Not Another Christmas Movie

Authour's Note:

This is my contribution to the 2019 Winter Holidays contest. I hope you enjoy! Special thanks to norafares and Pixel The Cat for editing on a rush so I could get this posted. You are the best!

This story is a Christmas romance. Put on some carols and sit back to enjoy my take on a cheesy Christmas movie, featuring the cynical but lovable Nicki as she meets the handsome, Christmas-obsessed Cole. This story features love, cynicism, tragedy, gratuitous erotic scenes, and peppermint hot chocolate.

**

I love you and you love me
And that's the way it's got to be
I knew it from the start
'Cause Christmas ain't the time for breaking each other's heart
Merry Christmas, I don't want to fight tonight with you
—Merry Christmas (I Don't Want To Fight Tonight), The Ramones

I never thought it was such a bad little tree. It's not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love.
—A Charlie Brown Christmas, 1965

*

Christmas Eve 2015

It was the last thing I set up each year: the Christmas village.

Oh, sure, the majority of it was set up for the entirety of December. But each year, I treated myself to a new piece. It was a collectible set, incredibly popular, and the most precious thing I owned. I would dream about the next thing to add: one year, it was the toy shop. Another, the post office. Townspeople, a tiny skating rink, lamp posts, mailboxes. It grew a little more every year.

That year, it was the town Christmas tree. I had been dying to get that piece. It was my favourite one, but by far the most rare. Beautifully crafted, it had working lights and little icicles hanging off the tiny branches. After years of trying to find it, it was finally mine.

I couldn't contain my smile as I placed it in the center of the Christmas village. The previous year, the village had grown so large that I had to buy a new console table just to display it. It sat in front of our living room window, the snowy yard beyond a perfect backdrop for my tiny wonderland.

Everything was perfect.

The candles were lit. The room was scented with chocolate, peppermint, and pine from the fresh tree in the corner. Aside from those flickering candle flames, light twinkled off the shiny baubles hanging on the tree. I hadn't been able to convince Frank to install a real wood-burning fireplace in the living room, so the yellow glow was artificial, but it still lent a beautiful backdrop to the red stockings hung on the mantel.

Each year I tried to make our house look like something out of a Hallmark movie, and I was certain I'd knocked it out of the park that year. My decorations were beautiful, classy without being garish. There were festively decorated cookies on the ceramic plate sitting on the coffee table next to cups of peppermint hot chocolate, and the hum of soft carols filled the room. Instead of the cozy flannel pyjamas I usually wore on Christmas Eve, I was wearing a little gift I'd gotten for Frank. Lacy, with red and white trim, it covered just enough skin to be considered clothing.

I couldn't wait for Frank to come home. Since the calendar turned to December, I had hardly seen my boyfriend. There were Christmas events to go to, gifts to buy, presents to wrap, charitable services to perform; that was just my schedule. Frank had been working constantly, coming home late almost every night and leaving before I woke up each morning. He worked so hard, my Frank.

But that was over. The next day was Christmas, and Frank wouldn't be working. We would wake up, exchange gifts, giggle and cuddle and maybe fuck under the Christmas tree, and then I would get to work preparing Christmas dinner. Our parents were both set to come over sometime in the afternoon, we'd have a huge meal and lots of drinks, and that would be it for another year.

I curled up on the couch, pulling my favourite plaid Christmas blanket over me as I turned on a cheesy Hallmark movie. I wasn't sure what time Frank would be home, but I wanted to be ready and waiting for him when he was. I sent him a quick text —Can't wait to see you. Surprise for you when you get home. xoxo. But mostly xxx—and bit my lip in excitement.

Everything was perfect.

The movie was cute, full of Christmas magic and unrealistic drama. As predictable as it was, I was charmed by the silliness of it all. At some point before the ending, I fell asleep, dozing lightly on the couch while I waited for Frank. My plan had been to listen for the sound of his car, then move under the tree so when he walked in, he'd see me waiting for him.

But he was late. Really, really late that night.

The closing of the door woke me up, and when I opened my eyes, he was standing at the entrance to the living room. The room was dim, lit only by the decorations and the fireplace, and I couldn't quite see the expression on his face.

I smiled, hoping I still looked sexy. "Hey, darling. Merry Christmas."

