The Asshole and the Christmas Party

The annual Christmas party. You love this day more than any other because it’s the one time of year that you and the rest of your colleagues can actually drink while technically on the clock. You've felt the excitement for tonight’s festivities all day from everyone. You even caught Norma, the older receptionist, sneaking in a bottle of Vodka and stuffing it quickly into her bottom desk drawer.

Five o'clock couldn't have come fast enough for all of you and soon you all were gathered together in the lobby, loosening ties, un-tucking shirts, and kicking off high heels as Norma and Juan, one of the young mail room clerk began mixing the drinks. The Christmas tree sparkles in the corner as music plays in the background as you all chit-chat and giggle as your other counter parts begin to get a little blitzed.

You hold your champagne glass to your lips as your eyes scan the room for him but he's nowhere to be found. Felicity, your very best friend and co-manager continues to talk to you as if you’re listening but you couldn't care less about her at that moment. You click your heel a little impatiently as you continue to scan the room. You sigh and are just about to think that he's left for the day when your breathe catches in your throat. Those icy blue eyes catch you off guard but you smile immediately.

He bites his bottom lip and you shiver, standing up a little straighter, trying not the blush. He drops his head, smiling widely as he turns his attention away from you to one of his buddies, nodding his head at whatever is said. You take another sip of your bubbly and continue to watch him secretly as he stands tall in his khakis and white button down shirt. His hair is freshly cut but still slightly curly and you long to run your fingers down his stubbly jaw line.

You can't believe he's yours in that moment.

“Hello? Clarke? Are you fucking listening to me right now?”

Her voice cuts into your thoughts and you jump slightly, cutting your dark eyes toward her, “Of course I’m listening.”

Felicity scoffs and takes another swig of her Corona, “Bitch, you are not. You’re too busy eyeing the mail guy again.”

It’s now your turn to scoff as you try to hide your actions, “Shut up, I was not. I’m trying to make sure that Jesse doesn’t knock over the fucking tree with what he calls dancing.” You giggle, tipping your cup in the direction of the now plastered Jesse, your lead salesman.

“Oh my god, didn’t he end up puking on the Christmas tree last year?” Felicity laughs, pointing over at him, “Somebody needs to hide the booze from his ass.”

You laugh genuinely, shaking your head a little as you glance back across the room to lock eyes with him again. He nods his head toward your closed office door and you shake your head quickly, placing your foot back in your high heel securely, “City, I’m gonna check my email really quick, I’ll be right back okay?”

“What? We’re not supposed to be working right now Clarke. It’s a fucking party!” She screams as you walk off anyway.

You see him slip into your office unseen as you cross the floor, smiling and waving at a few of your co-workers before slipping into your office and locking the door behind you. You turn and lean against the door, the smile creeping onto your face again as he leans up against your desk. You bite your lip and lean your head against the door, using the wood to hold you up as he makes you weak in the knees.

“Hey, you.” He finally says, beckoning you further with his finger.

“Hey.” You say softly as you lumber over to him.

When you finally fall into his chest, your eyes close and you inhale deeply, taking in his cologne as his arms wrap you up completely.

“Look what I have.” He says, pulling away from you, leaving your small body cold.

He lifts his arm above his head and your chestnut eyes follow. You smile again and stand up a little straighter, “Looks like you have some mistletoe there.”

“Hmm.” He says with a smirk, “I wonder where I could have gotten this from.”

You laugh again, “Well, you better get over here before it disappears.”

You don’t have to tell him twice before his pretty pink lips crash onto yours. You moan unexpectedly as his tongue invades your mouth, massaging yours as his lips send your body reeling. He pulls away from you a few seconds later, running his large thumb across your now swollen bottom lip. He cups your face in his large hands and your eyes shut again, completely comfortable in his touch.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispers more to himself than to you, staring down at you.

You open your mouth to begin to spill your undying love for him when a loud knock startles you both, “Clarke! Jesse’s puking in the tree again!” Felicity screams.

You sigh, “Oh god, get him to the bathroom and get somebody to clean that shit up. We can’t have the place smelling like throw up.”

She knocks again, “What are you doing in there? Let me in.”

“No, just call a cab and get Jesse home Felicity. I’ll be out in a minute, alright?”

