Work Text:
December 1st, 19 days from the Secret Santa exchange
Secret Santa was a tradition among the members of the Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society. It started as a way for the cast and crew to bond with each other. There was no price range, everyone knew each other well enough to give anyone a nice gift, and gift-giving was a fun, casual, and simple affair.
Unfortunately, Chris Bean was an expert at making simple things incredibly complex.
They'd passed around the hat with everyone’s names in it. Dennis drew first, and immediately showed everyone he had gotten Annie, which he did every year. He never seemed to understand the point of the game, even though it literally had secret in the title. Everyone else had picked a name, until he was the last one left. He picked up the neatly folded scrap of paper and made sure no one was looking over his shoulder. No worries there. The rest of the cast was engrossed in their own slips. Chris slowly unfolded the paper, saw the neat cursive, and immediately knew who it was without having to read the name.
He had gotten Vanessa Wilcox-Wynn-Carroway as his Secret Santa gift recipient.
Now, this was not a big deal. So what if Vanessa was his co-star/good friend/dance partner in a scene they’d been working on for weeks/secret crush? He could get her a thoughtful, nice present, no problem. At least, that was Trevor’s stance on the whole thing, as he had bluntly told Chris when they were carpooling home together.
“Listen,” Trevor said as he parked the car outside Chris’ building. “You put aside the crush every day in rehearsal. You put aside the crush during your dance practice. You put aside the crush in everyday life. How is this any different?”
Chris stammered wordlessly. “It just is, Trevor. I asked you for advice.”
“That is my advice. Bury it down and get Vanessa a nice gift like she deserves. Easy.” Trevor grinned. “My work here is done.”
Chris stared at his friend. “But you didn’t even do anything.”
Trevor’s smile dropped. “Please get out of my car.”
So that had been the end of that conversation.
Chris knew Trevor was right. It really wasn’t any different than everyday life. This gift was just another thing he had to edit his crush out of. But it was so much more than that. A gift was personal. A gift could speak a lot of emotions you didn’t want to say out loud. And what it really came down to was the fact that Chris wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep hiding his affection for Vanessa anymore.
When he’d first figured his emotions about her out a few episodes into Play of the Week, he quickly came to terms with it. It made complete sense to have a crush on Vanessa. She was kind, practical, and hard-working, all qualities Chris admired. It also didn’t hurt that she was incredibly pretty. Despite all of these valid reasons to like Vanessa, Chris had decided to pretend like he didn’t have a crush and wait for it to go away. He had done it before with a coworker.
(That coworker had been Trevor. The crush had lasted two weeks before Trevor dropped a hammer on his foot and cussed six ways from Sunday, horrifying Chris and diminishing the attraction immediately. Trevor still had no idea about his brief infatuation, and that had been over a decade ago. Chris was really good at keeping secrets.)
But the show had continued, and Chris had spent a lot of time with Vanessa both at and off work, and the crush hadn’t gone away. So Chris devised a different plan. Their Christmas special this year had a big dance sequence near the end, and considering Vanessa’s background in dance, he had decided that they would be the ones doing it.
(It had nothing to do with the fact that Vanessa’s smile made his heart twist. Absolutely not.)
Chris thought spending more time with Vanessa meant he’d learn more about her, and then, realizing he was in love with the idea of her, he could drop the crush. Unfortunately, like all of his great plans, it had backfired. Sure, Chris had learned a lot of less than pretty things about Vanessa. He had learned about her controlling, perfectionist mother and father, which had hit close to home and made him angry. He’d learned that sudden noises and movements startled her to the point of tears. And he had learned about her more negative traits—she was a people-pleaser, she was anxious most of the time, and she hated anything spontaneous. All of these characteristics were things he could handle, and to tell the truth, he was happy to handle them. He kind of wanted to handle them.
So he was obviously fucked.
December 3rd, 17 days from the Secret Santa exchange
Chris didn’t always enjoy talking to Max.
Now, he loved Max. Max was one of his best friends. He was kind, energetic, and understanding, which was what Chris loved about him. But talking to him sometimes was like scaling the face of a mountain.
“So, basically,” Max said, face scrunched up in confusion. “You don’t want to give Vanessa a gift.”
Chris groaned, massaging his temples. He’d been trying to explain this to Max for five minutes now. “That is not what I said. I said that giving Vanessa a gift is precarious.”
