How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

Despite the grim distance, the happy humpers made it work.

Through texts, randy photos, and passing by with a smirk.

We are sad, they are sad, everyone’s sad the thrusting has ended,

but now it’s competition time, and everyone has attended.

“Are you ready for this?” Max asks as he rubs my shoulders as we stand at our workstation.

I swat him away. “Can you not do that?”

“You look tense. I thought you needed it.”

I’m tense because it’s been two days since I’ve been able to kiss or even see Storee, and now that I’m waiting for her to arrive at the Candy Cane Showdown, I’m anxious.

It hasn’t stopped us from talking though.

We’ve been texting, communicating. She’s been sending suggestive pictures, and I’ve been dying inside that she’s just a house away and we can’t do anything about it.

Ever since Taran came home and saw that Storee didn’t do anything that she’d asked—because Storee was doing me—Taran has been on her case about the lights and about practicing for the caroling portion of the competition. Hence, she hasn’t been able to sneak away.

But something has to change because, yeah, I’m tense and I don’t want to lose the momentum we have. I don’t want to lose her as Christmas approaches.

“I’m not tense,” I lie to Max. “Just focused.”

“Uh-huh, focused, is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask as I turn to look at him.

“You think I don’t see what’s been happening?” he whispers. “You’re abandoning me for her.”

Jesus.

Christ.

“Please tell me you’re not serious,” I deadpan.

“And this is exactly why I didn’t want to bring it up,” he says, crossing his arms. “I knew you were just going to brush me off and act like it’s nothing. Well, it’s something to me.” He points to his chest. “You didn’t even practice with me on this candy cane-making stuff. How can I be a good holly jolly sidekick if I don’t know what I’m doing? Fortunately for you, even though you abandoned me, I won’t treat you the same way. I had a private lesson with Jefferson Chadwick myself after calling in a favor.”

“You…what? You did?”

“Yes.” He crosses his arms again. “I did. And I learned everything we need to know to win this competition—something I feel like you’ve forgotten about.”

“Hold on,” I say, holding up my hand. “When did you become so invested in winning?”

“I’m invested because you’re invested.”

I shake my head. “Not buying it. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Max says defiantly.

“Tell me.”

“There’s nothing going on,” he repeats.

“Atlas,” I say, using his real name, which I very rarely do. “Tell me.”

The real name does it. He sighs and then leans against the wall behind him. “I ran into Dwight Yokel on the farm, and he was making fun of us for being in third, and I didn’t appreciate the criticism.”

“Dwight Yokel?” I say, unimpressed. “Max, that guy has been trying to get under your skin since high school, and you’re letting him.”

“Yeah, I am, so get your head out of Storee’s cleavage and let’s win this thing.”

“First of all, don’t degrade her like that, and second of all, just because we’re actually seeing each other, that doesn’t take away from me trying to still win this—”

I pause just as I catch Storee walking through the door, with Taran pushing Cindy in her wheelchair. Storee is wearing a red cropped jacket that shows off a pair of high-waisted jeans. Her hair is pulled back into two braids, and she has matching red lips which are calling out to me.

I want to see that color rubbed all across my dick.

I wet my lips when she makes eye contact with me, her eyes traveling over my green-and-black flannel and then back up to my face. She offers me a wink and I swear I can feel my heartbeat in my throat.

“Uh…you were saying something about not getting distracted,” Max says while leaning in close to me.

“Yes,” I say as I turn away from Storee and focus on Max. “We’re still going to win this.”

“Uh-huh, and when we’re making candy canes, are you going to be able to keep your eyes off her? Because sorry to say but that shirt she’s wearing is pretty low-cut.”

I look over my shoulder and my mouth waters at the sight of said shirt. Fuck me. She’s unzipped her jacket to reveal a square neckline that cuts low to her breasts, the green color looking beautiful against her skin. And with the way she has it tucked in, showing off her curvy frame…yup, I’d have no problem asking her out after this. Maybe I should, as a fake date for the town but a real date between the two of us.Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

“Not going to be a problem,” I say to Max. “Excuse me for a second.”

“Sure,” I hear him huff behind me.

I walk over to her station where she’s setting her things up, and because Taran is near, I put on a smile but say, “I hope you burn your sugar.”

Her eyes flash up to mine, and they glint as she smirks. “And here I thought that maybe you might be nice to me today.”

