Santa’s Coming (High Five Novella #1)

Chapter 11 Christmas Eve

Tuesday, December 24th

The month of December always flies by. There is a never-ending stream of holiday parties, school concerts, and yuletide obligations. It’s been two weeks since I first encountered Saint Nick himself—Santa, as he’s saved in my phone. Why haven’t I unraveled the mystery behind the man in the red suit? Why am I caught in the spell of Santa’s allure? It’s all delightfully mad.

As the days tiptoe toward Christmas, a flurry of preparations surrounds me, but my connection with Santa lingers in my thoughts. Our exchanges, sprinkled with playful banter and subtle flirtation, have become a delightful highlight of my days. With Christmas Eve here, my phone chimes. I eagerly open my newest message.

Santa: Emily, it’s Santa here. I hope I’m not on your naughty list for texting you right now. ??

His playful tone prompts a grin, and my fingers dance across the screen as I craft my reply.

Emily: Not at all. Stockings hung, presents wrapped and under the tree. All set!

Santa: Won’t spill the secret, but I’m sure you’re the best Santa. I come a close second—in this way and others.

My heart skips a beat at the suggestive invitation. Clearly, this man is not coming over here to just give me a foot rub. It’s going to be more—something I’ve been wishing for but haven’t said aloud. I take a deep breath before replying.

Emily: Are you coming down my chimney, or should I leave the front door unlocked?

Santa: A gentleman always knocks.

Emily: Softly knock right at 8 p.m.

Santa: Dasher and Dancer will have me there in a flash.

The anticipation builds within me, and a mixture of excitement and nervousness courses through my veins. I text my BFF group chat.

Emily: Santa’s coming … He’ll be here in an hour.

Rachel: Excuse me, who is this, and what have you done with Emily?

Sarah: Get it, girl!!

Emily: So, if I go missing … it was Santa.

The idea of Santa’s imminent arrival at my door is surreal, considering I don’t even know his real name. ’Tis the season, they say, and I shake my head at the delightful absurdity of it all.

The clock ticks away the minutes until a soft knock at the door sends a mix of excitement and trepidation zipping through me. Before opening the door, I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. There stands Santa, mischief twinkling in his eyes. He’s in the same red suit and Santa hat he was wearing at the bar. In the brighter light of my front stoop, I take note of more details about him. He’s giving my top two dream dates, Sebastian Stan and Theo James, a run for their money as the hottest guys on the planet.

“Merry Christmas, Emily,” his deep, sexy voice greets me, and I notice a small, beautifully wrapped box in his hands.