Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“The others didn’t send me in here to get you,” she says, taking a seat beside me. “None of them care enough that you’re in here. It’s only me, girl. The rest didn’t even notice you’re gone.”
“Oh, well that’s comforting.” We both laugh.
“It’s not that they don’t like you,” she replies. “It’s just that we’ve got a Santa out there, and let’s just say he’s got basically all the girls’ attention.”
I groan. “Please don’t tell me someone hired a male stripper.”
Marissa cracks up and takes a sip of her drink. She shakes her head and puts a hand on my thigh. Marissa and I have been friends since somewhere near the end of high school. She was the one who got me this job, and we’ve been through so much together. I owe her a lot.
“No, no, but that would be awesome,” she laughs. “Although I don’t think the guys in the office would care for it.”
“What then?”
“Well…I think the best way for you to understand would be to just come out and see.”
I sigh – probably a lot more dramatically than necessary. “I’m really quite happy right here, Marissa–”
“I know, I know you are,” she interrupts. “But seriously, you have to see this. Just come out for a few minutes, and then you can come back to your little cave here. Who knows, you might even find yourself enjoying yourself!”
I frown back at her with my as-if face. “Oh, sure. I’ll have a great time!” I counter, causing us both to laugh. But still, I get up from the windowsill and go lean on Marissa as we both make our way from the dark office and back into the hallway leading into the front where the actual party is going on.
I can already hear it as we start getting closer: the Christmas music playing, Tasha singing along, people laughing and talking to one another, telling stories about how much they all love the holidays – but then I hear something else, something different. Grown women giggling. They’re all going on about something that seems to have them quite happy, and as we approach the main room of the office and their voices get louder, I can feel Marissa’s eyes on me, watching my reaction.
“I feel as though I’m being led to my own execution,” I tell her.
“Oh, stop,” she laughs. “You’ll be fine. If you let yourself relax, you might even have some fun for once!”
“I was having fun before–”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Marissa scoffs. “In your cold, dark room feeling miserable by yourself. Tell me, in your room back there, did they have this?”
With a dramatic, magician-like flourish, Marissa waves her arm, beckoning me forward to join the others.
Part of me wants to spin around and run back to safety. But I know that would be wrong. I am a twenty-two-year-old woman. I can’t be behaving like that! It’s just a Christmas party, after all. How bad could it really be?
So I put one foot in front of the other and step past Marissa into the large office space that’s normally filled with cool, hip, “work friendly” furniture that has now been transformed and opened up into a “holiday space” where everyone has gathered to celebrate and have a great time.
But really, Daisy, how bad could it be?
I see Tasha over by the speakers, some kind of Christmas cocktail in her hand, singing along to “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” Claire picking cookies off the table filled with snacks, and Rhonda leaning against the wall with a smile on her face, looking off in the direction of where most of the noise is coming from.
“Over there,” Marissa whispers, pointing like she’s sharing a dirty little secret with me. I know I’m going to regret it, but I look anyway. And sure enough, what I see makes me want to run back for the cover of my nice cold, dark room.
He may not be a male stripper, but someone decided that hiring a mega-hottie to play Santa this year would be a great idea. He’s wearing the all-red outfit – cap and everything – which has all been perfectly designed to show off his body. And it’s clear from one quick look that this is a guy who spends plenty of time at the gym.
Jasmine is on his lap right now, giggling and squirming around as he asks her what she’d like for Christmas, and whether she’s been a naughty girl or not this year, while the rest of the girls in the office stand around in a circle, giggling like it’s one of the Jonas Brothers they’re waiting to get a chance to meet.
“Oh my God, Marissa,” I groan as I start to turn away. “Are you kidding me?”
“Oh, stop right there,” she says, snatching me by the wrist. “You’re not going anywhere. Don’t you want to meet Santa!?”