I thought it was high time to enter a contest here after posting on Lit for five years. So here's my submission for the Winter Holidays Contest 2017. You all know the rules...vote if you like it (which I hope you do). Comments/feedback are just the icing on the cake...and I love good icing! Much appreciation in advance!
Also, a huge thanks to Lady Mireille for her last-minute editing help and suggestions so I could get this submitted in time.
SSW
*****
I usually say no.
But he was cute, I was bored, and what harm could come from answering a short survey?
I was only at the mall because the weather had been crappy all week, and I was getting claustrophobic in my apartment with my roommate and her boyfriend making out like a pair of spring rabbits in heat. I'd tried to remind them that it was Christmas time, not Easter, but Jolie had been too busy giggling and screeching while Dirk chased her back into her bedroom.
The slamming of her door was the jolt I'd needed to get me out of my funk and convince me I needed to get out of there. But after two hours of jostling through holiday shoppers and creating a wish list I'd never be able to afford on my salary from my job as a front desk assistant at the gym, I'd decided it was time to head back home. But not before I grabbed a caramel latte from the coffee vendor in the food court.
I left the line with my drink and was heading back toward the north end of the mall when I was waylaid by a tall drink of water. Literally. It was a seven-foot tall cardboard cutout of a glass filled three-quarters-full standing next to a kiosk advertising home-delivery bottled water systems. I was flustered after noticing a guy—who looked very much like Ryan Gosling—staring at me from where he stood by the entrance to one of those preppy clothing stores with a clipboard in his hands. I lowered my head for just a moment and walked right into the side of the thing!
A small group of girls and guys walking past laughed and pointed. I brushed off their looks and glanced at my drink. Thankfully, the lid was still secured. When I looked up again, I was startled by the gorgeous blue eyes looking back at me with a mixture of mild concern and amusement.
"Are you okay?" Mr. Clipboard's eyes searched my body before sliding back up to my face. Then he smirked. "I'm sorry about that."
"I-I'm fine." I gave him a smile and shrugged. "It's just my ego, which was already deflated."
"I'd offer to buy you a drink as consolation, but..." He gestured to my hand.
I lifted my cup. "Thanks."
His smile widened, making his eyes shine brighter. "A raincheck maybe?"
"Uh...I don't even know your name."
He clutched the clipboard in his left hand closer to his chest and held out his right hand. "Chris."
"Nice to meet you." The last word was barely audible as his hand closed around mine. His grip was firm...warm...and it made strange but delicious shivers race through me. I bit back a groan when he let go. My breath was raspy when I added, "Holly."
"With an H, like the Christmas plant?"
"Yes." I refrained from rolling my eyes but lifted a strand of my hair. "I even have the red for the berries. My parents thought the name was fitting with my birthday in December."
I cringed internally. Stupid! Why are you telling a complete stranger something so personal?
"Hello, Holly. It's a pleasure to meet you. And happy birthday...early or belated."
"Uh...thanks." My cheeks were suddenly warm. I tugged at the collar of my sweater, but it didn't help. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Swallowed with difficulty. When I looked at him again, Chris was frowning.
"Are you sure you're okay? Do you want to sit down for a minute?"
"No, I'm fine. I was just on my way out."
"Oh, big plans tonight?"
"N-no. Nothing at all, really. I was just here to get away from my roommate and her boyfriend." I mentally slapped myself. Shut. Up. Idiot. Just wear a sign next time that says you're a lonely, single woman with nothing better to do than embarrass yourself at the mall.
"Then what's the rush to get out into the cold? Come, have a seat and catch your breath." Chris pointed to a table for two where the occupants were gathering their things. "Do you mind?"
"Uh...no...I-I guess not."
"Quick, before someone else gets it." He placed his clipboard behind my back, using it to guide me. Once we were seated, he set the clipboard on the table. "It's crazy here, isn't it?"
"Well, it's only a week until Christmas. It's like this every year."
He shook his head. "Too many people for my tastes."
"And yet, you're here."
He tapped the clipboard. "I needed some extra cash."
"What's that?" I tilted my head to try to read the words on the pile of sheets under his finger.
"Consumer surveys."
"Is it like your annual household income and what kind of cleaning products you prefer?"
"Exactly."
"I'd be glad to fill it out."
He crossed his arms on top of the pile of forms. "You don't have to. It's nice just talking to you."