“Why would it be precarious? She’s your coworker.” Max gasped in horror. “Do you hate her? Did you have a dramatic falling-out and now in dance practice you perform super angrily but also super passionately? Because that’d be cool.”
Chris stared at Max. “No. And what do you think our dance style is? Because in the number there aren’t really any close movements.”
Max looked perplexed. “I thought you two were dancing a tango.”
Chris internally counted to ten to keep himself from reaching across the table and throttling his friend. “Why,” he began patiently. “Did you think we were dancing a tango? The Christmas special is set in America in the 1940s. What gave you that idea?”
Max shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I think it was because of your relationship with Vanessa.” Sandra interjected from the kitchen, where she was roasting sweet potatoes for dinner. Chris had texted her and asked to come over, as he needed some advice. She replied and said he was welcome to have dinner with them.
Now, he was regretting not saving the conversation for the next day of rehearsal, and was questioning the Bennett-Wilkinsons’ sanity. “What about my relationship with Vanessa makes you think I’d be dancing a tango with her?”
“Max thought you two were dating.” Sandra said, casually spooning the sweet potatoes onto their plates like she hadn’t just mentioned Chris’ biggest secret. “To tell you the truth, I thought he was crazy, but then he pointed out some evidence, and I thought it was pretty compelling—”
Chris’ heart fell into his stomach. “You thought me and Vanessa were what?!” Chris shouted, standing up abruptly.
“I think it’s actually Vanessa and I.” Max corrected, looking taken aback by his fast movement.
“It doesn’t matter! Why did you think that?”
“Chris, calm down,” Sandra said, holding up her hands placatingly. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”
“So you haven’t noticed my—” Chris closed his mouth abruptly before he said anything else incriminating. Max and Sandra looked at him suspiciously, and Chris sank down into his chair, face burning. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. Can we just eat dinner now?”
Max and Sandra, because they were saints, agreed, and dinner passed without a mention of Vanessa.
However, when Max left to pick up dessert from an Italian place across the street, Sandra turned to Chris. “So you have a thing for Vanessa, but have been trying to hide it, and you’ve been doing quite a good job. But now that you have to give her a gift, you're worried about your feelings being revealed."
Chris gaped. Sandra raised an eyebrow. "Did I get it?"
He nodded. Sandra smiled at him, an undercurrent of pity to it. "You really should tell her."
Chris vehemently shook his head, and she sighed. "Suit yourself. But just so you know, I thought Max didn't reciprocate my feelings after Haversham Manor, which is why I started going out with Jonathan. I should've told him, and I didn't. So, tell her, don't tell her, it's your funeral. But you can give her a gift. Stop panicking over it."
Chris opened his mouth to argue, but Sandra held up a hand to stop him. "Chris, you like to act like a hardass, but you are capable of giving a thoughtful present. You've got a memory like a steel trap. You have to remember Vanessa saying she wants something, or likes something. You can do it. You'll be fine."
Max walked through the door with cannolis, and the discussion ended.
When Chris got ready to leave, Sandra hugged him tightly, but whispered in his ear, "Do not overthink this, Chris. If you do, you will feel my wrath." She broke away from him and smiled benevolently.
So now Chris was terrified of Sandra's wrath and had no idea what to give Vanessa.
December 5th, 15 days from the Secret Santa exchange
Annie and Jonathan were staring at Chris, varying looks of concern and confusion on their faces. Chris stared back. "What?" he snapped. "What about this is so complicated for you to understand?"
"Nothing," Jonathan said, still looking at Chris like he was mentally unstable. "There's nothing complicated about it."
"Then why are you looking at me like I'm explaining the theory of relativity?"
"Because you sound deranged!" Annie burst out. "You sound like you're losing your mind over a Secret Santa gift! This is insane. It cannot be this difficult."
"But it is!" Chris said, annoyed. "How is no one understanding this?"
Jonathan reached across the table and took Chris' hand. "Chris, buddy. We understand giving gifts is difficult, but how do you have zero idea what to give a person you spend ninety percent of your time with?”
Chris slowly pulled his hand out of Jonathan’s. “I just don’t know what to do. It has to be thoughtful and heartfelt, but I don’t want to overstep boundaries.”
