Deck the Mall (Love at Westbrook Mall #3)
1. Snowball Effect
1
Snowball Effect
I skipped through the freshly-fallen snow, each step leaving boot-lined kisses on the pavement. The first snowfall had turned the mall’s employee parking lot into a winter wonderland of boxy, sparkly igloos. I drew a smiley face on the blank canvas of someone’s rear window. My laughter came out in visible puffs, and I flapped my arms, pointing at the little cloud. “Look at this.”
“I see it,” my coworker grumbled.
His real name was Charlie, but I always thought of him as his character, Chestnut. His sour mood got more palpable the closer we got to final exams. Last week, he’d glared at someone for crinkling a candy cane wrapper. He yawned and tugged his oversized pullover over his head until all that poked out was his pointy nose. “Ugh, it’s not even plowed. Let’s go.”
I flounced down the aisle to my usual parking spot, jingling all the way.
Chestnut stopped, his nose pointing down. “Wait, are you still wearing the elf shoes?”
I stiffened and tried to stuff my feet behind a snowbank. Green slippers curved to a point, the bells poking over the snow. “Um, I guess so.”
He reeled back. “You can’t wear the uniform outside of the mall.”
I shook the powder off my feet, heat rising to my cheeks. “Sorry, I was in a rush.”
“Tell that to Santa.” He shimmied between the passenger side and the parked vehicle next to us. “They might ding you ‘nice’ points for that. Then, you can say goodbye to that bonus check. Once, I got ice salt on the side of my pants, and I had to get them dry cleaned or pay a penalty for them to do it.”
“That sounds expensive.” I wrinkled my nose and wiped the windshield with my arm.
“What are you doing? Where’s your brush?” he asked.
“I am the brush.” I swiped another triumphant streak across the car.
“Seriously, is it in the back seat?” He wiped off the windows on his side and peered at the rear bench of my dark green sedan. “What’s under that blanket?”
“Nothing.” I flung myself across the car, snow raining down the sides.
He snort-laughed and pushed his face closer to the glass. “Wait, is that a penguin plushie?”
“His name is Mr. Waddles.” I bristled. I kept him in my car so my mom wouldn't donate him to my younger cousins.
Chestnut arched a brow. “Aren’t you a little old for stuffed animals?”
“No.” So what if I was twenty years old with an Associate’s degree? Cute stuff made me happy.
“It’s kind of weird,” he said. “Though I guess it’s no more embarrassing than a grown-up dressed as an elf for a living.”
“Hey.” I scooped up a snowball, icy cold biting my fingers as I packed it tighter than the ball in my chest, and tossed it at Chestnut. The packed snow burst against his coat sleeve.
He jerked back. “What was that for?”
“An attitude adjustment,” I said, dusting off my mittens. “I happen to think our job is amazing.”
“Throwing a snowball won’t change anything.” He huffed.
“Maybe not. But I do have to get the car clean. Would you like to help me?” I grinned, packing another ball.
“Don’t you dare… I’m going to get you back!” Steam puffed out Chestnut’s nose as he scrambled for ammunition.
“Finally warming up to the snow?” Sticking my tongue between my teeth, I ducked behind the car as Chestnut rushed towards me with a grin. An avalanche descended on the driver’s side, soaking through my peppermint-striped leggings. Oh, that was cold. I giggled and shook my hands to get the blood flowing.
One scoop after another, Chestnut and I pelted each other with snow. Each puff of white inspired a little more laughter and energy. This was what first snows were supposed to encourage: breathless, giddy mischief and merriment.
I ran around the side of the car and slipped–there was no traction on these shoes. The fall knocked the breath out of me. My tailbone throbbed from colliding with the icy pavement. I groaned, rubbing out the ache.
A long shadow crept over the parking aisle, snow crunching underfoot as Chestnut trotted closer. I bit my lip and grabbed a hunk of snow from under the car. This time, I’d get him right as he rounded the corner. And there he came.
“Gotcha,” I shouted, slinging snow at a tall figure in an olive cap.
Oh no. That was not Chestnut.
I gasped, my eyes widening as the stranger’s narrowed in alarm.
He twisted just in time to take the brunt of the icy explosion on his arm. Cursing, the guy stepped back, his facial piercings glinting brighter than the winter wonderland. “What the hell?”
I scrambled to my feet. “Oops, sorry. I thought you were my friend. Are you okay?”
"Yes.” He smacked the powder off his black zip-up and brown jeans. “Stop goofing off. This is a parking lot, not a playground.”
“I know. We were just having some fun.” I scraped my boots against the snow and hung my head. Drifting snowflakes and extra-volume mascara shielded me from the stranger’s stare.
“What are you looking at?” he snapped at Chestnut, who ducked behind the car.
I gathered a bit of snow and packed it together. “Here, you can toss this at me if it’ll make you feel better. But be nice. Not the face, please.” I winced, turning away and sticking my arm out for him to take the snowball.
“What?”
Wiggling my fingers to ease the iciness seeping in, I smiled. “Consider it a peace offering.”
“I-I’m not going to hit you. Stop messing around. Geez.” Face flushed, he shook his head and marched off in a misty storm, his combat boots rattling with every step.
“I wasn’t asking you to hit me,” I called after him, holding up the snowball, “It’s supposed to be fun and fluffy.”
“I don’t have time for this.” He tugged his olive hat further over his ears and muttered something else, but the only word I picked up was, “Immature.”
My nose tingled and quivered, passages blocking up from the temperature and shame. Maybe I did have to grow up. If only it was that easy. Sniffling, I dropped the snow and wiped my face. Big girls didn’t cry. They apologized. Which I did, even if that guy didn’t accept it. That grinch.
Chestnut sighed and looked around. “That was awkward. Can we use the brush now?”
“Sorry. We’re almost done. You can get in.” I fully unlocked the car.
He hurried into the passenger’s seat, but I took an extra second to brush off the windshield and de-snow my long, reddish-brown hair in the side mirror. Sparkles glistened from every fiber as I whipped my hair back and forth. I loved snow when it was fresh like this. Much better than the glitter glue at our Santa station. I glanced at the mall, hesitant to leave like this.
Olive-hat-man was looking over his shoulder at me. He shook his head and strode through the employee entrance. Great . I’d probably have to see him again. But it was a big mall, even if some of the stores remained vacant. So what if one guy thought I was ridiculous? My youthful spirit suited a mall elf. Some even found it charming. I just had to be more careful.
I got into the car and started it up. Chestnut balled his fists in his pockets and chattered his teeth.
“Here, let me turn up the heat.” I pushed the vents towards him.
“Ugh, it’s freezing.” He stared out the rear window as if he could force the car to move with his focus. At least he was too distracted to investigate my blankie in the backseat. “I know a place that has good tacos that fit my dietary needs.”
“Great.” I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. “Warm food hits differently when you’ve been out in the cold.”
Chestnut faced the windshield. “True, but next week we’re going to be so busy we can’t leave, especially not at the same time, which means bagged lunch or food court. That stuff gets old after a week. The lines, the depressing cold sandwiches…”
“Boxed lunches aren’t that bad. You just have to hope no one’s using the microwave. Cold cuts or PBJ are always a good backup.” I shifted the car shaft, mentally rummaging through the fridge at home. “Ooh, you could do LunchaFulls.”
Chestnut recoiled. “Those are for kids.”
“Right, yeah.” I licked my chapped lips. “They sure are tasty though.”
He stuffed his hands under his armpits. “Weirdo.”
I scrunched down in my seat. “Yeah, I know.”
Maybe eating by myself for a while wouldn’t be such a bad thing.