“Yes, this is her.”
“Thank Christ.”
“He’s the reason for the season,” I say without thinking. Clipboard woman gives me a horrified look, like she’s never seen a talking elf before. Luke makes a choking sound.
“You both need to get to the North Pole now. The doors are going to open in roughly five minutes.” She looks down at her clipboard. “You,” she says, making direct eye contact with me, even bending a little so we’re eye to eye. “Don’t let the kids bully or push you around. They’re already jacked up on sugar and when you add Santa to the mix, things get dicey. Protect Santa at all cost. There will be other elves running the line and sending kids to you, so you don’t need to worry about that, but keep each visit to under three minutes. Understand?”
“Christmas depends on you, young elf,” Luke whispers out of the side of his mouth. The woman either ignores him or doesn’t hear him because she is still making aggressive eye contact with me.
Is she waiting for a verbal response? “Yes. Okay. I understand.”
She doesn’t look happy with my answer but that’s no surprise. Straightening up, she adjusts the top button on her black blouse, nods, then walks away.
Two things occur me as I turn back to Luke. The first is that he requested to work with me. I didn’t want to read too much into that small request. The second is that we’re the main show. Well, Luke is as Santa, but I’m going to be right there in the trenches with him. He’s dragging me into the danger zone knowingly.
Today would see me ripping children off Santa’s lap, trying to calm crying kids and, in all likelihood, having some undigested food item hurled at me.
“If I get thrown up on, you’re going to owe me so big,” I tell him with steel to my voice.
“I’m going to owe you? I’m Santa! It’s more likely I’m going to get thrown up on.”
“Protect Santa at all cost,” I repeat mockingly, my voice going deep.
“Alright. Fine.” Luke adjusts his beard from under his chin to back in place over his jaw. I miss his scruff already.
With wide eyes, I look up at Luke as someone yells “Incoming” through the event space. We make a run for the North Pole—which is really just Santa’s big throne-like chair between two large fake snow piles. I’ve just placed myself at the end of the velvet rope path when the stampede hits. Cheers, laughter and cries of panic fill the room all at once. My heart is in my throat as the sound of tiny running feet gets closer and closer. Taking a deep breath, fixing my floppy hat and plastering on a big smile, I wait for the madness to begin.
It takes only twelve minutes before the first puke accident happens.
Reaction
Belinda
I’m stress eating. After two hours of nonstop kids, lifting them onto Santa’s lap and then lifting them off, all while holding a cheery smile, I’m exhausted. Everything aches. Including my cheeks. Man, smiling is hard. Especially when you’re trying to reassure a parent that their kid isn’t an asshole.
Exhaustion is the first reason I’m stuffing my face blindly at the snack table. The second—and let’s be real, the main reason I’m eating my feelings—is because Luke, still dressed as jolly ol’ Saint Nick, is surrounded by groupie elves. And Amelia.
God, that woman is relentless.
Since his beard is still in place, I can’t read Luke’s face. He seems to be lapping up all the attention and isn’t looking around for someone to save him. He’s totally forgotten about me.
It’s torture to watch. Soul-crushingly horrible but I can’t look away. I need to see this. To remind myself for the millionth time that we’re just friends. It would be a Christmas miracle if an inappropriate thought crossed his mind about me.
I reach back for another jelly-filled cookie. They’re store-bought but I’m desperate. My eyes never leave Luke. I watch Amelia’s hand grab his bicep and squeeze. Rolling my eyes at the way she’s fawning all over him, I take a large bite of cookie and try to hide my snarl behind chewing. I really need to look away, find something else to—
I stop chewing when the flavor of jelly registers on my tongue. Oh no. Oh fuck. I glance down at the cookie and see the color of jelly. Shit.
Spinning, I drop the half-eaten treat and reach for a napkin, disposing of what I hadn’t swallowed into the thin sheet. How could I have been so stupid? Maybe I’ve realized my mistake in time. I feel…
Tingling begins to break out on my hairline. My tongue feels heavy in my mouth.
Panic fills me. I can’t focus. I need to do something but all I can think is that my throat is going to swell up next. A whine leaves me as I pull off the elf hat that is suddenly making me extremely hot.
“Belinda? Bee! What’s wrong?”
My hands shoot out, twisting in Luke’s red coat. “Apricots,” I grunt.
His brow furrows in confusion for a second before his eyes flare with understanding. “Someone help! She’s having an allergic reaction! I need a first aid kit over here,” Luke yells out. “I got you, Bee. I got you.” The dizziness overtakes me. There’s a muffled crash and then everything goes black.
Luke
“You’re so pretty,” Belinda chirps from the passenger seat, her body slumped over in an odd position. Her glassy eyes blink slowly at me. “Like, really pretty.” Christ, she was high as a kite.
When she went down, bringing one of the dessert tables with her, I swear time stood still. There had been a look of such…fear on her face seconds before she passed out that I was sure the image would stay with me for years.
I know it was an allergic reaction to an apricot jelly cookie, but my heart still feels like it’s in my throat. For a moment, I truly thought—
Her hand grabs my arm. “I think snow is pretty, too.”
I nod, wanting to grab her hand and hold it in mine, but I need to pay attention to the road. The snow is falling fast, a storm on the horizon, and visibility is getting harder with the fading light. Her hand falls onto my lap, dangerously close to my dick. It hasn’t gotten the memo that she’s hurt, the bastard. He’s begging for attention. It’s wrong of me, but I leave her hand there, needing her touch.
I wasn’t a man who scared easily but Belinda freaked me out today. All I wanted was to get her home and feeling better. When I carried her to my car, I debated on where I should take her. After this traumatic experience, I think she’d like to be in the comfort of her apartment.
The situation could have been a lot worse. Because the event was for a local kids group there had been a doctor on location. He’d been the one to jab an EpiPen in Bee’s thigh. While most of her swelling went down within fifteen minutes after injection, the hives on her chest and arms were still visible. I was ready to take her to the hospital to be monitored for the night, but the doctor had assured me she would be fine and would probably prefer to be home in bed. He’d sat with me in the back room with Bee still held tightly in my arms for another ten minutes before I believed him. She was breathing normally, her pulse had evened out and she was semiconscious. High out of her mind.