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January 2nd
“It's what?”
Paul lifted his arms, a pet carrier in one hand and a colourful bag in the other.
“National travel your pets safely day,” he repeated.
Ingrid nodded slowly. “Of course it is.”
“So I thought I'd make sure that Kong was all set up with everything a happening dog needs for getting around town.” Paul lowered his arms. “Which is getting heavy. Can I come in?”
“Oh. Oh, yes.” Ingrid stepped back. “Of course.”
Paul sauntered into her apartment, calling for the dog.
“His name isn't Kong, you know,” Ingrid said as she closed the door.
“What?” Paul dropped onto the daybed.
“His name isn't Kong,” she repeated. “It's Mr. Snuggles.”
Paul smiled up at her, all sunshine and obliviousness.
“Sure, Ingrid, whatever.”
“Not whatever, Paul...”
Mr. Snuggles raced into the room and jumped up beside Paul. Ingrid found herself softening as she watched Paul fuss over the dog. Maybe she could adjust to her dog being named Kong. It was kind of funny, a tiny little animal named for the enormous monster.
“Check it out Kong-o, I got you a harness, and a carrier with special straps and grippy strips. It even has a place where we can put your name. Kay – Oh –”
“His name is Mr. Snuggles,” Ingrid interrupted, snatching her dog from Paul's lap. “He's my dog. He's my resolution.”
Paul stood up slowly. “I know, I'm sorry.” He reached out and scratched the dog's ears. The back of his hand brushed against Ingrid's chin. “I am sorry. Still working on that big-mouthed idiot thing. I didn't mean to upset you, or Mr. Snuggles.”
Ingrid looked up from Mr. Snuggles and saw worry and apology in Paul's expression. It would always surprise her, she thought, how much this boy cared about her feelings.
February 2nd
“You've never seen Groundhog Day?”
“How many times are you going to ask me the same question? Is this something from the movie?”
Paul scoffed. “It's shock, Ingrid. And disappointment. But mostly shock. Seriously, you've never seen it?”
“No, I haven't. Is it that big a deal?”
“It's a freaking holiday classic! It's the best holiday movie ever. Well, except Die Hard. I've seen it, like, 20 times.”
Die Hard? Ingrid decided to leave that one for the moment. “So you don't really need to see it again?”
Paul froze in his tracks, pulling Ingrid to a stop by their linked hands. “Don't need to see it again? Don't need? This isn't about need, this is about tradition!”
“So you do this every year?” she laughed.
“Since I was six.”
Ingrid blinked.
“I used to go with my sister, or with Hailey, but it's been just me for a while. I kinda wanted you to come with me this year. If you want to. I guess.”
Ingrid blinked again.
“Um, but if you don't want to...”
Paul's fingers squeezed hers, then began to slip away. Ingrid caught his hand before he could let go.
“I do,” she said firmly. “Let's go to the movies.”
March 17th
“Green is not your colour, dude.”
Paul started in on the tiny straps of Mr Snuggles' heinous outfit.
“You don't like it?” Ingrid asked.
“Um, no. He looks like a demented dog magician.”
“He looks festive!”
“I look festive,” Paul said. “You look festive.” She did, too, in a tight green sweater and shamrock hairclips. “Doggo here looks du-umb.”
“You're not Irish,” Ingrid announced as she bent down to put their whiskey glasses on the table.
“Uh,” Paul replied as he stared down Ingrid's shirt. Ingrid's simple cotton bras had become a bit of a fetish of his. One flash of white lace and smooth skin was enough to shut his brain down.
“Irish? You're not Irish.” She stood up, taking Paul's distraction with her. “Your shirt is a lie.”
“That's true,” he admitted. “Does that mean you won't kiss me?”
April 25th
“Your little friend is here,” Marcie announced as she passed Ingrid's cubicle.
“My...”
“Ingrid!” Paul burst into the six-by-six square that Ingrid called her own.
“Paul?”
“I've come to take my girl for a picnic. Central Park, smooshy cheeses, and thou. Sound good?”
“Paul...” Ingrid could feel her cheeks heating.
“It's Administrative Professionals' Day. Google told me. So I thought to myself, who is my favourite administrative professional in the whole world? Easy question, really.”
She saw heads turning towards them. “Paul,” she pleaded.
“That is my name.” Paul dropped to a crouch. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked in a low voice.
“No!” Ingrid said. “Well, maybe. A little,” she admitted. “It's just, this is where I work. It's where I'm a professional.”
“Administratively," he said, grinning. Then his face fell. "But you don't want your boyfriend showing up unannounced?”
Ingrid blinked.
“Boyfriend?” she said.
