This is painful. I walk over to where the plastic reindeer stand, thumbing my finger against them as if it might stir them awake. News flash, it doesn’t. They aren’t even anatomically correct. They aren’t even the right height. This thing doesn’t even come up to my waist, and I’m not even that tall in my human form. I’m only 6’ 2” in this form. In my reindeer form though, I’m easily 4’ tall at the top of my shoulder which towers over this stupid fake deer. Not even taking into consideration that from the bottom of my hoof to the tip of my antler is six feet. My dad in his reindeer form is even taller, if you could believe that.
We are designed to pull the sleigh, fly through the snowy nights, and maintain a serious amount of magic for twenty-four hours. This guy, I pat the top of the hollow plastic back, looks like he couldn’t even pull a child’s sleigh with a toddler aboard it. It’s a pity that kids think this is what we look like and they’ll never know what we really look like. Stupid rules about how humans can’t handlethe magicand blah, blah, blah.
I sigh, giving the fake reindeer one last sad pat. “You deserved better, buddy.”
That’s when I hear it—soft, delicate, and distinctly not part of the “Sleigh Bells Ring.” A single chime, almost whimsically, even a little mythical. Aurielle.
The sound threads through the chaos like liquid silver, weaving its way around each person until it finds me. Like a lure, my body moves towards the sound as if I’m being pulled by an invisible force. My chest tightens, as warmth spreads throughmy body as a mental image of Holly wrapped in my arms with snow falling softly around us fills my mind. Her smile is tantalizing, her teeth biting down on her lower lip.
Tinking grows louder when my feet come to a stop in front of a display of pearly white ice skates hanging from a silver hook, the laces tied in perfect bows. Right above them on a shelf are snow globes with an ice skating rink, tiny couples skating hand-in-hand, with a vintage sign reading Bryant Park Ice Rink—Open Until Midnight.
I tilt my head, a smile spreading across my face as I smirk. I look up towards the ceiling, not because Aurielle is in thesky, but out of a sort of habit. “Subtle, real subtle. You want me to ask her out, don’t you?”
A final, playful tink-tink-tink answers me when I grab the skates before fading into the crowd again.Alright, understood, Goddess.
I glance back toward Holly, who’s now wrangling the elves into formation for the next batch of Santa photos. One of them is texting, another is picking at the snow on her costume, and Santa is snoring in his chair. Is he actually ninety?
My jaw tightens. “This is painful to watch.”
That’s when I hear her voice again, closer this time, teasing and warm from behind me.
“You look personally offended,” Holly says as she walks over, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Did the elves commit a federal crime, or do you know one of them?” She glances between me and the display like she’s trying to figure out what on earth has short-circuited inside my brain.
I snort, barely resisting the urge to stomp a hoof like a pissed-off caribou. Get it together, Ryatt. No shifting in Macy’s. She will absolutely never date a man who behaves like livestock.
I try—genuinely try—to swallow my irritation.
But then the fake Santa picks his nose. Out. In public. With no shame. My eye twitches. A vein pulses in my forehead.
“Okay,” I mutter, “nope. Nope, I can’t let that slide.”
My finger shoots out before my brain can stop it. “Look at him!” I jab toward Santa’s wiggling finger. “This is what humans think Santa looks like? A— a nose-mining gremlin?”
Holly chokes on a laugh, and that only fuels me.
I stomp toward the fake reindeer. “And this? This is supposedly a reindeer? It’s the size of a Labrador! AsmallLabrador. If this thing had to pull a sleigh, the children wouldn’t get presents untilEaster.”
My hand lands on the reindeer’s back and it wobbles like cardboard. The indignity ignites something primal in me.
“And her—!”
I whirl around to point at the elf scrolling her phone, but my dramatic arm sweep lands exactly at Holly’s face instead.
I freeze. She freezes.
Her eyes go wide, lips forming a perfect O as she slowly tucks her fingers beneath her hat like she’s bracing for impact.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
Shit… shit… shit.
I didn’t keep myself in check. Not only did I lose my shit on a fake Christmas display, but I sound awfully like someone who knows differently. Someone who would know exactly what a reindeer looks like.
My feet drag across the tiles as I walk over to her. How do I recover from this? Maybe if I play it off as just my passion for Christmas, maybe she’d buy that? No, we shouldn’t start out with lies. Well it’s not necessarily a lie, Iampassionate about Christmas. Just not the human version of it.
She’s still standing frozen when I come to a stop in front of her. The other elves have moved on to whatever it is they do aroundhere. Thankfully there weren't any customers around to witness my explosion.