He chuckled, a dry sort of laugh.

"I missed you," I said, pushing the plaid blanket off and shivering as the chill of the air hit my revealed skin. I stood up, letting Frank take in the sight of me in the skimpiest lingerie I'd been able to find.

He didn't say anything.

"Are you all right?"

Again, that dry chuckle.

"Frank, what's wrong?"

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

I recoiled at his words, slurred harshly at me from across the room.

"Are you drunk?"

"Oh, fuck off, Nicki."

My mouth dropped open. "What? What did I do?"

"What did you do? What did you do. Oh Nicki, what the fuck didn't you do. Look at this goddamn place."

I glanced around. Everything was still in place. I looked back at him. "I don't know what you mean."

"This house! It's like an explosion of Christmas shit! Look at this—what the fuck is this?"

He stormed into the room and picked up the tree I'd gotten for the Christmas village.

"Look at this. What a waste of fucking money. What'd you have to pay for this piece of shit, huh?"

"I don't understand why you're upset. Where is this coming from?"

He laughed again, slamming the tree back down on the table. I winced as two of the townspeople went flying, one crashing to the floor.

"Of course you don't understand. Every goddamn year. December rolls around, and you turn into Santa's jolliest fucking elf and I don't see you for the entire month. You go to every party, spend a shit ton of money, and then have the fucking audacity to stand there and say you don't understand why I'm upset."

I sputtered, completely disarmed by his words.

"Spit it out, girl! What is it? I-i-i-i can't?" he mocked.

"Why are you being so mean?"

"'Why are you being so mean?'" he repeated in a nasal voice. "Fuck off, Nicki. You're a whore for Christmas. Look at you. Dressed up like a slut, thinking I'm going to come in here and fuck you after you've been completely out of my life for almost a month. You think that's normal? You think it's normal for people to be so goddamn enamoured by a fucking holiday that they don't see their boyfriend for a month?"

"Frank, just calm down. We can fix this."

"Fix it? How the fuck are you going to fix it? Throw some goddamn tinsel on it and say it's better?"

"You're upset. Maybe we should talk in the morning."

"Answer the fucking question!" He stormed across the room and I winced, drawing back towards the couch. He stopped on the other side of the coffee table, an arm's length away. "Do you fucking think it's normal?"

"Y-you've been w-working—"

"We haven't fucked in a month, Nicki, you think that's normal?"

"You haven't been home!"

"Neither have you!"

"Frank, I'm sorry! I was just—"

"I don't give a shit if you're sorry! It's too fucking late for sorry!"

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Tears were spilling down my face. I could smell the alcohol rolling off him, even from where I stood. Each word blew a wave of whiskey-scented air in my direction.

"Because you haven't been home!"

"Are you seriously this pissed because you haven't gotten laid for a month?"

He burst out laughing. "Oh, I've gotten laid, just not with you, you fucking frigid bitch."

I couldn't speak. My stomach was free-falling, turning over and over again as his words echoed in my mind.

"You are goddamn obnoxious," he said. "All of it. These decorations are obnoxious. This fucking candle—what the fuck is this, Santa shat in a bowl and you lit it on fire? You're obsessed with Christmas and it is fucking obnoxious, Nicki, I can't take it anymore."

"You're cheating on me?"

He stopped, suddenly realizing what he had said. His mouth was open, but nothing came out.

"You're cheating on me, you think I'm obnoxious, and you're telling me all this on Christmas Eve."

"There it is again, Christmas-Christmas-Christmas," he muttered.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out, Frank. Get the fuck out of my house."

"It's our house."

"Get out!" I shrieked. I picked up the closest thing to me—one of the cookies off the ceramic plate—and threw it at him. "Get the fuck out, get out! I never want to see you again."

He dodged the cookie. "It's Christmas Eve, where am I supposed to go?"

I threw another cookie, and it hit him on the shoulder. "I don't give a shit. Get out!"

He took a step back as I threw another, then another. Then the plate.

It smashed on the floor, shattering loudly. I screamed, and cried, and screamed some more, until he finally left the room and the house, slamming the door behind him.

Once Frank was gone, my destruction didn't have a target. I tore garland off the railings. Collectibles went flying, figurines and decorations smashing on the floors and the walls. I knocked the tree over, listening to the decorations crunch as they broke, kicking it until the branches broke off.

