Just For The Holidays (Home for the Holidays)

26. Teddy

Chapter 26

Teddy

You Spin Me ‘Round

A dense squall of flakes shoots down, like stars falling out of the navy sky, absorbing the truck’s headlights, as they struggle to scout the road ahead.

By the time Teddy reaches the shopping mall, the ground is piling with a heavy blanket of snow. For a moment he contemplates turning back.

I've made the trek, there’s no sense in turning back now .

The Anderson family party is the day after tomorrow and he needs something to wear.

His boots crunch ridged impressions into the top crust and compact the snow down to the parking lot pavement, as he makes his way toward the glowing entrance.

Automatic doors welcome him into the dystopian shopping center, draped in white string lights, and faux evergreen garlands, tied with gaudy red-velvet bows and Christmas music echoes through the cavernous food court. The storm must have scared all the shoppers away for the night.

He makes his way in, past a handful of employees materializing behind food vendor counters, with a lone janitor shuffling about, carrying a broom and dustpan in his hands, intent to tackle any potential messes that might be littering the marble floor.

Teddy ignores several specialty boutiques—blaring dance club anthems—assuming their fashions might be too much for him, aesthetically and financially. He heads for the familiar department store at the far tip of the mall, where he’s purchased practical outfits before.

The squeaky pop diva proclaiming her only want for Christmas—is you—fades back in the main hall, as a smooth transition to a jazz ensemble invites him into the large department store, scattered with fellow last-minute-shoppers roaming about like zombies after the apocalypse.

He veers right, down the trail of masculine presenting mannequins dressed in casual street clothes, then athleisure wear, and finally pausing in front of a trio of porcelain faceless models, wearing button-downs tucked into dress slacks cinched with shiny belts and matching loafers.

“Can I help you find anything?” The slender boy with platinum hair, swept to one side, and big brown eyes sharply framed with electric blue liquid-liner, smiles broadly, awaiting Teddy’s response.

“Maybe?” Teddy reads his name tag, “Harlow… I need something to wear for a holiday party.” Normally he would dismiss any help with a “no thanks, just browsing” but the impending doom outside makes him want to get in and out of the mall even quicker than normal.

Harlow’s smile is brighter than his hair, glowing under the store’s aggressive spotlights. “Casual or formal?” He folds his arms and pinches his chin.

“Umm… probably pretty casual? I didn’t ask.” Teddy doesn’t do parties often.

“Follow me.” Harlow sashays into the forest of garment racks, weaving gracefully, before stopping at a long section of pants, hung neatly in size and color-coordinated rows. He twists on his narrow waist, eyeing Teddy and asking. “Waist and inseam?”

“Medium?” Teddy jokes. “Thirty-six, thirty-two.” He chuckles at himself.

Harlow smirks and rolls his eyes, pulling several pairs in various colors off the rack, and moves toward a wall of dress shirts, hung like paintings on a gallery wall. He eyes Teddy’s torso, instead of asking, and gathers a bundle of button-downs.

“Let’s go try these on.” Harlow jerks his head, inviting Teddy to follow him to the dressing rooms. He leads him directly into a brightly lit closet, hanging the collection on a hook, behind the slatted door. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be right outside.” He gives Teddy a quick customer service smile, then closes him in and his footsteps click-clack away.

Teddy holds up each piece, eyeing the cuts, and feeling the fabrics between his fingertips. He slips out of his fleece-lined denim jacket, t-shirt and jeans, then into a pair of gray flat-front trousers and a crisp white-collared shirt. Smoothing both hands down his torso and he peeks at the right side of the triple- wrap mirrored walls to check how his own ass looks, pleasantly pleased with their hug of his curvaceous glutes.

“Sir?” Harlow softly knocks on the thin door. “How are you doing?”

Teddy swings it open. “Does this look okay?” He wrinkles his face and wings his arms out.

Harlow raises a limp wrist and spins his downward pointed finger, signing for Teddy to give him a twirl, as his blue-lined dark eyes trail downward.

Teddy slowly turns, watching his own reflection and catching the platinum boy arching a sculpted dark-brown brow at Teddy’s passing behind. Sold!

Harlow’s eyes rise, gleaming when Teddy makes the full turn. He flags a long finger, adorned with an electric-blue painted nail and says, “One sec!”