"You said you needed the money. I'm sure that it's based on how many surveys you turn in."
"Well, yeah..."
"I have nothing better to do, anyway." I beckoned him with my fingers.
Chris pushed the clipboard toward me and handed me a pen from his pocket. "Thanks for doing this. Now I owe you twice."
We talked randomly about the holiday and the weather while I answered the questions. When I was done, I noticed the bottom of the sheet had a space for an email address.
"Why do you need to know an email if it's an anonymous survey?"
"You can be entered into a contest to win a thousand dollars."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"
He shrugged. "That's what they tell me."
"And just how many surveys have you filled out?"
"None."
I laughed. "I don't believe you."
"Employees are exempt from entering. Even the temporary ones."
"That must suck."
"Yeah, I could use an extra grand."
"Me, too." I filled in my email address and pushed the clipboard back to him. "If I win, how about I split it with you?"
"That's very generous of you. It'll be less after taxes, but I'd be a fool to say no." He pulled a blank form off the clipboard, flipped it over, and wrote his first name and email address. "So you know how to contact me when you win."
"If."
He chuckled. "Right. If."
We commented on the people passing us for a few minutes while I sipped on my latte. But after he checked his watch twice, I knew I should let him get back to work. Still, I'd enjoyed the time with him.
"I need to get going," I said, standing up. "It's been a pleasure, Chris."
"The pleasure was all mine, Holly. If I—" He laughed then shook his head.
"What?"
"I was going to say, if I don't see you beforehand, have a merry Christmas. But..."
"Right. We will probably never see each other again."
He smiled warmly. "Well, you never know. Have a merry Christmas, Holly."
"You, too, Chris. You, too." I walked away still wearing my own smile.
###
Four days later before I got ready for bed, I noticed an email with the subject of "Consolation Prize." I almost deleted it as spam, but something about the address seemed familiar, so I opened it with a mental reminder not to click on any links in case a virus was attached. But then I laughed so hard, tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
---
Dear Holly I-Don't-Know-Your-Last-Name,
It is with much regret that I am writing to inform you that you have not won the grand prize of $1000.00 that we agreed to split, minus tax deductions. It's a huge bummer to me, because that means I'll still have to do stupid jobs—like standing around the mall for several hours in holiday mayhem—just so I can buy groceries.
I know it's probably not what you were asking Santa for, but if you're not too depressed about losing—and your ego has recovered from your run-in with the Culligan Man—I received $50 from the survey company for my troubles. I'd like to offer you a date with me as a consolation prize so I can buy you that drink I promised.
'Tis the season,
Chris, the Survey Guy
P.S. Don't make me beg. Please. My own ego is fragile these days.
---
I hovered my mouse over the button to reply and clicked. But once I was staring at the blank body of my response, I couldn't think of anything to write. At least not as clever as what he had composed. I settled with a quick answer that I'd be happy to accept the prize if he named the place and time, and then I clicked to send before I could change my mind.
The next morning, there was another email from Chris. It was even shorter than mine. He'd merely stated to meet at a popular uptown coffee shop that afternoon.
I couldn't keep my legs still at work. It was so unlike me to fidget with my pen or constantly restack the paperwork on the reception desk, but that's what I did. I kept reminding myself it was just coffee. He was just doing this because he was a nice guy, and maybe he'd felt guilty for making me look like I couldn't walk.
As the hours crept on and the front doors remained closed for the most part, I prayed more members would come into the gym to make the time go faster. But the fact that it had snowed overnight and it was the Friday before Christmas meant the activity on the floor was pretty thin. I'd arranged to take a lunch at the end of my shift and leave early for the day so I could meet Chris, though that just made me more antsy because my stomach started gurgling around noon. At least I think it was from hunger.
Once it was time to clock out, I found myself lingering in the bathroom stall. I wanted to see him again, right? We'd had a good conversation at the mall. He was easy on the eyes, and that one dimple that his left cheek revealed whenever he smiled only made him more attractive. Not to mention, he wanted to see me again. If he wasn't interested, he wouldn't have reached out. Right? So why was I a bundle of nerves?
Feeling a little more encouraged after my personal pep talk, I made my way to my car and scraped off the frost on the windshield while I waited for the engine to warm up. Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling into the parking lot of the strip mall and walking into the coffee shop. I looked around the noisy, bustling room but didn't see Chris. My layers of a sweater and a winter coat were suddenly too hot.
