As we make another turn, I slow the car. The streetlights seem dim compared to the glow from all the decorations.
“This is my favorite neighborhood to drive through at this time of year,” I say, appreciating the houses. “They always go all out, every house. Even when new people move in, they join the tradition.”
She’s silent for a moment as she stares out the windows, scanning our surroundings. When she turns to look out my driver’s side window, I can see the reflection of all the holiday lights and cheer in her eyes.
My snakes shift around, all of their attention on her as well. “You look beautiful, Holly.”
Her eyes dart to me, a faint flush of color to her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“Well, what do you think so far? We’ve still got a few streets to go.” I follow my normal route, going extra slow for her to take in each and every decoration.
As her gaze travels, she finally gives me an answer. “It’s very…bright.”
Hoping for more, I press, “And?”
“And…it’s kind of nice, I guess. To some, I could see it being nice.” She may be trying to maintain a façade of hatred for all things Christmas, but I know it started tumbling down ages ago.
Well, not ages, but long enough ago.
The moment she met me, I hope.
As we turn down another street, I say, “At the end of this cul-de-sac, there’s an older gentleman who dresses as Santa every year.”
“Why?” she asks, but there’s purely curiosity in her tone, no animosity.
I can see his set up from where we are. “For the neighborhood children. They don’t recognize him, and they get to talk to Santa at somewhere other than a mall. It brings him and the kids joy.”
More silence follows my words, and I take the risk. Reaching forward, I turn up the volume on the radio, changing the channel.
Faintly, Christmas music floats through the air. I watch for Holly’s reaction as I take my hand off of the volume knob.
Now,thismight be too much Christmas spirit for her to handle in one sitting. But there’s no harm in testing the waters.
Her shoulders don’t tense up, and she doesn’t even turn her head. “That one has ahugesnowman…it’s almost as tall as the house. Must’ve been pricey.”
Wait, no comment on the Christmas music? Nothing at all? No snarky remark?
It’s taking all of my willpower not to park this car and fuck her as hard as I can in the backseat. Unfortunately, I don’t fit very well horizontally in the backseat of a car.
And I really don’t want to traumatize any passersby in my favorite neighborhood.
“What do you really think about the decorations?” I gently ask as we round the end of the cul-de-sac.
I see her gaze stick on the man in his Santa suit, and the way the kids stand around him excitedly. Some jump around, others have their tongues stuck out to catch snowflakes, and a few just cling to the man tightly.
Even as we pass by, her head turns, her eyes lingering. “It’s impressive.”
“I’ll take that—it’s the most positive thing you’ve said about Christmas so far.” I grin, reaching out to turn the music up a bit louder.
Now, her attention shifts to the radio. “When did you turn that on?”
Wait, shedidn’t notice? Shit, I’ve ruined it.
“Before we reached the Santa,” I admit, turning out of the cul-de-sac.
“Oh,” she says, looking back out the window at the new scenery. “I didn’t even hear it…”
If anything is a dead giveaway that Holly is starting to fall for Christmas, it’s this. If Christmas music can make it past her ears without so much as a flinch, we’re on the right track.
