blond curls of his hair escape from under a snug, knit beanie. Like watching a slow motion replay, Cora’s head cranes all the way around in owl-like fashion to follow him to the parking lot.
“Um…hello,” she breathes, still walking forward, and slams into an elaborately decorated display tree at the mouth of the entrance. Five or six from the hundreds of red crystal ornaments rattle off their branches and Cora attempts to catch them all like she’s juggling, but one crashes loudly to the gravel floor. “Crap.”
“Hey.” The blond boy jogs up to us, pine needles covering the flannel on his right shoulder. “I can get that for you.” He bends down to scoop up the shards of red glass that litter the walkway and bumps heads with Cora at the same time. Dazed, she lifts her head up to him and I can’t help but laugh because it looks like a scene straight out of a romantic comedy movie. “Hi,” he mouths, fulfilling that leading-man role to a T.
“Hey,” Cora whispers, locking her gaze with his. She wobbles on her legs as they both straighten up slowly in unison. “Hey,” she says again.
Well this is ridiculous. I audibly clear my throat. “So.” I pull the glass remains from Cora’s hand and deposit them in a nearby trashcan. “Can you help us find a tree for our dorm? It can’t be bigger than three feet in diameter.”
“Yeah, of course,” he nods, not looking at me at all though. He’s still staring at Cora like she’s the only person in the lot full of trees, even though there are at least twenty others coiling in and out of the rows of greenery. “Let’s see what we can find.”
The trees gradually get larger the further into the depths of the lot, so I stay close to the front and start perusing their inventory here. Cora and the tree lot worker hang back, and he’s busy describing something about the variations in plant species in a silly attempt to impress her, I guess, so decide to leave them to their conversation. Looks like Cora might have found her flavor of the week with this one.
“How about this?” I call over my shoulder. The tree standing before me is modest, not too Charlie Brown-ish, and should fit well in the limited amount of space we have available. “Cora?”
The echo of her flirtatious laugh bounces off the wall of trees surrounding us, and I notice her press a bold hand onto the workers chest right where his scarf drapes. “I never knew trees could be so fascinating,” I catch her say. Geez. She’s really laying it on thick.
I decide to abandon them and slip out into another row of Christmas trees to further continue the quest for the perfect one. I peel off several needles from a few and try to break them in half, assuming if they bend rather than split that it’s a good selection. But I don’t know the slightest thing about trees, so I’m sure I look absurd as I pace up and down the gravel aisles, de-needling the trees as I go. Maybe I should have paid attention to tree-boy’s spiel but the unabashed flirting is a little nauseating.
Then I see it. It’s not too tall, not too short, and bows out perfectly at the bottom, tapering to a beautiful point at the top. In my mind, it’s the perfect tree.
“Found one!” I hear Cora yell across the lot.
I pop my head out toward the sound. “Me too!”
“Mine’s better!”
Well, we’ll just see about that. I hike up my sleeves and roll the cuffs, preparing my arms to do some heavy lifting. I assess the tree to figure out the best way to get it from its current home to the back of my truck, and while I’m vacillating—wondering whether to drag it by its trunk or the point—another worker sidles up to my side. He has to be the other guy’s twin, because he’s the spitting image of him, only he has a plaid red and white scarf as opposed to a striped one.
“Can I help you with that?” he asks, those same dimples replicated on his cheeks. He has charming green eyes that smile just as much as his mouth, and when he reaches out toward the tree, my fingers unintentionally brush his skin.
“No,” I reply. “I’ve got it taken care of.”
His mouth opens like he’s about to challenge me, and then thinks better of it after seeing how