“What gave you that impression?” I ask, sticking my hands in my pockets so I don’t touch her.

“The holiday spirit?”

I shake my head. “Nope, I plan on making the best candy cane Old Man Chadwick has ever seen.”

“Do you call him that to his face?” she asks as she sets down a vial of liquid I assume is her flavoring. We haven’t spoken much about our plans for the competition, and that’s probably for the best since Max seems to be having some sort of crisis about winning now.

“I don’t. That’s a special pet name I gave him for myself and myself only.”

I watch as she tries to hold back her smile. She fails miserably so she tilts her head down and pretends to adjust her bowl.

“Ah, there they are, my new favorite couple,” Martha says as she walks up to us, Mae trailing behind. “You know, if you connect your candy canes together, they’ll make a heart.”

Just the two people I need.

With them around, I can touch Storee as much as I fucking want.

I move over to Storee, pull her into my chest, and try not to lean in too hard to get a better smell of her hair. “That’s what I’ve been telling her, Martha. But she’s kept her recipe a secret. We haven’t connected candy canes in days.”

“I do enjoy a competitive spirit in a girl.” Martha winks at her. “Are there plans for any other dates? I feel like we haven’t seen you two out and about much.”

“Busy with candy cane making,” I say. “But I was planning on taking her to the farm tonight.”

“You were?” Storee asks.

“You were?” Taran repeats, leaning in to the conversation as well.

I glance around at all the expectant faces and nod. “Yup. Want to introduce her to the reindeer.”

“That will be so sweet,” Martha says.

“And romantic,” Mae chimes in.

“And smelly,” Taran mumbles as she walks away.

Martha gives Taran the stink eye and then whispers to us, “Looks like someone is missing the Christmas spirit.”

“She’s just upset about our light display. Don’t worry about her,” Storee says, defending her sister.

“Ah, I see, well, you’re still in the lead, so no need to worry. If anyone should be worrying, it’s this guy,” Martha says, thumbing toward me.

“Not worried,” I say. “Max and I have this one in the stocking.” I wink and Martha chuckles.

“Well, good luck to both of you,” Martha coos and then she and her sister move toward a pair of chairs in the front.

We’re once again in the school gymnasium with our own stations set up. But unlike last time when I was next to Storee, this time Jimmy Short is between us. Probably best so I won’t get as distracted.

“So, the farm tonight?” she whispers.

“Only if you want to,” I whisper back.

Her eyes meet mine. “I want to.”

“Okay, you good to go after this?”

“Yup.” She grins, and just to put on a show for the town, I tilt her chin up and press a very soft kiss to her lips, eliciting a round of ahhs through the gym. When I pull away, I catch the glare in Taran’s eyes, so I offer her a wink and then take off toward my station where I find Max looking over a recipe in his hand.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“A recipe I found online.” He pulls a vial from his pocket. “It’s pineapple flavoring. I think we go with the same theme as the fruitcake.”

“No,” I say, moving past him. “Have you lost your fucking mind? We’re not bringing back pineapple. That was a mistake, and we’re not making it again. We’re making a traditional candy cane, and we’re going to impress with our technique, not our flavoring.”

“Fine,” he grumbles and pockets the vial. “But can we at least make it a triple-striped candy cane with red, green, and white?”

“That I think we can do,” I say as I move toward our station. “Okay, let’s make a quick plan.”

Storee

“Is something going on between the two of you?” Taran hisses in my ear while I watch the thermometer on my sugar.

“What?” I ask, not looking at her because I don’t think I could look her in the eye. “No, why would you think that?”

“Uh, because of the way you keep glancing over at him, the way he keeps glancing over at you, and the kiss right before this competition started.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “That’s all part of his plan to make the town think we’re together. I have to match his energy or else I come off looking like the asshole who won’t date the hometown hero. It’s annoying. Come on, Taran, you know what I’ve been dealing with.”

I can feel Taran’s eyes on me. Studying, seeing if I’ll break.

But I don’t.

“Yeah, I guess that is kind of annoying,” she replies.

“And now I have to go to his freaking farm tonight because he told Martha I would. Probably just going to sit in the barn and stare at the hay until an appropriate amount of time has passed.” I inject annoyance into my voice despite being filled with glee.