She finally relents and walks away, cussing loudly for someone to get a mop. You laugh a little and turn back to a now mad Justin, “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“Why wouldn’t you let her in here?”

You glance around the room nervously, knowing exactly what he’s getting to, “Justin, please don’t start. Not now babe.”

“Don’t tell me not to start. You’re fucking embarrassed by me and you don’t want me to start?!” He says loudly, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“I am not embarrassed by you Justin! I’ve told you that a million times. It’s just not right, right now, that’s all.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Okay so, if you’re not embarrassed to be marrying the mail room boy, then why doesn’t anybody know about us? I mean, Felicity is your best friend and you didn’t even invite her to the wedding.”

“Felicity has a big mouth! I just don’t want anybody knowing our business Justin.” You plead, walking over to him and trying to calm him down, “I love you, and you know that. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be marrying you in two weeks.”

He shakes his head in anger and doesn’t meet your eyes but you feel him relax a little as your lay your hands on his chest. You lean in and kiss him on his thick neck, secretly wishing that you could just relent to him just this one time.

“I want everyone to know that you’re mine.” Justin whispers after a few tense, silent seconds, “I want to be able to hold your hand as we walk into work together; I want to be able to kiss you while we’re at lunch. I want them to know that you’re gonna be Mrs. Timberlake.”

You sigh again, glancing over at the small Christmas tree that sits atop your desk. He’s not wrong in wanting people to know about the two of you but there’s just something in you that doesn’t want that to happen. You like the secrecy. You like sneaking off in the middle of day into the janitor’s closet or the copy room to make out.

And deep down…. You’re embarrassed.

A manager and a mail clerk? You wish you couldn’t care about what other people thought but you do. You don’t want to have to deal with the glares and snickers behind your back or having to answer a thousand stupid questions a day. How much more a year do you make than him? Do you pay all of the bills? What are you thinking? You’re management and he’s… replaceable. You don’t want to deal with it, so for that past two years as you advanced and made a career for yourself and he stayed in the same humdrum position, you’ve convinced him to keep it a secret.

But it’s not working anymore. He’s becoming upset.

And you don’t want to lose him.

“I want that too but it’s just better this way baby.” You whisper, staring back into those icy blue eyes that you’ve become so accustomed too.

He rubs his head harshly with his hand and pulls away from you again, “I’m gonna head home. I’ll see you in a bit.” He says, not making any more eye contact.

He brushes past you and slides the door open slightly, looking out into the lobby where most of your colleagues are now plastered out of their minds. When no one is looking, he slips out and you nearly fall into your seat, your heart aching that you can’t give him the one thing that he wants most for Christmas. Tears threaten the back of your eyes as you think about the disappointment that you’ve just caused the one person that means most to you.

“Dude, Jesse is now uninvited to every future Christmas party from here on- what’s wrong Clarke?” Felicity asks, busting into your office a few minutes later.

You turn your head slightly and cover your face, wiping at your eyes, “Oh nothing, I just… um…”

She rushes to your side and kneels down next to you, taking your hand, “What happened? Do I need to fuck somebody up? Was one of these drunk ass mother fuckers messing with you?” She says, already on her liquid- courage defense.

You laugh as you continue to wipe at your face, “No, I’m just an asshole, that’s all.”

“Pffh, that’s news to you? I’ve been telling you that you’re an asshole since we met in college. Why are you an asshole this time?”

You lean back in your leather chair and watch people dance to a random Christmas song past your door, “I can’t give somebody what they want this Christmas.”

“What?! You’re sitting here, in your office, crying because you can’t get your nephew a Playstation 3?”

“Oh my god!” You let out, “I’m not talking about my nephew, can’t you just sit there and shut up for a second and just agree with me. I’m an asshole, period. End of story.”

Felicity rolls her eyes at your little outburst and stands up, leaning up against your desk, “Well then bitch, don’t be an asshole and just do what you gotta do to give this person what they want. You’re only an asshole when you’re being selfish and the whole point of Christmas is to not be a selfish asshole.”

“Whatever. I’m going home, have a good night okay?” You say completely defeated, grabbing your purse.

You hear Felicity scoff behind you and mutter something but you don’t care. You bob and weave through the dancing, drunk bodies and are just about to push out onto the cold New York streets when you hear Felicity’s voice in your head again.