Annie’s face scrunched up, she looked over at Jonathan, and the two exchanged some confusing facial expressions.
Chris pointed between the two of them. “What’s this about?”
"Nothing,” Annie and Jonathan said at the same time. Annie continued, “What does Vanessa like? What does she do outside of work?”
Chris leaned back in his chair. “Let’s see. She has a gray cat named Giles. She loves walking in the woods and hates the beach. Her favorite Shakespeare play is Much Ado About Nothing but her dream Shakespearean role is Lady Macbeth. She knits when she feels anxious, and her favorite style of dance is the Lindy Hop.”
Annie and Jonathan’s facial expressions grew even more unreadable. Chris threw up his hands. “What now?”
“Do you have a crush on Vanessa?” Annie asked, comprehension dawning over her face.
Chris banged his head on the table.
“So she got it right?” Jonathan asked.
Chris began repeatedly banging his head on the table. He couldn’t see them, but he had a feeling his coworkers were having another silent conversation. “D’you think we broke him?” he heard Annie ask quietly.
Just then, he heard another, booming voice. “What’s all this about? Is Chris having another existential crisis?”
It was Robert, who was absolutely the last person he wanted to know about his crush. His head shot up. “There is absolutely nothing going on, Robert. Why are you still here?”
Robert shrugged. “Dennis and I were running lines. He’s doing a good job remembering them, he just keeps mixing them up. What are we talking about?”
Chris said, “Nothing!” at the same time Annie said, “Chris can’t figure out what to give his Secret Santa recipient despite having many, many of her characteristics to work with.”
“Oh. Who is it, Chris?”
Chris glared at Annie, who spoke for him. “It’s Vanessa.”
Robert looked at Chris. “Oh. Well, she could use a new tote.”
Chris stared at Robert, confused. “Huh? What are you talking about?”
“Vanessa’s bag she carries to rehearsal. It's old and dirty and the straps are fraying. She needs a new one."
Chris was shocked at Robert's observational skills, and also at the fact that he wasn't ridiculing him for his lack of those skills. "Huh. Thanks, Robert."
Robert shrugged. "Don't mention it." He walked out of the theater, Dennis trailing behind him and holding something in his hands. The thing jumped, and—yep, it was definitely an animal of some sort. Probably a frog. And just because Chris was grateful for Robert’s help didn’t mean he didn’t take a little bit of pleasure in the faint shriek he heard from outside.
That night, Chris went on the computer and searched up Shakespeare bags. It was very vague, but it got him what he was looking for, which was a thoughtful, but not creepily so, gift for Vanessa.
Now he just had to wait and see if it would arrive on time.
(When the package came in right on time, 6 days before the gift exchange, Chris may or may not have cried in relief. If no one saw him do it, he didn't have to admit he did.)
December 16th, 4 days from the Secret Santa exchange
Dance rehearsal with Vanessa was always a high point of the week.
Part of Chris' enjoyment was from the actual act of dancing. Dancing was fun, and dancing with Vanessa was even more fun. She knew what she was doing, and after weeks of practice, Chris kind of knew what he was doing too. They had the dance pretty much nailed down, and Chris didn't say that often, especially with the Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society. But in this case, when they sat down to talk after only an hour of practice, Chris felt good about doing so, relaxed over doing so.
(He also figured it was because being around Vanessa just made him feel a little more relaxed in general.)
After their third run-through of the dance, Vanessa collapsed on the stage, giggling. She dragged herself over to Chris' laptop playing the music and switched it off. "You know," she began. "I never thought I'd say this about any Play of the Week production, but I think we're ready."
Chris laughed, walking over to sit down beside her. "Same here. How do you feel about everyone else?"
Vanessa looked at him, a tiny smile on her face. "The director is asking me how I think the production is going? You really want me to answer?”
“Of course. I trust your input.” He knocked his shoulder into hers, and she grinned at him, leaning back in thought.
“Well,” she started. “Dennis knows a surprising majority of his lines, Robert seems relatively happy in his role, and Jonathan has had no trouble getting through the doors on set. At this rate, I think we’ll be nominated for an award due to our standout performance.”
That startled a laugh out of Chris. Vanessa wasn’t exactly known for her sarcasm, so when she cracked a joke like that, it was always unexpected. “That is a bold statement, Nessa.”
