“Of course,” he shrugs, “it wouldn’t be a win without proof. This year will be especially fun,” he winks at me, his hand at the small of my back as we begin to wander through the store.
“Oh yeah? And why is that?” I tease.
“Because I’ve never had a sweater buddy before, we’ve got to find you one too,” he turns, sliding his arms around my waist right there in the middle of the store. “But this is not just your basic ugly sweater, Freya,” Ricky kisses my nose. “We need to look for something monumentally hideous.” Oh boy.
“Monumentally hideous, huh, is that the level after just plain ugly?”
“Absolutely,” he laughs, his arms dropping away as he takes my hand and pulls me in the direction of the clothing section. I gamely dig in, wanting to come through with a great find. We paw through the shelves and racks, occasionally holding up sweaters for the other to look at, building a fairly respectable ‘maybe’ pile.
“Well this is so ugly it should be illegal,” I snicker, pulling a sweater off a shelf and holding it up for him to see.
“Oh nice, it looks like the 80’s and the old west had a baby...is that...fringe I see?”
“You bet it is,” I nod, smoothing the sleeve and flipping the sweater so that he can see the back, “and just look at the little reindeer butts!”
“I think that one’s a winner, who doesn’t like a little butt?” I smile at him and then turn back to the shelf as a sweater at the bottom of the same pile catches my eye.
“Oh, Ricky, look at this!” I gasp excitedly. He turns, curious, to see me holding up the same garish sweater.
“Yeah, I think you should have that one,” he nods, confused, “it’s perfect.”
“No, no, look, this one is in your size,” I can’t keep the satisfied glee out of my voice. “I found the ugly sweater holy grail...a matched set.” He stands there stunned for a moment, staring as I hold up both sweaters to prove that they exist in a pair.
“Game. Over.” Ricky deadpans, breaking into a wide smile.
12
Enrique
“You want me to...sing?” Freya squeaks, her eyes wide.
After we found our ugly sweaters, we walked the Main Street a little longer, stopping to buy cookies from a church group and enjoying the lights. Freya laughed when I steered her to the bar and then froze when she saw the karaoke sign just inside the door.
“Yep, I signed us up, don’t be a chicken,” I tease, handing her one of the beers I’m holding. “Item number one on my Christmas bucket list is a duet of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland.” Freya’s eyes narrow suspiciously.
“Oh really? Since when?” She gives me a challenging look, taking a long swallow of her beer.
“Wellllll, I wrote that list just after lunch when I saw that the bar was having Christmas Karaoke Night,” I admit, shrugging. Freya watches my shoulders when they move, distracted and I smile. I think she’s got a thing for shoulders, so, yeah, that was on purpose.
“Um, singing,” she muses, jolting out of her little pause and meeting my eyes. Spots of pink appear on each of her cheeks. Yes darlin’, I caught you.
“Singing.” I confirm with a nod, holding up my beer and tapping it to hers with a clink.
“Well, here’s to liquid courage,” Freya jokes, taking another long drink of beer.
Our turn is announced and I pretend to be dragging her up to the front and she bursts into peals of nervous laughter. The song begins and we sing together. My voice is fine, definitely good enough for bar karaoke. Freya’s is predictably beautiful. High and clear she starts softly and then gets louder as she relaxes. When the song ends we get some appreciative hoots and hollers from the crowd and Freya does a little curtsy, laughing.
When we reach our table, she drops into her chair, breathless and excited.
“I had no idea that was so much fun! I’ve always been too scared to try it and Scott would never…” she trails off, suddenly uncomfortable as she glances around, trying to decide what to say next.
“Well from what little you’ve told me, your ex was an asshole,” I comment mildly and she snorts out a tiny laugh, “so it would stand to reason he wouldn’t really know how to have fun.” I stand up from the table, tapping her beer. “Another?”
A light snow is falling when we leave the bar, and Freya sighs happily. Tucking her arm in mine, she gives it a squeeze.
“This was a really good Christmas Eve,” she whispers.
“The best.” I agree, hoping it’s not over.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to sleep at my house tonight.”
My heart sinks at her words, but it’s probably just so that she can get ready in her own house tomorrow, make some phone calls to family in the morning, or maybe she’s not actually as into me as I am her…
“Yeah, of course, I’ll drive you home,” I keep my voice light, hiding my disappointment. I wanted to be her big spoon on Christmas morning.
“Oh, no, that’s not, I mean…let me say that again,” Freya stops on the sidewalk, looking up at me. “Will you spend tonight at my home with me?” She twists her hands, looking absolutely perfect. “I kind of have a plan of my own.”
“Ugly sweaters, karaoke and a secret plan? This day just keeps on giving,” I lean down, kissing her upturned lips. Taking her hand, I tuck it back under my arm and we walk to the brewery. I give Freya a hand into my truck and turn on the engine, getting the heat flowing, before I go inside. Heading upstairs, I quickly throw everything I’ll need for tomorrow in a bag and then go to the kitchen. Carefully getting the cake out of the fridge, I put it in a handy box. I wrap the bottle of bourbon in a dish towel, set it next to the cake and fold the flaps of the box shut.
Freya’s eyes light up with curiosity when I set the box carefully on the back seat of the truck and toss my bag in beside it.
“Just something for tomorrow,” I try to be nonchalant and it works, she nods and turns to face forward, humming along with the radio. I jump in the truck and make the short drive to her house carefully as the snow falls harder.
Freya unlocks her door and I pause to kick off my boots before following her down a short hall that opens to the living room. A large Christmas tree twinkles in the corner, providing the only light in the room. Freya moves away from me and goes to the fireplace, pressing a button at the side of the mantle. With a small woosh the fireplace starts, complete with a merry crackling sound as the gas log begins to heat the room.
Two pillows and two sleeping bags that have been unzipped to make one larger bag are set up with the pillows almost under the tree. Moving closer I see that there are clothes neatly folded on each pillow.
“Freya, even after everything we’ve done tonight, I think you win best Christmas cliche’ if those are matching pajamas.” I laugh as she raises both arms in a ‘goal’ motion.
“Nailed it! Please tell me you’ll put them on for one picture under the tree?” She pleads, gasping happily when I drop my shirt on the floor and my hands head for the button on my jeans. “I was thinking tomorrow morning, but now is good...really good,” she whispers, her eyes on my hands. She walks over to me, dropping her vest on the floor and swiftly pulling her sweater over her head, her blonde hair mussed and her eyes dark.