it up the steps of our building. He stands at the bottom, carrying most of the weight, and to be honest, I’m here mostly for looks and entertainment value.

Normally, we’d, you know, take the elevator, but it’s on the fritz…again.

“Pivot! Pivot!” I yell over my shoulder as I round the corner and hit the second flight of stairs.

Luke’s jaw goes hard and serious, and somehow, I think my value as an entertainer is decreasing.

“I swear to God, if you say pivot one more time, I’m going to drop this tree and let it slide back down to the lobby. And then I’m going to take it outside and light the damn thing on fire.”

I giggle. “Pivot!”

“Ace!” Luke exclaims, his voice exasperated, but also, I can hear a teeny-tiny hint of a smile.

“I’m just trying to help you.”

He looks up the stairs and meets my eyes, his hands still gripping the bottom of the tree. “You’re trying to annoy me.”

“I can’t help it if those two things are parallel objectives.” I stop in the middle of the staircase and shrug. “You’re really funny when you get all irritated.”

“Can we keep it moving?” he questions. “I mean, after dragging this sad excuse for a tree halfway across the city, I’d like to get it into your apartment sometime today.”

I don’t move an inch. “Sad excuse for a tree? Luke London, you’re going to hurt Billy Bob’s feelings.”

My tree is a little sparse, but what he lacks in full, lush pine, he makes up for in spirit.

“Yeah, well, your pine friend Billy Bob is making my hands bleed. Surely, he can take a little ribbing.”

“I think you need to apologize to the tree, Luke. It’s not his fault you didn’t bring gloves.”

“I think you need to move your little ass up the stairs,” he retorts.

When I still don’t move, Luke jumps right into action, readjusting his position so he can lift the top of the tree from my hands and toss the whole damn thing over his shoulder.

“Christ,” he mutters and moves up the stairs with ease.

I fight the urge to giggle and follow his lead.

And, because I can’t help myself, I shout “Pivot!” every time he has to round a corner and start a new flight of stairs.

By the time we make it into my apartment, Luke is beyond annoyed with me.

On a huff, he sets the tree against the wall beside the large windows of my living room and strides right toward me, lifting my whole body up and over his shoulder.

I squeal.

With me in a firefighter’s carry, he stomps around my apartment, exclaiming, “Pivot, Ace! Pivot!”

“Oh my God, Luke!” I shout. “Put me down!”

“Put you where?” he questions and spins to the right, then to the left.

“Down! Put me down, you crazy person!”

“Over here?” He moves toward the couch.

“Yes!”

“Right here? On the couch?”

“Oh my God! Yes!”

“Oh, okay,” he says and unceremoniously drops me onto my sectional sofa, and my purse flies off my shoulder as my body bounces up and down on the cushions.

“You’re a lunatic,” I mutter through a few giggles, brushing my blond hair out of my face.

Luke just grins down at me, his hands resting firmly on his hips. “I just carried your tree fifteen blocks, and you’re calling me names.”

“Yes, lunatic. But thank you. I very much appreciate that.” I wink and stand up from the couch to unwrap the burlap and rope from my tree.

Once Billy Bob—whom I named after the Billy Bob Thornton from Bad Santa—is completely unwrapped and all set up in front of the windows, I stand back and take in the view.

“He’s glorious.”

Luke wraps his arm around my shoulders and scoffs. “I hate to break it to ya, Ace, but he makes Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree look good.”

I slap him in the stomach, but by the way he laughs, I’d say my playful efforts have all the intensity of a gnat.

“So, now what do we do?”

“We decorate him, silly,” I reply and nudge his hip with mine.

“I know that’s what we’d do with a traditional tree. But Billy Bob?” He shakes his head. “He’ll hold what…two, maybe three ornaments, tops?”

“You’re such a grinch,” I mutter. Conveniently, I brought up the box of ornaments and tinsel and garland and lights from basement storage earlier this morning—read: I made Luke bring it up this morning—so I head right for it and get to work.