Paul's expression was a mix of exasperation, amusement, and affection. “Yes, Ingrid. Boyfriend. You're my main squeeze, my only squeeze for months now.”
“Squeeze?” Ingrid rolled her eyes.
“Well, isn't that what you called it when you were my age?”
Ingrid glared at him and shoved his shoulder so he fell back on his bum.
“Ow! Jeez, woman. Is that any way to treat a man who brought you brie?”
May 5th
“More tequila!”
“Um, I don't think so,” Paul said, prying the bottle from Ingrid's fingers. Her pout was almost adorable enough to make him reconsider.
“Boring person!” she accused before pinballing off the furniture in the direction of the dance floor.
“How is it that I'm the grown up right now?” Paul asked Jose Cuervo.
“If you're talking to a bottle, I'm not sure you are.”
Paul spun around, and then put a hand on the table to make sure he stayed upright. Randy was really tall.
“There's no way you're the grown-up, dude,” Paul pointed out.
“True. I think that Elise might be. She's got Ingrid now, and water.”
“Good.” Paul decided it was time to sit down.
“You two are quite the pair,” Randy said with a laugh.
“What?”
“I thought dating someone so old would make you boring. So not true.”
“Ingrid's not boring.”
“No, she is not.”
“She's amazing.”
“I kinda agree with you.”
“I'm gonna go kiss her.” Paul aimed himself towards Ingrid.
"You do that," Randy said. "Dude! Watch out for the couch!"
June 14th
Ingrid's nose itched. She slowly bent her head to one side, lifting her hand.
“Don't!” Paul snatched her hand away.
“It's driving me nuts!” The drying face paint was peeling away from her skin in tiny, irritating flakes.
“Well, it looks adorable. Patriotism suits you.”
Ingrid smiled up at him. He looked pretty cute himself, with the stars and stripes painted on each cheek. She leaned in to kiss him on one flag, then turned her attention to the cotton candy in his hand.
“Thank for dragging me out here,” she said around a mouthful of melting sugar.
“No worries, babe.”
“I'm not really clear on why we're celebrating Flag Day, though.”
Paul looked away, a hint of blush rising behind his face paint.
“Paul?” she prompted.
“Holidays are kinda our thing,” he said, eventually. “Good stuff happens to us on holidays.”
“So you thought Flag Day...?”
“Do you know how few holidays there are in June? It was this or the solstice and I wasn't sure you were up for naked moon worship.”
Ingrid winced. More paint flaked off her nose.
“No, thank you. I don't think anyone wants to see that.”
Paul leaned down and rubbed her nose with his knuckle. “Oh, that's not true. I know at least one person who does.”
July 4th
The sky exploded and Ingrid shrieked.
“You okay, babe?” Paul asked.
“Yes! Great!”
“Like fireworks, huh?”
Another rocket exploded and a rain of golden stars fell to earth. Ingrid clapped her hands and bounced on her toes.
“This is amazing!”
Paul winced – she'd yelled right in his ear.
“So that's a yes,” he guessed. “Good to know.”
August 19th
“Yikes!” Ingrid gripped Paul's hand tightly. The plane tilted back to a more normal angle and her stomach came back to its normal position, too.
“You lovebirds okay back there?” The pilot's voice was tinny in the headset Ingrid wore.
“We're good,” Paul sounded distant, too. He squeezed her hand and met her eyes with a sympathetic expression on his face. “Probably ready to go back down, though.”
Ingrid smiled her thanks. “Please,” she squeaked into the microphone.
She held Paul's hand until they reached the ground. With his help, and the pilot's, she made it safely out of the plane. Only pride and Paul's arm around her waist kept her from sinking right to the wonderful, solid ground.
“That was so much more scary that what I did at the theatre,” she whispered to Paul as they waved goodbye to the pilot.
“Too scary?” he asked, his eyebrows wrinkled with concern.
Ingrid looked up at the sky and remembered the confusing soaring, swooping, sinking feelings she'd had as they'd flown over beautiful farmland and forest.
“Not too scary. Definitely never do it again scary, but not regretting it scary. Y'know?”
Paul smiled and kissed her forehead. “I know.”
“Thank you.”
“For scaring you?”
“For reminding me I'm alive.” Ingrid wrapped her arms tight around his waist. “Very alive.” She leaned in and kissed him deeply. “Very, very alive.”
Paul kissed her back, his fingers tangling in her hair. “Alive is good.”
She kissed her way along his jaw to bite his earlobe. “Happy Aviation Day to me.”
September 3rd
“C'mon Ingrid, you look awesome!”
“I most certainly do not.”
“You look great,” Paul insisted. “That bathing suit is super sexy. All the other bathing suits are going to be jealous. You should take it off.”