He returns seconds later with his arms behind his back. “Trust me?” He smirks, waiting for Teddy to agree.

Teddy nods, reluctantly.

Harlow presents a vest, covered in shimmering blue sequins, with a black silk back. His pupils dilate as he flashes a wide toothy grin.

Teddy stares at the gaudy eyesore he’d never consider—on his own, but shrugs and takes it from Harlow’s hands. He slips his arms in and tugs it around his belly, fastening its two buttons.

“Magical.” Harlow cheers, soft-clapping his hands, excitedly.

Teddy studies himself in the three-way mirrors, silently. Then meeting his own gaze and dreamily imagining Nichol’s surprised reaction. “You know what… Let’s ring it all up.”

Harlow glances down at Teddy’s worn work boots with wet patches. “Do we have shoes to wear?”

“ We do not,” Teddy responds with a chuckle.

“Get changed.” Harlow swings the door shut again.

Teddy does as commanded and then trails the quick-strutting twink—huffing to keep up—into the shoe department, with the white shirt, flashy vest, and gray pants draped over his forearm.

Harlow goes directly for a pair of black leather fashion sneakers with white soles. “What size?” he asks, dangling the sample off his fingers.

“Twelve.”

“Mmm.” Harlow hums, slowly scanning Teddy from head to toe.

He disappears into a back room and emerges again, holding a shoebox. “Try them on?”

“I’ll take them.” Teddy wants to get home before the roads are worse.

Harlow ducks behind the nearest cash register and scans the items in. “He’s going to be gaga over you,” he winks.

Teddy’s cheeks flush and his mouth curls up.

Harlow smiles, pleased by the verification of his own prediction. “Two hundred and thirty five, sixty-seven.”

Ouch! Teddy hands over his credit card, with trepidation, and collects the sleek glossy paper bag with black-silk ribbon handles. He thanks Harlow for his help, before trodding back out to the little truck, now covered in a thick layer of sticky snow.

The barrage of falling flakes hasn't let up one bit and the roads are invisible under the piling sheet with only tire tracks from previous travelers to guide the way.

Teddy slowly creeps up the road, white-knuckling the journey home, keeping the radio volume turned low so he can hear over the crunching cast of freezing snow under the truck’s tires, and his own thoughts. With most of his focus on the treacherous roads, he makes mental notes of the tasks he’ll finish tonight and tomorrow. Finish baking the pies and a batch of doughnuts, if there’s time.

He’s excited to join the Anderson’s holiday celebration. Even if it’s just from the friend zone. Brett Hinkly and Nichol really would make a stunning couple. Maybe Teddy should just stick to focusing on the business and forget about romance altogether.

This storm is out of hand.

He shouldn’t have put-off replacing the all-weather tires, with the truck’s studded winter options, this late in the season.

Reflective mile-markers appear in the blizzard's chaotic void, tracking the little Ranger’s progress, and letting him know there’s just two miles left to go. The last traveler’s tracks are nearly whited-out by wind driven flakes, so large their intricate patterns are visible to the naked eye.

Windshield wipers squeal at the next exit 1 more mile , sign blipping into focus. He eases his stiff leg off the gas pedal, letting the truck slow naturally, and gently turns the steering wheel.

The rear of the truck skids around, and he reacts, whipping the wheel in a frenzy, to try and counter the vehicle’s spin, aiming the cab back toward the direction he’s just come from, as the bed takes the lead and the truck gathers speed, sliding sideways and flipping around, so he’s facing forward again, on the incline of the exit. The guardrail quickly approaches, in the headlight beams, slicing through the dark.

His heart races and his head dizzies as the truck twirls three more rotations, before slamming against the steel rails bracketing the road. His forehead bounces off the glass window and he’s thrown back into the center of the cab but caught by the seat belt and catapulted forward against the steering wheel, knocking the air from his chest.

The vehicle abruptly halts, crashing backwards into a snowbank, throwing heaps of slush up over the windshield, landing in thudding clumps on the truck’s hood, releasing a rushed cloud of steam as the motor dies.

Teddy’s back smashes against the seat and he locks his elbows to keep his body from bouncing again. A warm liquid drools down the side of his face and his head throbs.

A set of headlights, heading straight for him, is blinding and he closes his eyes, braced for impact.