“First time in Crescent Bay?” She asks.
“Yeah, it is,” I answer.
Her eyes shine with a knowing haze, as if she can sense the loneliness I’ve masked behind my indifference, lip gloss, and blonde sew-in. “This town has a way of making even the coldest days feel warm. I hope you enjoy your stay,” she says, spinning on her heel and walking off with a purpose.
I return the heavy mug to my lips, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows and through the screened-in porch to the snow-covered backyard and the setting sun. Being here alone is better than being alone in my apartment, at least.
I add my empty mug to a tray with the others, ready to head to my room and get undressed for the night. Before I knew I was doing this, I had planned to watch a Christmas movie every night until the day. I still have them all downloaded to my laptop, and the thought of cozying up in that thick terry robe, under those plush sheets, in this cottage ripped straight out of a fairy tale ignites a giddy anticipation inside me.
As I enter the living area, someone walks through the door.
The curls on his head are short, only long enough so they just begin to coil. His skin is deep, the color of cocoa before you add any milk or sugar — smooth and soft-looking, like velvet. His eyes are inviting as he shakes Gayle’s hand.
“Sorry, I-I missed my flight earlier,” he chuckles. The sound of his voice is unexpected. Sonorous and throaty, but gentle and kind. “I’m here for the Christmas Countdown?”
She playfully slaps Jiraiya’s shoulder. “See, I told you I wasn’t tripping. I knew we were missing someone.”
I pretend not to watch them out of the corner of my eyes as I make my way to my room, the key to the door held tight between my fingers. “Are you Nicholas Saint?” Gayle asks.
“In the flesh,” he muses.
She laughs. “Did your parents do that on purpose?”
“Do what on purpose?” He responds.
The energy between them shifts.
“You know,” Gayle hums, “Saint Nick? Nicholas Saint?”
He doesn’t reply, just stares at the two of them with a straight face.
“Oh my goodness,” Gayle chuckles, all her confidence wooshing out of her with the deep breath she expels. A feat I would have thought impossible. “I’m sorry I—”
“I’m just messing with you,” Nicholas smiles at them briefly before the three of them dissolve into a fit of laughter so rich it seems to shake the whole house. “Yeah, no, I’m a Christmas baby. My parents definitely did that on purpose,” he finally says.
A reluctant smile tugs on my lips.
I owe Raegan an apology.
With hands more sure of themselves, I insert my room key into the door and twist.
Nick
The sunrise alone made this expedition worth it. I press the viewfinder to my right eye, closing the left so I can focus on the picture filling my nine-by-nine grid. Then, I wait. That’s when you capture the magic. Some may think photography is about being the fastest to capture the image, but the best work is born out of patience. Time slows as I hone my attention on whatever fills the tiny square of my vision.
There it is.
Or rather, theresheis.
As if God posed her Himself, she stands perfectly framed in the frosted glass. The icy vignette splinters, then dissolves just as she enters the frame. Her blonde hair is piled on the top of her head in a tousled bun. Steam rises from the mug she cups with both hands, long, copper-toned fingers overlapping each other. The best part? Everything about her is bare. Bare nails, and not a stitch of makeup on her perfect, radiant skin. As she closes her eyes, tilting her head back so the rays of morning light hit the high points of her chiseled face, I click the button on my shutter, feeling a bit of victory at the sound of the lens closing.
I hang out for a beat longer, until the chill in the air starts to win the war against my thermals and gloves. I’d caught a glimpseof her last night. Every hair on my body stood at attention when my eyes found her. After realizing that I’m the only one here without a partner, though, I pushed any ideas of pursuing her out of my mind. I guessed others had enough self-preservation to take that‘singles are still welcome’note as a hint to stay away. No one wants to be the third wheel, or in this case, the thirteenth wheel. I’m used to it by now. We’re only here for twelve days anyway.
I nod a good morning to her as I enter the dining area, heading straight for the coffee bar to get some feeling back in my fingers.
“Good morning, what can I make for you?” The barista asks.
“Morning, uh,” I glance back at the woman behind me, lost in her thoughts, still looking out the window. “Whatever she got.”
