Santa’s Coming (High Five Novella #1)

Chapter 9 Holiday Mayhem

Saturday, December 21st

The bar is buzzing, and here I am, caught in the whirlwind of festive frenzy. Juggling orders, mixing drinks, the clinking of glasses—it’s a symphony of chaos. I’m not usually behind the bar, but tonight, it’s all hands on deck. The holiday theme is a hit, a magnet for crowds seeking a slice of Christmas cheer.

“Who’s that?” Aaron’s curiosity is a distraction I can’t afford, yet I can’t resist engaging. I’m drawn back to Emily’s photo, a secret thrill amidst the mayhem.

“Fuck,” I mutter, probably staring a second too long. “A naughty little elf,” I reply with a wink, trying to mask my growing frustration and excitement.

“Emily!” Aaron's surprised expression mirrors my inner turmoil.

I manage a mischievous shrug before directing him back to the patrons, but my mind is elsewhere.

Taking a moment, I steal away from the bar, needing to savor this unexpected flirtation. Her reply is a jolt of electricity. Flirty, forward. I’m torn between the demands of the bar and this budding connection. Ignoring her feels like risking the flirtation we’ve started, yet the bar is relentless tonight.

Santa: So much for the nice list. You look incredible!

Emily: I thought you might like the red.

Emily’s message lights up my screen, and suddenly, the crowded bar fades into the background.

Santa: I like what’s in and around the red a whole lot.

Emily: The other day, when you texted me, I was so turned on I was squirming in my seat.

It’s a dance of words and wishes, a tantalizing tease. I’m caught in a tug-of-war between my role as Santa and the man behind the beard, craving more than just festive banter. I thought a fresh start would be good, but most nights, it’s just me and my thoughts in an empty bar. It gets lonely, more than I’d like to admit. I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time. It’s thrilling but terrifying. I keep asking myself, what if this doesn’t work out? What if I’m not enough?

It's time for Santa to make a move, to keep the magic alive before the clock strikes reality. She doesn’t know who I am beneath this jolly facade, and I want her to.

Santa: How about I see you on Christmas Eve?

As I send the message, the bar’s chaos calls me back, a reminder of my reality. But for a moment, in the midst of the holiday rush, there’s a flicker of something more, something exciting and terrifyingly new. It’s a Christmas gamble, and I’m all in.