Vanessa glanced over at him, smiling impossibly wide. “Did you just call me a pet name?”
Chris could feel his face get hot and he decided to feign ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You did!” Vanessa crowed. “You called me Nessa.”
“Shut up.” Chris mumbled with no actual venom, head in his hands.
Vanessa laughed, and the sound made his heart melt a little more. “I will agree to let it go if you give me some Secret Santa counsel.”
Chris looked at her through his fingers. “Are you still looking for a gift? It’s four days away from the gift exchange and you still don’t know what you’re going to get the person?”
“No! I know what I’m going to get him. I’m not a procrastinator.”
“Then who’s your Secret Santa?”
Vanessa fixed him with a studying look, and Chris thought she actually wasn’t going to tell him, until she finally blurted, “It’s Dennis.”
And, okay. Chris knew he probably wasn’t Vanessa’s Secret Santa. Him getting her name in the first place had been a crazy coincidence. But there had still been a tiny part of him hoping that she would have drawn his name.
Of course, he didn’t say any of that, because that would have made him sound incredibly creepy, so he simply said, “Oh. What’s the problem?”
"I saw he keeps picking up frogs, so I got him some plastic ones. Partly for Robert's sanity, but also because I don't want him to hurt any real frogs. I figured giving him some fake ones would be better."
Chris stared at her. "Okay. What's the problem?"
"I’m just worried that he won't like them. Or he'll think I'm patronizing him by giving him fake frogs. Will he?" Vanessa had a look of genuine worry on her face, and a laugh escaped Chris without his permission. Vanessa’s panicked expression deepened. "Did I really mess up that badly?"
Chris sobered immediately. "No, you didn't mess anything up, Vanessa," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I was just laughing because I was just as stressed about my Secret Santa gift. I think Dennis will love the frogs."
"You really think so?" Vanessa asked, her shoulders relaxing.
"Vanessa, I've known Dennis for a very long time. I've seen him receive a used pencil as a present and he accepted it with the biggest smile on his face. Trust me when I say he is just happy to receive a present. He'll love the frogs."
Vanessa smiled. "Good." They sat in silence for a few minutes before Vanessa turned back to him. "So, who's your Secret Santa?"
Shit. Chris felt his heart drop into his stomach. "Um," he began, glancing over at Vanessa, who was clearly waiting for him to say something. He laughed nervously. "Well, it is called Secret Santa, Vanessa. If I told you, that defeats the whole point of the tradition, now doesn't it?"
Vanessa stared at him, a suspicious expression on her face. "I mean, I suppose."
"Exactly!" Chris exclaimed, cringing to himself. The explanation was flimsier than the cardboard set behind them, but it seemed to satisfy Vanessa, who was still looking at him strangely.
He stood up quickly, deciding to change the subject. "Hey, I know we're good on the dance, but I want to run those dips a few more times just to make sure I'm not going to kill you."
Vanessa joined him in standing, expression now cheerful. "Sure. Let's do it. But I will find out who it is." she laughed, pointing at him.
Chris laughed along uneasily. "Yeah. Good luck."
December 19th, 1 day from the Secret Santa exchange
"I'm fucked," Chris swore, sitting on the floor of his dressing room. "I'm fucked, we're fucked, this whole thing is so fucked."
Unfortunately, Chris couldn't sit and wallow in self-pity for long. He had to go tell the cast the bad news.
See, he had hired Gem Costuming to provide their wardrobe for this show, because it was set in the 1940s and they specialized in vintage clothes. Chris had worked with the owners, Tom and Dan, before, and they had been wonderful. Unfortunately, though he had submitted the costuming form to the BBC weeks ago, they still had not received them. He had just gotten a phone call from the production head that the costumes would be arriving, but they’d be arriving throughout the show. The cast would have to do the first scenes, and if worst came to worst, the whole show, in their street clothes
He broke the bad news at their pre-show meeting, and the cast erupted in fury. Not at him, but at the BBC.
“Guys!” he shouted over everyone’s furious talking. “It’s not the end of the world. We’ll hopefully have all our costume pieces by the end of the show. We cannot let this mess us up. We’ve got this.”