The whole point of Christmas is to not be a selfish asshole

You look down at your hand that’s clutching your iphone as the idea hits you smack in the face. You love Justin and he loves you, that’s all that matters. When you’re sick, he’s the one taking care of you. When you’re sad, he’s the one trying to make you laugh. You’re fucking job titles don’t matter in this tangled, emotional, dirty game of love.

And you are a fucking asshole for not figuring this out sooner.

You bring your iphone up to your face and begin to furiously type, taking your head out of the equation and letting your heart do all the talking. You skim over your hastily written email, ignoring your punctuation mistakes and take a deep breath as your thumb hovers over the send button. In just a few seconds, your entire life is about to change.

And you couldn’t give a fuck less.

You slam your thumb down on the send button and wait for a second, placing your hand on the bar of the front doors. Within seconds your hear beeps and chimes and bells as your co-workers phones begin to receive your outgoing message and you turn your head slightly to see some people digging in their pockets to clutch their phones.

You turn quickly and practically run back into your office, hoping and praying that he gets it too before he reaches your shared apartment. You close your eyes and scrunch up your face as you begin to hear rumblings coming from the lobby. You then hear hurried footsteps to your door and cringe when it bursts open. You open your eyes to see your entire office community standing before you, phones in hands, staring at you as if you’ve grown a second head. Felicity fights her way to front of the pack and stares at you, one hand on her hip, the other still clutching her blackberry.

“Is this a fucking joke?”

You shake your head, “Nope.”

She scoffs and cocks her head to the side, “Okay… so, you’re being completely serious right now with this? You’re just telling us now and through a fucking email? And with the-“

Your phone rings loudly, cutting into her verbal assault. Rihanna’s What’s My Name fills the office as you bring it up to your face, “Hello?”

“Are you fucking serious?” His stunned voice hits your eardrum.

“Yes.” You say, closing your eyes again and closing everyone else out.

“You sent this to everyone?”

You nod, “Yes.”

He gets quiet for a while and all you can hear is him breathing. The line goes dead a few seconds later and your heart drops. It’s too late, you were too late. Christmas miracles don’t fucking exist and again, for the third time that night, you feel like a complete asshole again. A single tear slips down your cheek as all of your co-workers begin to bombard you with questions, some talking directing at you, others talking to each other, trying to figure out what in the hell was going on.

You drop your head into your hands and run your thin fingers through your long, dark hair. Well, you tried, you should at least be proud of yourself for throwing your caution to the wind and taking a risk. You waited just a little late and you lost him.

“Clarke.” You hear a familiar voice say and your head snaps up in its direction and everyone else falls silent.

You look up and he’s standing there, still in his khaki’s and white button down shirt. His skin is red from the freezing cold weather, his chest rising and falling quickly as he ran as fast as he could to get back to you. You stand up and take a deep breath, “I love you Justin and I’m sorry for being such a dick about this situation. I love you and I don’t care about anything else, not our titles or what we do or what people think or any of that shit. I love you.”

And he smiles.

He rushes toward you and in an instant, you’re swept off your feet and in his strong arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as your lips touch again this time in front of your whole office, “I love you so much Clarke James.” He whispers over and over again between kisses and you swear you hear awe’s from behind you.

“I guess you’re wondering why I’m sending you guys this email,” Felicity begins to read, “Well, I’m in love. I’m in love with a man that see’s nothing but beauty and perfection when he looks at me. How in the world can I deny him of anything? I’m in love with Justin Randall Timberlake, yes, the mail guy. And we’re getting married January 7th. We’ve been sneaking around, making out in the lunch room after hours, having a quickie in the copy room and sorry Norma, we’ve had sex on your desk. I’ve spent entirely too much time thinking about what you all will think about me and guess what? I’m fucking done with it. Love it or hate it, I’m in love with a mail clerk that makes fourteen dollars an hour. I love you guys, but you can all kiss my black ass. Clarke James. “

“P.S. You’re all now formally invited to the wedding :)”

Once Felicity finishes reading,you smile up into those pretty blue eyes as yours become cloudy with water again, “Merry Christmas Justin.”

He chuckles lightly, sending chills down your spine and pulls you into his chest again, “Merry Christmas Clarke.”

And then, as you and Justin continue to kiss, everyone claps and cheers you on.

And then Felicity calls you the office slut.