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Snickerdoodles and Suitemates
“Okay, so meet back here in two hours? That works for everyone?” Elle checks our faces for agreement.
“Yep.” Nick speaks for all of us, bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his joggers.
Those fucking joggers. Their frequent inclusion in his outfit rotation is slowly eroding my already shaky resolve. They just…they hug him in all the right places, and I mean all of them. I swear, I thought Tao and Elle getting engaged two months into our year-long lease would make the dynamic weird, but it turns out all we needed was Nick in those joggers to ramp up the sexual tension to unbearable and, frankly, concerning levels.
“Alright then, let the fifth annual Suitemates Secret Santa commence!” Elle pulls the Santa hat from behind her back with a flourish.
Our flatmate traditions have escalated over the years, but they all started with Suitemates Secret Santa when we were skinny, nervous freshman, trying to cement our newly-formed friend group into something more permanent.
Now, five years on, we’re out of the dorms and into a Center City apartment that we’ve filled with the most chaotic assortment of Christmas cheer possible: Off-Key Carol Night (where we invite our tone-deaf elderly neighbor Carol over to sing carols…trust me, it works), Blindfold Gingerbread Race (pretty self-explanatory), and Drunk Christmas Eve Eve, when we get absolutely smashed on mulled wine and reenact our favorite holiday movies.
And then there are the elves. We’re two years in to this particular tradition and I still don’t know if I love or hate those creepy fuckers. It’s just…there are five of them. And they look like each of us. And we have to cast votes to figure out who played Santa every morning and if you pull the short straw you have to stay up late or get up early and come up with some kind of scene and it’s just a lot, okay?
Plus, those elves can be pretty fucking passive aggressive when there’s even a hint of discordance in our flat, four of them pointedly doing dishes while Sai’s elf plays video games, or leaving sweaty gym clothes in the bathroom, or having sex in the living room again? Seriously? Your bedroom is literally right there—why do you have to burn my retinas out of my skull after I’ve spent my entire day staring at a computer screen and oh look, now my elf is walking out of the apartment with his suitcase: it’s been nice knowing you guys!
Anyway. The elves have been doing their thing for the last couple of weeks and it’s been mostly fine so far. I’m even contemplating using them to send a message of my own.
See, I have this problem. He’s about 6’2”, covered in a constellation of freckles that disappear under his waistband and floppy hair that he just casually brushes away mid-sentence, like, I’m sorry, I’m supposed to take that in stride? And even worse, his soft, gooey, sappy center is surrounded by bundled muscles and five o’clock shadows and those fucking joggers and he has no idea what he is doing to me.
Nick and I have been friends for years – best friends even – but once I finally admitted to myself that there were feelings beneath all that hazy, pulsing attraction – strong ones –, I’ve barely been able to function around him. And we live together.
I’m pretty sure Nick hasn’t noticed because, well, how do I put this delicately? He’s a bit of a himbo. Now, don’t get me wrong. He’s plenty book smart and very emotionally aware, but we’re basically polar opposites. I’m all shifty eyes and suspicion while he’s all sunbeams and hearts and puppy dog paws.
Every morning, he hands me a travel mug of coffee and says, “Have a brew-tiful day!” and I make sure he hasn’t locked his keys in his car again. He’ll slip little notes into my work bag full of dad jokes and “Go get ‘em, Char! :)!”, while I smack his credit card out of his hand every time Sarah McLachlan sings about animal cruelty because he hasn’t paid his phone bill yet. He’s infuriatingly trusting and endearingly sweet and I can't draw a full breath around him anymore because I’m absolutely head over heels in love. It’s completely unsustainable.
I jump when Elle clears her throat and shakes the Santa hat again, glaring at me.
Nick and I reach into the hat at the same time, searching around the velvet lining for tiny slips of paper. Our fingers brush and there it is again: those electric sizzles that fizz and pop any time we touch. He feels it too, right? It’s not just me? If the blush creeping out of the collar of his shirt is any indication, he does.
