"Do you have any plans for Christmas, Kim?", Sharon asks me while she hangs the wreath on the stage door.
"No", I say, sighing, "Aside from the usual, you know, dealing with families, driving back and forth between them. What about you?"
"Well", she says, biting onto her lip as she looks over her shoulder, giving a single, firm nod towards where a certain someone stands. I suppress a giggle. "At least," she adds, "I hope".
"Don't we all?", a fellow colleague, Stephanie, butts in as she grabs a box with several differently-decorated garlands and immediately walks away, swaying her hips seductively back and forth while passing him. It works, for it catches his eyes, even if it is for only a few, mere seconds. I look after her and shake my head, though, a smirk is clearly visible on my face.
"I wonder what he's going to do for Christmas". I look at her and see how my friend licks her lips, her eyes unable to look away. He doesn't even notice. He's back focussing onto work, busy going through the script with his father to ensure that his envision becomes reality.
"Well," I tease her, "Why don't you go ask him and find out?"
"Oh, you", she hisses at me through gritted teeth. She throws an ornament in my direction, which, thankfully, misses me by an inch. Instead, it lands on the floor with a rather loud, sharp thud, shattering in what seems like a million pieces. All of the sudden, the noise of chattering around us dims and everyone, literally everyone, directs themselves at us, staring intensely. I feel… noticed.
"Whoops, sorry, clumsy Kimberlie - you know how she is", Sharon shrugs before laughing, scratching the back of her head with her hand. I feel my cheeks heat up, blushing in result as I steal several glances with him and the wooden floor. That sure caught his attention. I've caught his attention.
"They say that shards bring good luck, don't they?", he says after a few seconds, chuckling and the rest joins. I can't help but feel as if he said it to make me feel better and wave some of the unnerving silence away. Slowly, our bystanders go back to their conversations and duties, leaving us to our own private little session as we pick up the broken pieces.
"I just want to tear him out of that blue button-up", she abruptly whispers after throwing the broken ornament and its shattered glass away. I burst out in a hearty, loud laugh and feel a pair of eyes immediately directed at me. I look at the origin, to my right and meet his longing gaze. A tingling sensation starts to burn within me as he continues to stare at me with those dark eyes of his.
"We should finish this", I suddenly say and break our contact.
"What the fuck was that just now?", Sharon asks boldly, perhaps a little too aggressive and defensive for her usual demeanor.
"I don't know, I don't even want to know. Let's get back to work, okay?", I feel strange and awkward at the same time. It's common knowledge that every single women here is after his ass, but to be experiencing the same, well, I'm just not going to survive the heated battle for his affection, that's for certain.
After a couple of hours, we've finally finished decorating the carefully crafted staged room. I stand back and behold the Christmas tree, hands tightly pressed onto my hips. Something seems off, but I can't quite put my finger on it, and I can't ask Sharon because I've send her home about half an hour ago.
"Looks like Christmas came early to the Red-Light District", a warm yet husk voice jokingly says behind me.
I look at the variously-colored light bulbs that are lit and hung in the tree and nod, agreeing. That must be it. It looks like a whorehouse. I turn to voice my appreciation and immediately, when I look him in the eyes and notice his pearly white smile, my mouth drops open and not a single word comes out properly. I take in a sharp breath after realizing.
It's him.
And damn, Sharon was right. That blue button-up shirt looks incredible on him. It shows off all the right places, emphasizing his muscles with that trademark extra button or two undone. His hair is tousled, messy. I just want to run my fingers through it. I look around, noticing that there's barely anyone here. I swallow hard. How can anyone resist him?
"I was wondering," he pauses briefly, cocking his head as he regards me with sharp eyes, "what are you doing for Christmas?"
You?