I’ve been so busy with Taran and Aunt Cindy the last two days that I haven’t been able to focus on finding time to be with Cole, and it’s been driving me crazy. Sure, the texts are nice, and the pictures he’s sent me of himself lying in bed shirtless and sad that I wasn’t with him have been great to stare at, but they haven’t been enough.

I want to be able to touch him, have him hold me…kiss me.

“That is annoying because I could have used your help looking at some new lights I’ve been thinking about purchasing.”

“You know, maybe we can talk about this a little bit later,” I say as the temperature of the sugar reaches 320 degrees.

“Maybe tomorrow at breakfast—I’m going to get to bed early tonight.”

“Sure,” I say as I lift the pot off the heat and bring it over to the marble slab where I pour it out. I glance past Jimmy, who’s adding air into his sugar, and spot Cole and Max whispering to each other. It looks like a disagreement because Cole shakes his head and Max seems adamant.

Those two…they’re ridiculous.

I set the pot on a trivet and then pick up one of the spatulas to start flipping the sugar over, adding air to it and letting it cool down. After a few minutes, I divide the sugar up. I put red food coloring in one portion, knead it and set it to the side. And then I put the peppermint in the other and move that around, the fragrance strong as my hands start to grow tired from all the kneading. This is where Cole came in handy as he did most of the grunt work with the sugar.

Ugh. Hand aching, I bring my sugar lump over to the hook behind my station, loop it around and start to pull, but my hands are tired, and the sugar still feels hot despite wearing gloves. Panic sets in as I realize that if I don’t start really pulling, I could mess up this whole thing.

I tug and loop…tug and loop, but after the third round, I’m exhausted, and the sugar hasn’t fully changed into white yet. I’m about to step back when I feel a warm body come up behind me.

“Let me help,” I hear Cole say as he brings my hands back up, and together we pull on the sugar, looping it back around the hook over and over until it’s pure white and ready to go. I remove the sugar from the hook and turn toward Cole. He smiles at me and then kisses the tip of my nose, causing the crowd to let out another round of ahhhs.

He sure knows how to work them.

Thankfully, I know whatever he’s handing out is real, even though it’s supposed to be fake in my family’s eyes.

“Thank you,” I say to him. I glance over my shoulder to where Taran is writing in her notebook while simultaneously showing something to Aunt Cindy on her notepad. So I whisper to him, “I’ll pay you back later tonight.”

“Looking forward to it.” And then he jogs back to his station where Max is lining up their colors and making a striped blanket like we learned. Kind of wish Taran would jump in and help, but she doesn’t want Aunt Cindy to need anything and we’re both distracted. So I’m doing this on my own.

I spend the next twenty minutes putting my base together, stretching it out, which again is hard and tiring, and my forearms are on fire, but once I start cutting and shaping, I can see my product come to life and I love it.

They look like real candy canes.

Even if they’re simple and not original, I still love what I was able to do, with a little help from Cole, of course.

To the right, there’s a giant clock that’s counting down our time, and I finish up my last candy cane just as the clock runs out. We were supposed to make two dozen identical candy canes, and honestly, I feel really good about what I did.

I look down the line and observe everyone’s different take on the classic sugary confection.

Jimmy did a green-and-yellow candy cane.

Cole and Max went with red, green, and white. Wow, okay. Theirs look pretty cool.

Ursula made…are those hearts? Uh-oh, not sure that was a smart move given how cranky and exacting Jefferson Chadwick seems when it comes to tradition.

And then at the very end, Beatrice Pedigree seems to have created pink-and-red candy canes. I wonder if those are strawberry-flavored. Possibly cherry. Or could be peppermint as well.

Who knows?

All I know is that Jefferson Chadwick is stepping up to the tables, not bothering with the fanfare that Bob Krampus usually puts on when it comes to these competitions. He adjusts his glasses on his nose, holds a clipboard close to his chest, and starts with Beatrice.

I watch as he picks up one of her candy canes, examines it, taps it on the counter, and then lines up each candy cane she made and goes down the line, comparing all of them.

I glance at my batch and feel inferior as I pick out all the flaws that I didn’t notice when I was making them. The curves aren’t all the same. The heights aren’t matching up. And did I twist the colors enough?

