“Cap.” Frankie’s eye twitched at his friend. “Don’t be a scrooge. Maybe O is right. We could use a little holiday sprucing.” He nudged me with a shoulder and winked at the pun.
Natalia and Mateo groaned as I high-fived Frankie. I could afford him one geeky tree pun if he was the only one on my side. I wasn't sure he was on my side, so much as he was trying to get in my pants—but he was on a mission for the latter anyway, and I could use his sway with this.
“So, yes?” I steepled my fingers together and stuck out my bottom lip.
The three of them shared a few hesitant looks before Frankie tilted his head and shrugged at his best friend.
“Fuck, fine.” Mateo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Get in the car.”
8
There was a ten-minute ride across Coconut Creek with Nat and I tucked into the backseat of Mateo’s truck while the boys argued over the height of their living room ceiling from the front.
If it were up to Frankie, I would have gone gallivanting in his clothes all day, completely unshowered, but even Mateo had the mind to make a pitstop for us back at the apartment.
I hadn’t exactly had a chance to settle in the night before—going from the airport, to dinner, and then chaotically unpacking every item of clothing from my luggage while playing mix ‘n match with Natalia’s closet. The guest room had turned from pleasantly primped and welcoming to “department store on Black Friday” in a matter of minutes, and my pre-game brain never slowed down long enough to fix it. It was a sight for already sore eyes as I dashed in and out of the room with no time to clean despite the way I itched to organize.
My shower was much quicker than I preferred given the company lurking around, and I couldn’t exactly leave the bathroom nude like I would have if it were just Nat and me. So, I skipped across the hallway into my bedroom wearing Frankie’s clothes again with my hair wrapped in a towel.
“It looks like a bomb went off in here.”
“Jesus Christ,” I gasped with a hand over my chest. I turned to find Frankie lying on the bed with his hands under his head, surrounded by the disarray of my belongings and half-opened suitcase.
“I appreciate the sentiment, beautiful. But you can just call me Frankie.”
“Get out.” I pointed a finger toward the door.
“You know, there are perfectly good drawers for all of this?” He began rooting around in the pile next to him until something caught his eye.
“Yeah, well I didn’t exactly expect to have a man in my bed this morning.”
“Surprise,” he replied, half to me and half to the lacy red pair of panties he lifted off the bed and dangled from his fingers. “Wear these for me?”
“Get fucked.”
“I’m trying.”
I grunted and flipped the towel off my head, ignoring him and the twinge in my lower stomach. I sorted around the floor and the mattress for shorts, a tee, and the light zip-up sweater I’d worn on the plane—actively ignoring my pair of panties and how tiny and…shreddable they looked in Frankie’s hands.
“Fine, I’ll just imagine it for myself.” He stretched the cherry red elastic from ear to ear over his face, the crotch lying perfectly over his sharp nose.
“Give me those,” I scolded him, hopping onto the bed to snatch them away. Frankie chuckled when I finally wrestled them out of his grasp. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be besides up my ass?”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Don’t fucking say anything,” I rebuked, kicking myself.
“We’ll call it even, then.” He smirked. “And no, Cap and Tally are summoning spirits so I figured I’d take a page out of your book and give myself a tour.”
“Go and tour the kitchen.”
“Sure. Right after I get my clothes back.”
I looked down at the outfit I was wearing over my freshly showered body. I might have tried to steal the sweater all together in true one-night-stand fashion if I thought I’d never see him again. It fit like an oversized glove.
“Right now?”
“Take ‘em off.”
“I’m not wearing anything under it.”
“I’ll close my eyes.”
“Oh, okay, in that case…” I shoved an arm up the inside of the sweater, letting my hand disappear. Frankie sat up off the pillows in anticipation as I brought the same hand back out a few seconds later sporting a middle finger.
“You’re a cold woman.” He frowned, standing from the bed and walking toward the door. “I think you’re enjoying this as much as me, though.”
“Out.” I crossed my arms over my chest when he got close enough that we were sharing air.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Frankie said, then snagged the red panties out of my hand, tucking them into the pocket of his shorts before walking out the door.
“What are we even looking for?” Mateo lifted his sunglasses off his face, squinting at the rows of trees lined up under string lights in the supermarket parking lot.
The makeshift tree lot left much to be desired. It was run by a dirty looking man living in a trailer parked along the fence, still donning a fanny pack around his waist and a mullet unironically from the eighties and sucking on a wooden toothpick.
“Whatever one speaks to you,” I told Mateo as the group of us walked alongside the first row of fluffy Fraser firs.
He snorted. “Honey, I don’t know much about the verbal communication of trees in Colorado, but in Florida they don’t whisper sweet nothings.”
“Don’t be a scrooge, Mateo.” Nat came to my rescue, running her fingers across the needles of a tree. Frankie followed behind at my heels as I sized up a shorter, thicker one.
In all the winters growing up, the one thing I always looked forward to was picking out a tree. Mom, Dad, and I would squeeze together in the bench seat of the old Ford pickup and hold on for dear life as it rattled down the road toward Quail Creek Ranch. My father insisted the best trees were the furthest up the hill, so far that no one in their right minds would ever want to haul a tree that distance, but Mom and I would laugh and hook arms, following anyways and giving the thumbs-up when he finally declared he’d found the “best looking Christmas tree in all of Colorado”. Neither of us had the heart to tell him we’d passed twenty trees that looked exactly the same on the hike, but that was part of the tradition. One I held onto for as many years as I could before the magic ran out.
“What about this one?” Frankie suggested, standing a tree up on its stump and giving it a twirl so everyone could see.
“It’s too tall,” Mateo pointed out.
“You’re just short.” Frankie put his elbow on his best friend’s head like an armrest and got a playful punch to the ribs.
“I think it’s beautiful, Francesco,” Nat told him, sticking her tongue out at Mateo.
“What do you think, O?” Frankie only cared for my approval as I walked a circle around the fir and eyed it up and down. The branches were healthy and thick, no gaping holes where pine needles should have been. I was sure the ornaments back at the house were few and far between, but what little the boys did have would fit nicely.
“I like it,” I admitted, giving him an impressed nod of approval.