Everyone quieted down, but they still looked angry. Vanessa was the only one who didn’t look mad. She looked more concerned than anything. He cleared his throat and continued. “It’s just this last episode, and then the season will be over and we’ll finally have a break. This show has the potential to be one of our best. Let’s not let something as petty as costuming throw us, okay?”
Everyone mumbled reluctantly. Chris gave them what Max called his “director’s look,” which was basically just a stern expression. "Okay?” he repeated.
The cast mumbled, still reluctantly but much louder. Chris clapped his hands together. “I’m glad. Okay, everyone, go get ready. Good luck tonight. We can do this!”
Even he knew his chipper tone of voice was a lie. The group walked out reluctantly, dragging their feet. Vanessa stayed behind. “Hey,” she said quietly.
“Hey,” he replied. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Are you alright?” she asked.
For a minute, Chris thought about lying and saying he was great. But he knew that Vanessa would see through it. He exhaled. “No. Not exactly. The costume stuff is really stressful, and I’m worried about our dance if we don’t have them.”
“What do you mean?” Vanessa asked. “We’ve been rehearsing the dance for, what, months now? It won’t matter what we wear. And they’re supposed to be here by the end, right? It’ll be fine. So what’s the issue?”
And Chris had been worried about how the dance would look without their period suits and dresses, but Vanessa’s statements made his frantically-racing brain go quiet for a moment. She was right. The dance would look incredible, not because of what they were wearing, but because of the effort the two of them had put in to prepare it. He felt himself smile. “There actually is no issue.”
Vanessa smiled knowingly. “You started overthinking, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Chris said, grinning sheepishly. “You should go get ready.”
“Alright. You should too.” she said, grinning back at him and walking out of the room.
Chris exhaled. It was fine. Vanessa was right. They were going to be fine.
~-~
An hour and fifteen minutes later, Chris could admit that things were not fine, but they were definitely better than he had thought.
The costume pieces had been slowly arriving, but emphasis on slowly. Each box only contained one or two pieces of clothing, which was just like, well, every production they’d ever done.
But it was fine. They could get through it. At least, that was what Chris was trying to tell himself, waiting backstage and wearing only the navy blue pants of his suit and an old t-shirt.
The cast was adapting to the situation in various ways. Most of the cast were just trading out their modern clothes for the vintage pieces. Max had been having a great time with the anachronisms, with Sandra looking vaguely murderous every time he pointed them out. Dennis was just wearing every piece of clothing he had, which was certainly one way to do it. But other than that, the show was fine. Not their best, certainly, but not their worst.
"Hey," Sandra appeared at his side. "Your shirt is here, but I don't see your jacket in that box."
Chris sighed. "It's fine. I prepared myself for any possibility." They began speed-walking to the dressing rooms, where the boxes were slowly being dropped off. "Is Vanessa's—"
"Vanessa's dress is here, but her tights are not. I think she said she's going to put her leggings under it."
Chris stared at Sandra. "Oh my god. That's going to look so bad."
"I know. But she wanted to wear something underneath it, and her comfort is far more important." Chris nodded in agreement. Sandra shoved the cardboard box into his hands. "Here's your shirt. Good luck with the dance, Chris." And Sandra was gone, vanished into the night, probably to retrieve more boxes.
When he was onstage and the final few pages of dialogue were being said, he could see Vanessa walk on out of the corner of his eye. She was, as Sandra had said, wearing black leggings underneath her pink dress. Thankfully, much like the show itself, it didn’t look good, but it didn’t look too bad either.
His heart was pounding, and it worsened when the intro to the music began. He had somehow miraculously made it to his mark and said his few lines of dialogue with no problems. Dennis had screwed up his line to the point of it sounding like an innuendo and Sandra’s wig looked like it had been trampled on, but every brain cell he had was focused on remembering every step and every move in the dance.
And then it began. And it was amazing.
Sure, they missed a few steps, and Chris was pretty sure he almost dropped Vanessa during their dip-combined-with-a-spin, but for several minutes, Chris wasn’t worried about the lack of his suit jacket, or Vanessa's leggings, or anything else. All that mattered for those minutes were him and Vanessa, center stage, performing something that they’d worked on for months.
For that small amount of time, for that blip in the general cosmos, Chris knew what it was like to have a performance that went right.
(Immediately after they struck the ending pose of the dance, the entire set crashed down around them, but Chris could cry over that later.)