I gnaw on the corner of my lip as I look up and catch him moving down the line, clearly disgusted with Ursula’s heart candy canes. That was a very bold choice that I knew wasn’t going to pay off, from just one look at Jefferson Chadwick.

Now standing in front of Cole and Atlas who…are they linking arms? I hold back my smile as Atlas bounces in place, looking far too excited, while Cole sticks his hands in his pockets, his expression neutral. While Chadwick studies their candy canes, I find myself studying Cole.

His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing off his impressive forearms that bounce and bulge as he moves. His shoulders are broad, but not too bulky like a weightlifter, longer and leaner. His jaw is covered in the thick scruff that I’ve felt scrape deliciously over my body. His lips are perfect, the bottom one being a touch fuller than the top—I know this because I’ve pulled on it with my teeth. And those eyes, they’re hooded by thick brows and highlighted by long, dark lashes. Growing up, I always thought he was cute, but seeing him as a man now, he’s practically irresistible.

He glances over in my direction, pulling his attention from Old Man Chadwick, and when he catches me checking him out, the sexiest grin tugs on the corners of his mouth. I feel my cheeks heat up as I glance back down at my candy canes, unable to maintain eye contact because I fear what Taran might notice.

The situation is difficult to navigate. We have to act like we hate each other while pretending to date, even though we are actually sort of seeing each other. It’s complicated and hard to process, especially when Taran and Aunt Cindy are around, because I don’t want them to think that I’m giving up on the competition. I still very much want to win.

Jefferson Chadwick moves over to Jimmy’s table where Jimmy stands with pride, hands clasped behind his back, looking extremely confident. His candy canes look rather good from where I stand, very thick, about the diameter of a quarter, but the color is an odd choice, and when I catch Chadwick take a taste, his eyebrows shoot up and then bunch together as he makes a note on his clipboard.

Oof, that doesn’t seem like it will bode well for Jimmy.

Chadwick makes a few more notes and then steps up to me. I feel my legs tremble with nerves as he examines each candy cane, picking them up and looking at the way the sugar has hardened. He brings the end of one of the candy canes to his mouth and takes a taste, before setting it back down. He jots down some things and then without a word walks over to Bob Krampus and hands him the clipboard.

Sheesh.

For someone who owns a candy shop, you’d think he would be—no pun intended—sweeter, but he’s just a big grump with no hair, apart from bushy eyebrows that seem to curl and stand out of their own volition.

Bob Krampus in all his Santa glory takes a microphone from Mrs. Claus and then holds it up to his mouth as he roars out a hearty ho-ho-ho.

You have to give the man credit for his dedication to the character—never breaking, never showing anyone an ounce of identity besides Santa.

“Mr. Chadwick has spoken, and we have a winner for the best candy cane this Kringle season.” He looks at the paper and then smiles. “In fifth place, we have Ursula Kronk—with a note from Mr. Chadwick saying he didn’t like the heart shape.”

Yup, called that one.

The crowd politely applauds and Ursula leans against her table, looking none too pleased.

“In fourth place…” Please not me, please not me. “…we have Beatrice Pedigree.”

Thank Jesus.

“Mr. Chadwick liked your shapes but was not a fan of the strawberry flavoring.”

Strawberry, I was right. Yeah, I wouldn’t have ventured out with a new flavor.

“In third place…” I cross my fingers behind my back, really hoping I can get top two. “We have Storee Taylor with her classic candy cane.” Damn it. I smile and nod at Jefferson. “Mr. Chadwick enjoyed your traditional rendition but marked you down for not being able to pull your own sugar.”

Well, sorry for not having forearms of steel.

“In second place, we have…” He pauses like he always does, leaving the town on edge, and then into the mic he says, “Cole Black and his holly jolly sidekick, putting Jimmy Short in first!” The crowd cheers, and Jimmy fist-pumps the air as we all move toward the front of our tables and line up together. I happen to move in next to Cole, where his arm brushes against mine, sending warmth through me.

When the crowd has died down, Bob Krampus continues, “Mr. Chadwick was very impressed with Cole’s three-striped candy cane, but what won him over was the pineapple flavoring that Jimmy was able to incorporate.”

I hear a stunned gasp, and when I glance to the side, an angry-looking Atlas is staring Cole down. “I fucking told you we should have done pineapple,” Atlas mutters.

And to his credit, Cole mutters back, “You were right, dear.”