In a moment of completely unexpected boldness, probably brought about by my unraveling grip on reality, I curl my finger around his and squeeze. If he yanks his hand away, I’m sure I can come up with a plausible excuse. A finger spasm, for example. That sounds like a very normal, legitimate thing that could happen to an otherwise perfectly healthy twenty three year old. Definitely something that comes on very suddenly, and that I wouldn’t have mentioned to him over the last five years. Honestly, he’d probably buy it. I’d probably wake up the next morning to a print-out of the WebMD ‘finger spasm’ page under my door with a little ‘Thought this might help! <3’ written in the corner. Ugh.
Nick doesn’t recoil, though. Instead, his eyes snap to mine. We stare at each other, fingers hooked inside of a Santa hat in the middle of a depressing mall food court, of all places. He brushes his thumb against my knuckle. If he had done it once, I could convince myself that he had succumbed to his own finger spasm. But twice? With intense eye contact? I take in a sharp breath. So this is what it feels like to be electrocuted.
Whatever is going on between us is getting harder to ignore.
“Guys, stop hogging the Santa hat.” Sai elbows me out of the way and thrusts his grubby little hand in with ours. This Santa hat certainly isn’t big enough for three, so I grab a slip of paper and turn around so no one can see the name scrawled across it.
Nick Nelson.
Of course he would put his full name.
_____
“Elle,” I hiss. I’m crouching behind a rack of women’s wrap dresses in the middle of Macy’s. She whirls around, a frown pulling at the corner of her lips when her gaze settles on me.
“What are you doing, Charlie?”
“Shhhh!” I beckon her over.
She glances over her shoulder and then scoots in next to me. “What’s going on?”
“I got Nick.” I hold out the piece of paper in my palm as proof.
“You’re not supposed to tell anyone!” She pushes my hand away and squeezes her eyes shut, like that will erase the information from her memory.
I slip it back into my pocket. “You know how I’ve been kind of like, trying to find a way to tell him?”
She nods.
“I think the universe is telling me that this is my chance.”
She claps her hands over her mouth seconds after the high-pitched squeal escapes. “Oh my god, Charlie, yes! Do it!”
“Should I?” I feel wild. This is a stupid idea, right? But Nick just smoldered at me so intensely that the tips of my curls are singed.
“Let’s find Sai.” Of course. Sai. Nick’s other best friend in our flat. Maybe Sai has some kind of weird sporty lad go-with-the-flow access to Nick’s deepest thoughts that I’m not privy to because I can’t…I dunno, throw a ball in a straight line? That’s a thing people try to do with balls, right? Sai will know if this is a good idea.
_____
Somehow the four minutes we spend looking for Sai is enough to convince me that this is a terrible idea. I’ll just get Nick something stupid like a candle that smells like snickerdoodles and knowing him, he’ll look at me in wonder, all ‘how did you know’ and ‘cinnamon and vanilla, my favorite’ and breathy ‘you’re amazing, Char.’ And Jesus Christ, I know it’s just melted wax and ‘fragrance’, but the awe in his gaze will be enough to make me wonder whether I really did hang the moon. Oh I’m so fucked.
We find Sai chatting up a salesperson in the small appliance department. Elle tugs me behind her like a reluctant toddler. “Sai. Do you happen to remember the other night when you and Tao and I had dinner because Nick and Charlie went out?”
My cheeks burn. Okay, so apparently our absence didn’t go unnoticed. Nick and I had gone on another one of our ‘platonic dates,’ as I’d started calling them in my head. Part of the reason I’m so on edge is because of the way we spent that night, ice skating with our hands linked, drinking cocoa in the gently falling snow, eyes locked and cheeks pink. That and the way he kept fucking lapping at the whipped cream on his hot chocolate, cause like, again, come on.
“Yes…?” Sai draws it out, like a question. He isn’t picking up what Elle is putting down.
Elle grits her teeth and grips his forearm, long nails like talons. “Remember how we were talking about how much we love our friends and how we want them to feel comfortable loving each other too?” She glares at him, nodding slowly, encouraging the gears in his head to turn just a little bit faster.
