He shrugs. "My mother hosts holiday events. Hallmark movies play on a loop in the sitting room. Unavoidable exposure."
"Don't forget the main character type," Gavin adds.
Caleb shifts beside me, our shoulders pressing together in the confined space. "A workaholic who needs to rediscover the true meaning of Christmas through the love of a quirky small-town tree farmer."
"I can be quirky," Gavin offers.
"You're many things, Gavin, but 'quirky small-town tree farmer' isn't one of them," Tyler says, while keeping his eyes on the road.
“I could wear flannel and bring all the girls to my farm, hoping to be the one to catch my heart.” Gavin waggles his eyebrows, and we all start laughing.
"Oh, oh! You know what?" he practically yells. "I'd watch the hell out of a gay Hallmark movie where two grumpy guys get forced to plan a frat Christmas party and fall in love."
The laughter explodes around us as Caleb and I both say "Fuck off, Gavin" in perfect unison.
"Who said I was talking about you two?" Gavin waves wildly at us. "But, you do have the synchronized responses down. It's perfect."
"I hate you," I say as I pull out my phone to check the frat's social media accounts, hyper-aware of Caleb's thigh pressed against mine. Every time the car turns, we get pushed together a little more.
"James, put the phone away," Gavin scolds. "This is quality bonding time."
"I'm the social media manager. This is my job."
"Your job today is to enjoy the Christmas spirit," he insists.
"I'm allergic to Christmas spirit." I puff out my chest so the guys can all read what my shirt says today, 'Christmas Spirit? Never heard of her.
"I have an EpiPen," Caleb adds dryly.
Gavin turns entirely in his seat, somehow folding his massive frame to face us. "Yeah, well, I counter you and raise you this!" He pulls his hoodie over his head to show off the ugliest Christmas tee I've ever seen. Rick, the pledge, starts coughing; he's laughing hard as we all stare at "Hung Well," with a large felt stocking glued to it.
I have to pat the pledge on the back until he can breathe again. Gavin beams at us. "You two are the perfect Christmas couple. All grumpy on the outside but secretly soft on the inside."
"Nothing soft about me," I say, immediately regretting my word choice as several eyebrows raise suggestively.
"Caleb's a lucky man," Rick says with a shit-eating grin.
I glare at him. "You're still on probation, pledge. I can make your life very difficult."
Rick goes pale, and I feel Caleb shaking with silent laughter beside me.
"Leave the grinches alone," Tyler says, though he's smiling too. "Not everyone needs to be as Christmas-obsessed as Drew."
"Thank you," Caleb says. "One tree shopping expedition and I'm maxed out on holiday cheer for the year."
"Oh, this is just the beginning," Gavin says gleefully. "Drew has a whole Christmas bucket list. More Ice skating, gingerbread houses, a holiday movie marathon..."
I groan. "Did we join a fraternity or Santa's workshop?"
"Both, apparently," Tyler answers cheerfully as we pull into the tree farm's parking lot.
The tree farm is every Christmas cliché come to life. Rows of firs and pines stretch across several acres, twinkling lights are strung between wooden poles, and speakers hidden in the trees pump out holiday music. There's even a small petting zoo with reindeer. It's horrifically festive.
"I think I'm getting hives," Caleb mutters as we follow Drew, who's practically skipping ahead.
"Focus on the fact that there's probably alcohol in the cider."
He smirks. "Now you're speaking my language."