December 20th, the day of the Secret Santa exchange
Jonathan was really good at throwing parties, so it was no wonder that he hosted the Cornley Polytechnic Holiday Party (a working title by Annie) every year. The present exchange had begun, and it was going really well. Dennis had been delighted by the plastic, colorful frogs Vanessa had given him, so much so that he hugged her (which wasn’t something that he usually did willingly), Sandra had loved the red nail polish Trevor got her, and Chris had received a travel mug with a funny quip about being a director from Annie.
Chris was laughing at the tank top Trevor had gotten from Max, which had a picture of Duran Duran on it (according to Max, he had combined two of his favorite things). Trevor was glaring daggers (hopefully playfully) at Max, who was howling at Trevor’s murderous facial expression. Chris was so busy laughing, he didn’t even realize that Vanessa was reaching for the gift bag with her name on it. She was giggling as she pulled the red tissue paper out of the bag and then the tote bag. She started laughing even harder when she unfolded the bag and held it up. “A bag inside a bag? Who did this?”
Everyone laughed as Vanessa studied the bag. It was black and white, with a picture of three cloaked figures around a fire. “Oooh! What is it?” Annie asked.
“I’m not sure!” Vanessa said. “I mean, it’s a bag, with cool artwork, but other than that, I’m not sure. Hold on,” she murmured, squinting at the detailed print. “The art looks like it’s made out of words. What is this?”
“Who had Vanessa?” Jonathan asked, glancing around the room. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
There was no way around it. Chris sighed and raised his hand. “It was me.”
Vanessa's face lit up. "I knew it!" she shouted, pointing at him. "We were talking about Secret Santa and he was being far too vague about who he had as a recipient.”
“I’m sorry I had to lie to you, Vanessa,” Chris said, tipping an imaginary hat to her. “Trust me, doing so was very difficult.”
“I’m sure I can find it in my heart to forgive you if you tell me what this is,” Vanessa laughed, waving the bag at him. “I’m thankful for the tote, of course, because I need a new one, but what is the meaning of this picture? Do you think I’m a witch?”
“Well, you’re close. What famous play that you love has witches?”
Vanessa looked down at the bag, then back at him, with a growing smile. "Is it Macbeth ?"
"I would have gotten you the Much Ado About Nothing one, but it looked less cool than this one. The words on the bag are the entire text of Macbeth."
Vanessa's smile could rival the brightest spotlights. "Chris, this is amazing. Thank you so much!"
Chris waved a hand, trying to appear casual. "It was nothing."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Trevor open his mouth, probably to blow his calm, normal person cover, so he quickly said, "Max! Why don't you open your present next."
Max cheerfully reached for the box with his name on it, and Trevor gave Chris a look that clearly said, You’re a coward. Chris privately agreed, but he’d rather be a coward than let Trevor expose him.
~-~
The party was in full swing. Most of the troupe was dancing to the Black Eyed Peas, except for Dennis, who was sitting on the floor and stacking his plastic frogs in a tall tower. Chris had been dancing, but now he was looking for Vanessa, who had vanished somewhere around the third repetition of Wannabe by the Spice Girls.
Vanessa was sitting on the curb outside the house. She looked up when she heard him coming and smiled at him. “Sorry I vanished on you all. Were you looking for me?”
“I was, actually,” Chris said, sitting down beside her. “I don’t blame you coming out here, though. It’s pretty loud in the house.” He paused, trying to think of what to talk about. “What are you doing for Christmas?”
“I head over to my family’s house on the 23rd. Don’t worry, I’m not staying for long, just until the 26th,” she added off Chris’ horrified facial expression. “I limit all conversation with my parents to the bare minimum, and at this point I only go there to talk to my cousins and eat my grandmother’s Christmas trifle.”
“Well, can’t fault you for that,” Chris laughed. She chuckled, and they sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.
Vanessa broke it. “You know, I was really honored that you chose me to be your lead in the Christmas special last night.”
“Oh,” Chris said, waving his hand trying to affect a casual tone. “It was nothing. You were really the most obvious choice.”
Vanessa looked at him funnily. “What do you mean?”
And now Chris realized he may have backed himself into a corner. "Um, well, considering your background in dance, you were the most reasonable choice for a role requiring a dance sequence." Internally, he patted himself on the back for coming up with a reasonable excuse.
