Twelve Months of Kristal

3. Why, Santa, Why?

3

Why, Santa, Why?

KRISTAL

“You ended my date.”

I cringe, even though I suspected this confrontation might happen the moment Eloa ran out of the restaurant. I wish I could say this is the first time such a thing has happened, but it totally isn’t. Hearing someone you love is about to die puts things in hyper perspective for most folks. You’d be surprised how many people just bounce when I tell them. Especially when they’re on dates with people they’re not in love with, which I guess Eloa wasn’t, no matter how perfect they looked together.

So no, this isn’t the first time I’ve been left to deal with the messy aftermath of a date cut short. And it’s not the first time I’ve been confronted by a woman or man wanting to know what the hell is going on.

But this is the first time I’ve ever been confronted by a total Adonis. I mean, he is so hot. So hot. My entire body burns under his direct gaze, and I’m afraid it might be more than my nerdy elf heart can handle if I dare to look up.

Why is this happening to me? Why, Santa, why?

“Yeah, I guess I did,” I mumble, keeping my eyes glued to my plate, even though the first course is way past gone. “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry about that?” he repeats. “You’ve ended my date at the beginning of a seven-course meal, and all you have to say is ‘sorry about that.’”

His accent is, like him, insanely gorgeous. Not quite East Asian, not quite British, but balancing on a smooth in-between, like it could go either way.

“Really, really sorry about that?” I edit, still not looking up.

Usually, I offer to pay for the abandoned dinners so that the person left behind at least feels like they got a free meal out of their raw deal. But c’mon, this is one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. Plus, it’s the eleventh day of Christmas. With less than twenty-four hours to go until the twelve days of Christmas are over, I’ve got hmm…maybe enough to leave a tiny tip for my waiter. Maybe.

“Are you aware that you’ve cut short an already paid for arrangement?”

Okay, well, I never quite got that wishing a hole would open up beneath you to save you from an embarrassing situation cliché before. But now I do. I totally, totally do.

I swallow. “No, I wasn’t aware of that,” I say, feeling terrible.

I’m kind of wishing now that Santa hadn’t raised us all to deliver zero judgment on anyone’s s****l proclivities, humans or elves. Otherwise, I might not have felt so bad about cheating this voice above me out of his paid date. Although the reason someone as ridiculously fine as this guy would buy a date is beyond me.

“I wish I could pay you back, but…” I stop, remembering the credit card Santa gave us all in case of emergencies. This wasn’t quite an emergency, but Santa was out of town at the moment, trying to get his new Mrs. Claus to come back to him. And I still had a few comics I could sell off. Maybe I could run out tomorrow between rehearsal for Krista’s Twelve Drummers piece and the official performance and acquire the human money to pay Santa back.

“Actually, I have a credit card I could use. How much did you pay for the meal and the ah…date?”

“The meal is free. Chef Ito is a personal friend.”

“Oh great,” I say, letting out a huge sigh of relief.

“But as for my date with Eloa, that costs…”

I choke on the number he quotes. A figure so high, I’m pretty sure it exceeds the limit on the card Santa gave me.

“I’m sorry,” I reply, still unable to understand why a guy this amazing in the face would pay so much for one date. “But I don’t think I can pay you back, not even if I sold my entire comic book collection.”

My confession is met with several beats of silence.

Then he says, “You could take her place.”

My belly flips, and my eyes unglue from the plate as they fly up to stare at him. Because what the Santa? Did he…?

Did he just ask me to take the place of his date?