The Christmas Theory

Unwrapped

Besides, it was Christmas.

"Jeez, guys," Dex's voice sliced through our bubble. It was low and monotone, devoid of the usual melody that decorated it. "You shouldn't have. Really," he tried to smile, looking positively pained, "you shouldn't have."

I relaxed into James' side, raising my mug to hide the laugh I couldn't hold back. On Dex's lap sat a heap of torn wrapping, out from which he pulled a bright green sweater embroidered with an equally as green person.

Well, not a person, exactly.

Mrs. V didn't seem to catch his sarcasm. She shrouded him in a hug only a mother could give, motioning to her husband as he sandwiched Dex between them. "Of course, darling. Daddy and I know how much you love the Avengers gang."

"Yeah. When I was six."

"Your sock collection says otherwise," James quipped.

To which he received the closest thing to a glare as Dex could muster.

James' chuckle vibrated against my side, his hand leaving my waist to direct Noah's sister back to the tree. "Hey, Clara-bear, can you pass Dex the candy cane parcel?"

The red tulle on Cleo's skirt fanned around her as she spun. "I'll get it!"

"He asked me," Clara huffed, hoisting up her green tulle for efficiency as she raced her twin to the tree.

"You're hanging up the Santa hat?" I asked James, feigning disappointment.

He nodded, sighing comically. "I think it's time to pass it on."

"Huh. Shame."

"Shame?"

I lifted my chin to capture his gaze, shrugging. "You make a good Santa."

While I was supposed to look innocent, I absolutely could not hide the smile that suggested my insinuation was anything but. I pursed my lips to hide it, but I think that only made it worse.

He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, looking quite proud of himself. "Wow. Santa, huh?"

I couldn't speak without giving myself away, so I simply shrugged again. Because, apparently, that dream on the bus was absolutely onto something.

James looked good in red and white.

Especially when, on the holiest day of the year, he had the audacity to smirk. "Noted."

I muffled a laugh against his chest as Dex pulled our focus once again.

"Shut your mouth." This time, his voice was as lyrical as a sonnet, alight with the same glee radiating off of Noah's siblings. "Shut. Up."

James' grin broadened. "I won't."

"You're joking. You're joking," Dex cried. His hands curled around James' gift oh-so-carefully, pulling it out from the wrapping as I craned my neck to see. I could just make a brown leather hardcover that looked older than my grandparents, embossed with brass letters that spelled out 'Shakespeare'. "An Imperial?"

"I don't know why you're asking James," Noah questioned matter-of-factly, "when it's from your Secret Santa. As in secret. As in, you know, anonymous."

James closed his mouth, but with Noah's back turned, he threw Dex a nod.

Dex's mouth fell even wider, his hands flailing between a desire to open the book and inhale every word, and the fear of even touching it lest it disintegrated on his lap. I knew nothing about Shakespeare—bar the fact that he almost killed me in high school—but I could tell that whatever that book was, it was worth a little more than the presents I'd bought for James.