He tilts his head toward me. "You do. Very quietly. Like a hummingbird sighing."
"Then it's cute snoring," I say, stretching, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.
He rises, coffee mug in hand. "Yes. I suppose you could say that. Cute snoring.” He shakes his head. “Cocoa's on the counter. You'll have to settle for powdered mix. I still think it’s a sin to be an adult who doesn’t like coffee."
I cross to the kitchen and pour hot water into my mug, the scent of chocolate filling the air. The silence between us isn't awkward anymore. Now it's curious, charged and kind of like static waiting for a spark.
"How bad's the storm?" I ask.
"Roads are closed. Power's flickering. We're officially snowed in."
"Just us?"
"Just us," he confirms.
I glance up at him over my mug, steam curling between us. "Could be worse, I suppose. I could be alone."
The look he gives me is steady, unreadable, but his gaze lingers a beat longer than it should.
My phone buzzes on the counter. Guess the internet is still working, for now anyway.
Madison: Girl. STATUS REPORT.
Lily: Did you survive the night???
Chloe: Is he still scary or has the blizzard made him human?
Me: Survived. He made sure I had cocoa this morning.
Amber: That's nice of him. Maybe he can convince you to try coffee.
Me: That’s not happening. Ew. No thanks. I don’t drink burnt bean water.
Maya: Next he'll be chopping wood shirtless
Me: He's wearing a button-down at 7 am. The man irons in a crisis.
Madison: That's somehow hotter??
I pocket my phone before Justin can ask questions. We’d made a subset of The Naughty Girl’s Book Club. At last year’s Secret Christmas Exchange and Virtual Party, we realized that several of us were Gen Z and saw things a bit differently than our older counterparts. We started a text thread of Gen Z Daddy Lovers and now, I’m closer to many of these girls than I am my in-person friend group.
As it turns out, the bedroom upstairs has an entire dresser full of Justin’s clothing. After I change out of my elf getup into a pair of his sweatpants, that are entirely too large on me, we go through a couple of boxes of merchandise that he’d put aside to send back to the distributor.
“I couldn’t believe we got a thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise that said Santass Workshop on it,” Justin says. I can’t help myself; I collapse into laughter onto the couch. He raises an eyebrow at me. “It’s not funny.”
“Sure it is. It’s like Santa’s Ass! Come on. You don’t see it?”
He frowns for a second and looks at the bright red words plastered onto hoodies and crew neck sweatshirts before cracking a smile. “I see it, now.”
“Comes in handy when you are snowed in,” I say before finding an oversized one and slipping it on over my elf tunic. It’s super cozy.
“I should check the generator,” Justin says suddenly.
I nod. Do I know how to check a generator? No. Will I stay put? Also, no. Instead, I spend the morning with Justin checking the generator and clearing snow from the door. He's efficient, methodical, while I narrate every moment like a Christmas movie host. It’s part of my, um… charm. Yes, my charm.
"You'd be terrible on camera," I tease when he barely cracks a smile. "Too serious. They'd cast you as the guy who hates Christmas until a plucky elf melts your heart."
He pauses, leaning on his shovel, snowflakes caught in his hair. "And which one are you?"