Then the Christmas village. I shoved it to the floor, all but the town tree, which I picked up and hurled at the fireplace. It hit the mantel, exploding into a shower of expensive, obnoxious dust.

You're obnoxious, he said.

Sobbing, I blew out the candles. The scent was making me sick. It was obnoxious.

**

2018

Have you ever told someone they have a weird smile?

I had a friend growing up who had a weird smile. One corner of her mouth turned up higher than the other, and her lips kind of overlapped. It was charming, to be honest. Weirdness like that is what makes people beautiful and unique.

But when we were in middle school, this boy she liked told her she had a weird smile. He wasn't trying to be mean, at least not intentionally. But his ignorance had a lasting effect. To this day, she covers her mouth when she smiles. I didn't notice it at first. We were in high school when someone asked her why she put a hand to her mouth every time she smiled. She shrugged it off and lightly said that she didn't like her smile, but there was a shadow of heartbreak in her eyes when she looked away.

What I'm trying to say here is that words scar us. The most beautiful thing about someone can become a source of shame when it's pointed out in a negative light. It was so ingrained in my friend's head that she had a weird smile that she couldn't bring herself to show it to people.

Frank did that to me with Christmas.

The year after we broke up, I tried to be my regular self, full of Christmas spirit and cheer. I tried to go to the events and parties and bake cookies for everyone. But in the back of my mind, Frank's words echoed.

Obnoxious.

Obnoxious.

Obnoxious.

I never replaced the decorations. Whatever hadn't been broken, I had left in the house before I moved out. My mom had gotten a few things for me to decorate my new place with, but I'd given them to neighbours. Frank had destroyed any love I had for the season.

The year after that, I quit my job and started freelancing as a public relations consultant. The work took me everywhere, and I wasn't in town for Christmas that year. Or the next, which was the year I met Cole.

I was working for an accounting firm, helping them navigate through a PR disaster after some high ranking staff members were caught toeing the line between ethics and illegal activity. Most of the fallout had blown over by the time I started with them, and I was charged with helping repair the firm's reputation. Straightforward enough, though there was a lot of work to be done during the four-month contract I had signed.

My desk was in a kind of no-man's land between the break room and HR. At first, I had been annoyed by the placement. Most of the places I consulted for gave me an office, or at the very least, a private corner somewhere to do my work. But the PR team was an afterthought and they didn't have a real space set up.

"This isn't going to work," I said to Angela. She was one of the VPs and had come to my desk to welcome me on the first day in late September. "How am I supposed to handle calls and get anything done with people coming and going all the time?"

"I know it's not great, but it's just temporary," she said.

"It's pointless. Your firm has contracted me to help with this fiasco, but if you won't give me the proper tools..."

I trailed off as I spoke. Angela took it as a threat, and began stuttering about finding a better space, but in actuality I had gotten distracted by a tall drink of water making his way down the hall.

The man was astoundingly attractive, like breathtakingly so. Dark hair, styled neatly but not so perfectly as to make him look stuck up. Well-fitting suit, but no necktie. Dark eyes, deep and gorgeous and intense. The only thing that marred his perfect face was a large but barely noticeable scar that ran along his cheek, parallel to his jawline. And that smile. Some people have those smiles that just... well.

The second I saw him, I wanted him. I didn't know anything about him, but I wanted to jump on him like a dehydrated person would jump into water.

He was talking to someone, a somber-looking woman wearing an ill-fitting skirt suit. As he spoke, her face flushed and she nodded eagerly. He flashed that smile at her again and she tottered down the hallway towards us, seemingly intoxicated by the man's presence.

If Angela caught me staring at him, she didn't say anything, but she turned towards the man. "Cole! Hey, can you come here a sec?"

Just like that, he was striding down the hall towards us. My stomach flipped as he approached.

"Morning, Ang. What can I help with?"

Angela turned back to me. "Nicki, this is Cole Shepherd. He's one of our HR managers. Cole, this is Nicki Calina, our contract PR consultant. Maybe there's something he can do to help us with this little problem."

HR manager. My eyes flicked down the hallway, where the HR department was conveniently located.

"You know, maybe it'll be okay," I murmured.

