When I spot my parents and Holly just a few feet away, I make for their side of the room, determined to put the morning behind me and make a new start.
But before I can reach them, the cameras move into place, Christmas music swells in the background, and I’ve got no choice but to put the conversation on hold as we all move into our roles as a happy family about to decorate a giant tree. All of us are sipping hot cocoa from red and green mugs and sharing a good laugh when my own Christmas song slips into the mix and Sir Dasher Dashaway starts dancing on his hind legs and barking excitedly.
Tinsley arrives, arms loaded with gifts, and the others soon follow, mostly friends of the family I don’t recognize, except for Dougall, of course. Still, with all of us together, well, even though we’re filming, it really does make for a scene so cozy, so postcard perfect, it’s easy to settle right in and pretend that it’s real.
It’s every picture you’ve seen of the ideal Christmas.
Or at least that’s what I think until my mom claps her hands and says, “Time for presents!” and I realize I never took the time to go out and buy any. But apparently Ezer has my back once again, because when my mom starts handing out gifts, most are from me. And they’re much better gifts than I would’ve found on my own.
When my mom opens a box containing the gold-and-diamond necklace I supposedly got her, she dabs the tears at the corners of her eyes and flashes me heart-fingers from her side of the room.
When my dad sees his shiny new golf clubs, he gives me a manly slap on the back and says something about the two of us hitting the course sometime soon.
Holly actually shrieks with joy when she opens her present to find the key to a new Vespa, hidden under a mound of red and green confetti that sprays all over the floor. Which is pretty much the polar opposite of last Christmas, when the Greentree Holly frowned at the gift card I got her and in her most sarcastic voice said, “Wow, thanks for putting a lot of thought and effort into my gift, Nick.”
They seem so happy and grateful it makes me feel guilty for taking the credit when they should be thanking Ezer, not me. I’ve been so focused on trying to kiss Tinsley I’d practically forgotten they even exist.
After Dougall thanks me for the new Xbox I supposedly got him, and I’m practically drowning in a pile of stuff my family bought me, Tinsley approaches from the far side of the room holding a slim, rectangular box in her hands, and I freeze when I realize there’s nothing left under the tree that I can pretend came from me.
I clear my throat and stare at Ezer, willing him to acknowledge me, but he refuses to so much as look. Leaving me to wing it on my own as Tinsley sits beside me and thrusts the box toward my chest.
I balance the gift in my hands, examining it from all sides in a pathetic attempt to stall for time. Fully aware of the camera zooming in, knowing I’m just moments away from revealing myself as the most clueless guy in TV history.
“Merry Christmas, Nick.” She grins excitedly, which only makes me feel guiltier.
“Um, thanks,” I mumble, knowing that sounded even worse on film than it did in my head.
“Hurry up, silly,” she says, watching me slip a hesitant finger along the edge of the ribbon. “I promise it won’t bite or explode.”
I tug on the ribbon until the whole thing unravels, then open the lid to find a single sheet of coffee-stained paper bearing the handwritten lyrics to my all-time favorite song, by my all-time favorite artist (aside from Josh Frost), signed at the bottom.
I’m speechless.
A gift like this isn’t random.
It required some serious scouting and planning.
It required Tinsley to do some pretty intense research on me, since I don’t remember ever mentioning it to her.
And suddenly, just like in Greentree, there’s no denying that this girl is truly out of my league.
“Do you like it?” The tremor in her voice betrays her nervousness. “I read in one of your interviews, I think it might’ve been in Teen Vogue, that it was your favorite song, and I thought that maybe…” She mashes her lips together, as though she fears she’s made a mistake.
“I love it.” I force the words from my mouth. “I don’t even know what to say.”
What I want to say is I failed you. I have nothing for you. I was so interested in trying to impress you and getting you to like me, mostly because you’re so pretty, that I never really tried to get to know you well enough to know what you’d want.
She blinks a few times. Heaves a dramatic, made-for-the-cameras sigh of relief. Though it’s not long before a look of expectation washes over her face, and that’s when my panic takes root.
I clear my throat again. Pathetic, I know. But how do you tell a girl who just gave you something amazing that you have nothing amazing to give in return?