“Ohhhhh!” Sai says. He looks between me and Elle excitedly. “Is it happening?”
“It’s happening!” She releases her death grip on his arm, clasps his hands in hers, and then squeals, a proper, ear-splitting squeal. She and Sai start jumping down, and I’m touched, really, but like...does this mean they knew already? Does everyone in our apartment except me and Nick know that me and Nick are… me and Nick?
“But what do I get him?” I moan. “What kind of present says ‘It’s either the way you apply your Chapstick or that you make me believe in the goodness of humanity, but I think I’ve fallen in love with you so here’s a token of my affection that I bought in a mostly-abandoned mall for less than $20 in under two hours’?”
Elle looks at me with a mix of concern and pity. “Come on, let’s go find Tao.”
_____
Tao is where he’s been every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night for the last three weeks: firmly planted in his elevated position as Santa’s right hand elf.
See, Tao has this thing. He says he’s trying to ‘empathize with The Other’ or some shit like that, but we think he's just broke. Either way, his list of ridiculous, temporary side-gigs is an ever-expanding universe of ‘Really, Tao?’ and 'Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ and 'Absolutely not.' Seriously, though: Creepy bellhop in a haunted house? Ill-advised birthday clown? And who can forget the slicked-back hair of his sidewalk club promoter days?
He joins us on a bench during his break, listening carefully to Elle’s rushed summary through an extremely realistic prosthetic ear (“Those plastic monstrosities that came with the costume are an insult to elves everywhere, and I refuse to wear them. I shall create my own, thank you very much.” – Tao, four weeks ago).
“Well we know he likes sports.” Tao strokes his fake goatee, another part of the costume no one suggested.
“I’m not giving him a fucking rugby ball as a sign of my feelings.” I scan the shops across the walkway, trying to spark something, anything.
“Sexy underwear?” Sai points at The Toolbox and its bare-assed, thong-clad mannequins. It’s very gay.
“Not sure that’s the exact message I want to send.” I do want to send that message, very much so, but first I want to make sure he knows that I like, properly, unabashedly love him. It’s almost embarrassing, the fantasies I have lately. I want to prepare his mise-en-place when he’s on dinner duty even though my knife skills are rudimentary at best. I want to spot him when he’s trying to max out at the gym so he isn’t crushed by a barbell even though he could bench me. I want him to read my manuscript. I want him to know that I have a manuscript. I want more than a gift from The Toolbox might suggest. Even though…maybe if the Secret Santa situation goes well I’ll come back for a gift that I’ll get to unwrap.
“Remember that one service project we all did, what was it, sophomore year? When we went to Habitat for Humanity? He was really into that, right?”
I remember him standing under the scaffolding, watching the guys hanging siding like they were star athletes. He clapped like a five-year-old watching a birthday party magician when the head carpenter pulled tool after tool out of his toolbelt. He still drives by that house ‘just to see how she’s doing.’
An idea pops into my head. I’m not sure if it’s a good one, but it’s better than anything else I have, and we’re down to less than an hour. I stand suddenly and face my friends with a decisive nod. “Okay, I think I’ve got it. I’ll see you in 45 minutes.”
_____
I have to give it to them; my flatmates have actually kept it pretty cool in the lead-up to our Suitemates Secret Santa Surprise Soiree, even though they seem just as excited about my plans as I am. Tao, Elle, and Sai nod seriously when I explain that they have to leave the room as soon as I give Nick his present because I don’t want an audience if my heart gets broken, and I definitely don’t want an audience if Nick responds as eagerly as I hope he will.
Nick, bless his heart, is oblivious to the simmering excitement and the elaborate plans whispered right under his nose. I’m in a weird headspace all day, full of nerves and giddiness, stars in my eyes, heart in my mouth, all that over-the-top shit that precedes a potentially life-altering confession.
We finally get to the last present under the tree. I’ve addressed it to Nick Nelson (I might be in love with him but I’m more in love with making fun of him). Everyone knows it’s from me. Our housemates because they were involved, and Nick because even though he’s a little dense sometimes, he does understand the process of elimination.