“Paul!” Ingrid slapped his hands away.
“Seriously, Ingrid, you look really good. All my friends are going to be blown away.”
Ingrid picked up a fabric thing and wrapped it around and around until she was covered knees to throat. Paul sighed.
“So, no swimming,” he said.
“No swimming,” Ingrid agreed.
“Do you want to go home?”
“Oh, no, no. I'm having a good time, here, with everyone.” She waved her hands. “I just realized I can go out there in a bathing suit. Not with – everyone else.”
“You know I think you're gorgeous, right?”
“I know you do,” she said. “It's not about you. It's about me and twenty years of extra gravity.”
Paul couldn't help himself. He reached out and pulled her close, hugging her gently.
“Did I ever tell you that I love watching science shows?”
Ingrid nodded her head, a puzzled expression on her face.
“Well, one thing I learned about gravity,” Paul murmured as he kissed his way up her neck, “is that it is part of the laws of attraction. All your extra gravity, that's got to explain why I'm so incredibly attracted to you.”
October 31st
“Do I look silly? I feel silly,” Paul announced.
Ingrid turned around and bit her lip. He looked great, actually, in his tight trousers, puffy shirt, and vest. The problem was what he held in his arms.
“I think we need to get a new lightsaber,” she managed before the giggles took her.
“Yup. No way Darth Snuggles is going to take anyone's hand off without that.”
“Do you think it's a good idea to take him to your, um,”
”Sister's boyfriend's mother's...”
”Yes. Her Hallowe'en party?”
Paul shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”
Ingrid looked pointedly at the dog, which was savagely attacking its own cape.
”I don't know if he's ready for high society yet.”
”Oh c'mon. He's the escort of a princess!” Paul grinned at her as he tried to pry Mr Snuggles' teeth from the cape.
”No one's going to know who I am. If I'd dressed Mr. Snuggles as an Ewok –“
”Hush your mouth! Never mention those abominations in the same breath as our little dude. Yuch!” Paul gave an exaggerated shudder. “But anyway, if we get bored, he's an awesome excuse for leaving.”
”Do you expect to get bored?”
”Well, yeah. Rich people party equals boring,” Paul explained. “Once we've eaten all the good food, I figure Darth Snuggles can feel a call of nature and we'll bounce.”
”After I went to all the trouble of stuffing myself into this outfit?”
Paul looked up from the mangled foam toy he was trying to fit together. “Oh, don't worry. Han Solo knows exactly how to get Leia out of her Endor party dress.”
November 22nd
Ingrid curled her legs up on the sofa and snuggled close to Paul. He was snoring gently, head tilted back. She was tempted to trace the curve of his ear to where it met her favourite curl, but that would have involved moving and she was so very comfortable.
Mr Snuggles wheezed quietly on Paul's other side. The little dog was sprawled out, tummy up, tail finally at rest. Paul's hand rested on the sofa beside it, having fallen away from a marathon belly rub when dog and man slipped into sleep.
There were dishes soaking and a fridge full of leftovers. The TV burbled away, some old movie playing for background noise. It was an unexpected, yet perfect, holiday scene. Ingrid was tired and happy. She was also starting to realise that she was falling in love with the boy, the young man, who had helped her change her life. This year, he was what she was most thankful for.
December 31st
Paul watched the lights of Times Square play over Ingrid's upturned face. Her smile warmed him more than the hot chocolate in their thermos. It was one of her best joy-and-wonder smiles, which he filed away between the one from the time he took her to see the Degas exhibit and the expression she'd had while walking all of New York at the Brooklyn Museum. He knew that some day Ingrid would realize that she was wasting her time with him - a kid, a barely-reformed jerk - and then those memory smiles would be all he had. So each one had a place in his mind.
Shaking away the downer thoughts, he squeezed Ingrid's hand tight.
“So, we've got two minutes to midnight. Any resolutions left to do?”
Ingrid pecked him on the cheek. “Nope. I have the best resolution coach in the world. No wish unfulfilled.”
“You know, baby, I live to fulfill you.” Paul waggled his eyebrows.
“Paul!” She swiped at him with her free hand, but she was also grinning.
“Okay, so this year's taken care of,” Paul said. “What's on the list for 2013?”
Ingrid looked up at the clock, and the waiting ball. Her silence began to make Paul uncomfortable.
“I don't have many resolutions figured out yet,” she said, finally. “But I can tell you what's top of my list.”
“Yeah?”
“My resolution is to spend as many holidays as possible with you.”
Paul stared at her and then narrowed his eyes. “You do realise there's a holiday for something practically every day of the year, right?”
“Yup,” Ingrid said, smiling so brightly it made his heart jump. “And I plan to celebrate every one of them with you.”