"Well, what's going on? Maybe there's an easy solution." His voice was friendly, and approachable. It was perfect for an HR manager, smooth and calming and infuriatingly sincere. I wondered what he would sound like directing me to get on my knees and—

"We're just concerned about her desk location. She makes a great point. How can we expect excellent PR services if she's in a busy hallway?" Angela had leaned on the edge of my desk, posing in an almost-unnatural way. It was good to know that Cole's presence didn't affect just me and the woman in the skirt suit.

"I might just be overreacting," I said hurriedly.

"Not at all," Cole said. "I think Facilities mentioned something about a spare room on the fifth floor. If I'm remembering correctly, it was meant to be a new space for IT, but maybe—"

"Oh, I don't want to put anyone out." I could feel heat rising in my cheeks.

"Are you sure?" asked Angela. "As we said in the interview, we are taking this very seriously and we want to make sure you have everything you need."

I twirled my pen as both Cole and Angela looked at me. "You know, maybe just if there's somewhere quiet I can use to make calls when I have to give statements? A spare boardroom or something?"

"Absolutely," Cole said. "I'll let Larissa know that you have full access to the HR boardroom whenever you need it. If it's booked or being used, use my office. I'm just down the hall, three doors past the boardroom."

"That's perfect." I tried not to stutter and flashed what I hoped was a winning smile.

"Wonderful. So glad this will work. If we find any other spaces that might work, I'll be sure to let everyone know that PR is the priority for it," Angela said.

"That's great." Cole grinned and I nearly melted in my chair. "I have to run to a meeting, but I'm sure I'll see you regularly, Nicki."

"Every time you walk down the hallway!" I tried not to cringe at the cheery ridiculousness that came out of my mouth.

Luckily, Cole laughed and extended his hand. "You bet. Nice to meet you, and welcome to the team."

I shook his hand, trying not to imagine what his fingers would feel like against literally any other part of me, and put on the most professional tone I could muster.

"Just temporarily. I'm here on contract until the end of December."

After he and Angela left, I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. Cole had me feeling all sorts of things, and none of them were remotely work-appropriate. Not to mention, he was an HR manager. It's one of those good life rules that everyone should follow: never develop a work crush on the fucking HR manager. Guess what their job is? Dealing with people who can't keep it in their pants at work. It's a crush that's doomed to be either tragic or unrequited.

I resolved to remain professional and ignore any inklings of feelings, appropriate or otherwise, towards Cole. I planned to treat him the same way I would any other staff member, and there wouldn't be any problems.

That plan lasted all of a day.

On my second day of work, Cole stopped by my desk.

"Morning, Nicki! Enjoying yourself?"

I smiled politely, refused to imagine what that question would sound like with his head between my legs, and nodded.

"It's been great, thanks. How are you?"

Cole smiled. "Another day in paradise. Listen, I know you've met the execs and the PR team, but I wanted to make sure you also meet some of your other colleagues. The day-to-day people you'll be around. Would you be up for having lunch with me and meeting some people?"

"That sounds awesome. Do you eat out?"

I tried not to gag on my words as they left my mouth without consulting my brain.

"I mean, go out for lunch. Or eat here. In the break room. I brought a lunch with me, I didn't know if there was much to go for around here and I don't really know anyone so wasn't sure who to ask. You know? Just... just not sure."

Cole was probably a decent HR manager, but his poker face was shit. The sparkle in his eyes was apparent as he fought not to laugh at my Freudian slip and subsequent rambling.

"I was going to order something in, as a little 'welcome to the team' gift," he said when I finally stopped talking. "Any preferences?"

"Nope."

By lunch that day, I had gotten a hold of myself just enough to prevent any further embarrassment. The next morning, he stopped by my desk again.

"Morning, Nicki! How goes the grind?"

"Good, thanks. How are you?"

"Ready for another day in HR paradise. Hey, just so you know, on Wednesdays they bring doughnuts in for the afternoon coffee break." He winked conspiratorially. "Pop by my office and let me know when they get dropped off?"

I couldn't keep myself from grinning. "Deal."

As soon as I saw Larissa, the receptionist for our floor, enter the break room with a stack of pink boxes, I slid out from my desk and popped my head into Cole's office.

"Knock, knock," I said, then cringed. "I don't know why I did that. I could have just knocked, I guess."