"Oh, okay." There was a beat of silence, until Vanessa spoke again. "Wait, but Annie also has a background in dance. She choreographed all those dance numbers in Peter Pan. Why wouldn’t you pick her?”
“Uh,” Chris said articulately. He was starting to realize most of his evasive sentences started with some variation of that. “Well—”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Chris.”
“No!” Chris startled himself with how loud he said it and how true it was. “No,” he started again, quieter this time. “I want to tell you. It’s just kind of personal.”
“Oh. Then take your time.”
Chris swallowed, sneaking a glance at Vanessa, who was politely staring straight ahead. He allowed himself a few moments to look at the ground and question every decision that had led him to this point, before looking back at Vanessa. “Okay. Um, would you believe me if I told you that the reason why I cast you is because I wanted you in the role?”
Vanessa looked over at him, confused and a little bemused. “Yeah, I would hope you wanted me in the role you put me in.”
“No, it’s—” Chris massaged his temples. “Yes, but it’s more than that. The reason why I cast us as romantic leads is because I'm too much of a coward to make any kind of actual move."
She stared at him, realization coloring her face. The expression was so painfully open, he had to look away again. "What are you saying?" she asked.
Chris exhaled hard. Here goes everything. "I... really like you, Vanessa, and I'm tired of just falling in love onstage."
He couldn't see her, because he had his face in his hands, but the silence felt deafening. So he started rambling. "And I know it's before Christmas and right before you leave for your parents’ house, but I've been hiding this for years at this point and I couldn't not say anything any longer."
"Chris—" Vanessa's voice was gentle, but Chris kept going.
"I was agonizing over your Secret Santa gift and I was trying not to be creepy, and now that I've said that I realize that makes me sound especially creepy, so—"
"Chris—"
"I was desperate, Nessa. I was asking Robert for advice. Robert. Do you know how bad things are if you're asking Robert for—"
Vanessa leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. It was light, barely a peck, but it was enough to startle him into silence. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. "It just seemed like you weren't gonna stop talking any time soon. I just want to ask something. There's a coffee shop I love to go to that's down the street from the theater. Would you like to go there with me sometime after Christmas? On a date?"
Chris couldn't believe it. He stammered through his next words. "I—yes. Absolutely. I would love to do that. With you. Soon."
Vanessa giggled. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you flustered. It's kind of a new look on you."
If Chris wasn't blushing before, he definitely was now. "I'm full of surprises."
He knew he had the dumbest smile on his face, if the one on Vanessa's face was anything to go by. Her hand was right there beside him on the curb. If he just reached over and—
"Guys!” Trevor shouted from behind them. Chris jerked his hand away from Vanessa’s and wheeled around to see his friend walking towards the two of them, grinning. “You guys are missing it. We’re playing Cards Against Humanity, and somehow Dennis is CRUSHING it. You’ve got to get in here!”
“Trevor,” Chris began, trying to remind himself that murder was illegal in Cornley. “We were having a moment, and you ruined it.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t going to say anything, but we kind of were.” Vanessa added, cringing.
Trevor squinted, looking between the two of them, before realization instantly set in. “OH. Oh shit. Sorry guys. But you really should come in and check out the game. It’s really—”
“We’ll be inside in a minute, Trevor!” Chris said through gritted teeth.
Trevor backed away quietly, then darted inside the house. Chris heard frantic whispering and saw some faces looking out of the windows at the two of them. He rolled his eyes, turning back to face Vanessa. “Moment’s over, huh?”
She laughed. “The moment is definitely over. I meant what I said, though. About the date. Did you?”
“Of course.” He stood, offering a hand to her. He glanced back at Jonathan’s house and saw Max and Annie whispering to each other, eyes huge. “Wanna head back inside?”
Vanessa glanced over to the house and laughed at Dennis and Robert staring at them like a zoo exhibit. “They’ll be insufferable. Are you sure?”
“Yeah, but we can deal with them together.”
Vanessa smiled up at him, taking his hand and lifting herself up. “Alright. Let’s do it.”
The society was, indeed, completely insufferable when they walked in. But Chris felt like the whole thing was made a little better by Vanessa holding his hand for the rest of the night.
Judging by the way Vanessa kept blushing and looking over at him, she felt the same way.