I spent Christmas Eve the way most people spend Christmas Eve: trimming the tree, nogging egg, eating pigs in a blanket and pizza bagels, and gritting their teeth.
It was probably the third Winter Lager that made me text Nicole, but it led to some killer-text banter. We traded dysfunctional family stories, trying to one up the other while a seven year old nagged at me to put the phone away. I tried my best to be stealthy but as the fourth Winter Lager makes me lose that ability. The fourth, mixed with a barrage of annoying relatives made me also try and be spontaneous. It hit me that Nicole was at her grandfather’s. Blocks away. So I texted her.
You want to ditch the family for ten minutes and hang out.
After a few minutes my back pocket buzzed.
Are you drunk?
Slightly, but c’mon. I’ll bring you coffee.
I take it light.
And with that I stumbled through a few cabinets, finding a few travel mugs, stole some coffee and slipped out the basement door.
As I reached the end of the block I saw a familiar blonde head, covered in a black beanie.
Hey.
Wow, you are drunk.
Good thing I have coffee.
She wasn’t really amused, so I told her I was sorry. I gave her cup.
Black right? That got the smile out of her.
It’s not Irish is it?
That’s ridiculous. I don’t weaken my Jameson.
She sipped her coffee while complaining about her uncle. I wasn’t really paying attention, mostly just drunkenly staring at her lips and eyes. I smiled and nodded along, but I really wanted to just drunkenly kiss her. After ten or so minutes she says:
Well, I should probably head back.
Yeah, probably.
Thanks for the coffee.
I smiled at her. An awkward beat followed by a confusion of how to part. She gave me a hug, tussled my hair and walked away. As I walked back in my door I get a text:
I had a great time, maybe next time we can try for twenty minutes
