12 Days 'til Christmas ✓

chapter four

f o u r

*

The first time I met Casper barely counts. Neither do the next ten times, when our interactions were limited to him asking me what I wanted and me telling him; him handing me a drink and me thanking him. It was only after around six weeks of me visiting Java Tea, once it became my new favourite discovery, that Casper changed up our usual polite barista-customer conversation.

"You've never ordered the same thing," he said.

"Not really, no. Unless I find a favourite. Is that a problem?"

"Not really, no," he said, echoing me. "Except you're a regular, and I'm under strict instruction to try to remember the regulars' orders. You're making that pretty hard. I might get a pay cut if Julio realises that I serve you several times a week and still have to ask what you want."

"If it helps, feel free to make whatever you want when Julio's around," I said. "He never needs to know our little secret."

As though he heard our scheming, Julio emerged from the back room at that point, holding a plastic bin to collect empty cups and plates. He looked over and gave me a smile – I knew him better than Casper at that point – and Casper wasted no time in starting a surprise drink for me.

"Quick, what's your name?" he whispered.

"Beth."

He stuck up his thumb and perfectly timed the serving of what looked like a latte with Julio's arrival at the counter.

"The usual for Beth," he said with a wink. Julio gave him a look, his eyebrows raised and his lips pressed together in vague disappointment.

"I have known Beth many weeks," he said. "She doesn't have a usual."

When Julio left, Casper glared at me. "You're such a snake. You knew he knew that."

I held up my hands. "Innocent until proven guilty. So, what is this?"

"A betrayal latte with sprinkles of deceit."

I took a sip and smacked my lips. "Mmm. Betrayal tastes like caramel."

The memory pops into my head as we get out of the car ninety minutes later, immediately hit with the sounds and smells of the market in full swing, and Casper grumbles that this feels like a betrayal of everything he stands for.

"We're going to have problems if you can't put your Chrissues to the side for one day."

"Chrissues?"

"Christmas issues. You've got 'em bad. I had to make up a word just for you." I dig a couple of reusable bags out of the back of the car and lock up, pulling on a pair of gloves now that we're out of the heat of the car. The rain may have finally stopped and it may be just above zero, but there's a sharp chill in the wind. Casper, who arrived last night in not much more than jeans and a jumper, is wrapped up in a thick green scarf I dug out of the back of my closet, when he said he wasn't quite ready to match me with a Santa scarf.

"Chrissues," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head at me. "If anyone here has Chrissues, it's most definitely you, Beth."

"What exactly is your problem with Christmas?" I ask as we wander past stalls of handmade gifts and bratwurst, one selling some kind of heathen invention of mulled Irn Bru. "You seem pretty normal otherwise. What turned you into such a grinch?"

"I'm just ... not a fan."

I glance at him but he's looking away, and I don't want to push it more than I already have so I drop the issue and head towards a stall that sells one hundred percent natural, organic bath products. My oldest sister, India, is vegan and only shops organic, everything natural and cruelty free as possible, without a hint of plastic in sight. It's not a cheap or easy lifestyle but she married someone with the same values and between them, they can more than afford the most environmentally lifestyle possible.