My nights working as an elf go by fast. The closer we come to Christmas, the busier we get, and I barely have a moment’s rest. Tonight drags on as I count every minute until my date with Landon. My legs shake, my heart races, and there’s a triple knot in my stomach. I ask him to meet me by my car, and we can take one vehicle on our date.

The cold air whips me in the face, an unwelcome bite from the warmth of the mall. I hold my breath as though that will keep me warm. I parked my car three rows over almost to the end. With the mall closing, the lot is almost empty, and only a few cars fill the spaces around mine. I pick up my pace to reach my car quicker, my keys in my hand as I see a figure near my vehicle.

Wait. That’s Landon.

“Hey,” I say as I come up behind him.

Gosh, he’s gorgeous. He turns his head, a dimple next to his mouth apparent as he smiles. “Hey.” Even in the darkness, I make out a glimmer in his eyes.

He pushes himself off the car in a Jake Ryan kind of way. Swoon. Then he takes his hat off and rakes his fingers through his dark hair. It’s so thick and dark. Double. Swoon. When he bites his bottom lip, I’m tempted to yell “swoon” at the top of my lungs. I somehow contain myself.

What lottery did I win to meet this man?

“Have you been waiting long?” I assume he hasn’t been standing outside of his car for an extended period of time—only after he saw me exit the mall. Still, it’s no fun hanging out in a car alone while waiting for someone.

“No. And even if I was, you’re worth the wait.”

Is there another word for swoon? A better one? Because I’m feeling it in this moment. This is straight out of a romance novel type of stuff. That’s it. Landon isn’t real. He’s a character from a book. That’s the only explanation.

Except it’s not. He’s real, standing in the flesh in front of me. Me. My gosh, I feel like I’m in grade school, giddy over a boy. He checks all the boxes: cute, smart, funny. All. The. Boxes.

“Any crazy elf stories today?”

“No vomiting, but we did have a kid in the middle of potty training not quite make it to the bathroom.”

“Yikes!” He laughs, a kind of small hysterical laugh that he’s trying to hold in. I’m sure he’s picturing me either covered in it or swooping in with a bucket or something to save the day.

“Don’t worry. Nothing got on me. I totally would have canceled this date if that had been the case.” I don’t embarrass easily, but going on a date in urine scented clothes makes the list.

I wonder what he’s thinking in the moments we don’t speak. What if he’s being polite and doesn’t really care about my elf stories? He only asks out of courtesy. Does he wonder why I do this if I make a decent living as a financial advisor? Does he see this woman in costume and want to run in the other direction assuming maybe I’m really some sort of crazy person? I really wonder, but at the same time I’m afraid to know the answer.

“I have to ask,” he says as he scratches the stubble on his face. “Do you like wearing that elf costume?”

This isn’t the first time I’ve been asked that question, and I guarantee it won’t be the last. In fact, I’m asked it so much I should probably wear a sign with the answer on it, save people time. The question tires me, but this is the first time I don’t mind being asked. I can tell he’s sincerely asking and not mocking me in his head. I know I get my share of those every day.

“Honestly?”

“Is there any other way?”

A man who wants the truth. As much as I want to hide from it sometimes, I’m grateful to have met someone who doesn’t want to play games and wants to lay everything out on the table. I don’t know if I can put everything out there right away, but this is a start.

“I hate it.” I cover my face with my hand. “I really do not like it. But, it’s the job, so I push through like you would with any job.” I need to explain more. “I mean, I love how excited the kids get, and the fact that I can donate this money means everything to me, but when it comes to the elf costume, well, I hate it.” I play with the piece of green cloth peeking out from under my jacket. “I don’t look as cute as Zooey Deschanel or even Will Ferrell.”

“You’re about three million times cuter than Zooey Deschanel.”

“And Will Farrell?”

“Eh,” he smiles as he shrugs his right shoulder.

“Geez, thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.” I know one thing, he knows how to make me laugh, and that’s one of the most important things on my list, the one that he’s checked so many boxes off.

He’s staring, and I don’t know if he wants me to say anything more, and if he does, what? The smile brushed across his face warms me inside, which is perfect timing since I’m feeling the chill outside. My nose is ice cold, and my cheeks are slowly following behind.

“Juliette?”

He says my name as a question, but with such intent I lose my breath. “Yes?”

“Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?”

My reddened cheeks brighten, confused between the cold air and warmth of his smile. I’m flattered he’s asking permission, and it makes me want to kiss him even more. I’ve wanted him to kiss me since the first time we went out. And I want him to kiss me even more now.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

As quickly as I can reply, he wraps his arms around me, swinging me around so I’m pressed up against his car. His lips against mine are natural like we fit together, and all we’ve been doing all our lives is trying to find our way to each other. His hands roam around my back, finding their way to the back of my neck. All the hair on my body lifts, goosebumps everywhere, but I’m so hot from his kiss right now. When we break away from each other, I almost call out that I’m not ready to let him go.

“Wow.” He leans in and kisses my cheek, and my legs tremble.

“Wow,” I repeat in a whisper. “That was…amazing.”

His hand moves around to my cheek and he thumbs the area he kissed. His hand is so soft against my skin, and I want him to kiss my cheek again so his touch never leaves me. “I know this is only our second date, but I’ve wanted to do that long before our first.”

Landon stands before me, his hand still on my cheek. This can’t be real. I need him to pinch me.

Except I don’t want to wake up.