My heart threatens to escape from my chest as he ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ at my wrapping job. My left eye visibly twitches when he holds the present up to the light, and then he sniffs at it, and then exaggeratedly shakes it near his ear and I think I’m about to explode into a puff of smoke, like is this some sort of Vaudevillian charade to him? What, suddenly he’s Charlie Fucking Chaplain? I’m hanging on by my fingernails here!
Everyone leans forward, collectively holding our breath, while he painstakingly unwraps my present. My vision blurs, not even from the spiked cocoa – my stomach is way too nervous to handle dairy at the moment. No, it’s all legitimate fear and excitement and desperation and neediness and oh god, he’s pulling it out and a little frown dimples his chin and he holds it up and looks at me uncertainly.
“A hammer? And nails?” He realizes when he sees me that I’m basically vibrating out of my skin, so he backtracks and beams at me across the room despite his confusion because he has a good fucking heart and a gooey center, dammit. “Thanks Charlie. I…I love it?”
A hush falls over the room as three sets of eyes swing to me.
This is it, the moment I’ve been waiting for. I take a deep breath, ready to pour my heart out, but Sai cuts me off.
“Ohhh, because you want Nick to nail you!” He looks like the cat that ate the cream, like he’s solved the world’s greatest mystery.
My eyes widen in horror when I remember that yes, half the fun of the Suitemates Secret Santa reveal is the part where everyone tries to guess why a particular gift was given to a particular person. It’s in the bylaws and everything.
Elle jumps in. “No! I get it! It’s because you’ve always wanted to see Nick’s hammer!” She cups a hand around her mouth and whispers loudly: “Get it? It’s a metaphorical hammer!”
Tao is bouncing in his seat now, oblivious to Nick’s growing confusion and my entire life flashing before my eyes. “You want Nick to hammer you. No! Wait…do you want to hammer Nick? I don’t know how you two would work in the bedroom, come to think of it.” He pauses like he’s actually trying to figure out the logistical side of mine and Nick’s yet-to-be-consummated sex life, while I open and close my mouth like a fish, my insides curling into themselves. Tao snaps his fingers and points at me enthusiastically. “Nick’s the hammer, you’re the nail…it’s a metaphor, just like Elle said! It’s, it’s –”
“Get OUT!” I yell. The silence that follows is deafening. No one meets my gaze except, of course, poor little confused Nick.
“Me too?” he asks, making a move to stand.
“No, not you," I snap.
He falls back in his seat, chastened. Shit. I’m seriously fucking this up.
The others slink out of the living room and head into the kitchen. Elle mouths an exaggerated ‘sorry’ in my direction and pulls the door shut behind her.
And suddenly Nick and I are alone. The room we’ve spent so much time in over the last year – usually so loud with dramatic reenactments and escalating cheers and thumping bass and drunken giggles – is eerily, uncomfortably silent.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I...that’s not really how I envisioned this going.” I say it weakly, because I am weak. What was supposed to be a beautiful expression of sentiment quickly devolved into sex jokes, and poor Nick has no context for any of it.
He walks over to me, eyes crinkled in concern, and pulls me into his chest. His thick arms encircle my waist and he presses against the back of my head until it comes to rest on his shoulder. He smells like snickerdoodles and pine trees and gooey centers and snowflakes in the moonlight. I already feel a million times better.
“Hey, it’s okay. Tell me what you envisioned.” He says it gently, his voice soft. He sits down on the couch and pats the spot next to him. “Why did you get me a hammer and nails for Christmas? I’d love to know.”
I don’t know why I’m suddenly more nervous about telling him the real reason instead of just lunging forward to press my lips against his. I think it’s because it’s kind of clear, once I tell him, that he means something to me. He means so much. My voice shakes, and I can tell Nick wants to hold my hand and tell me it’s okay but he doesn’t want to spook me. “I just…remember how much you loved that day we volunteered with Habitat a few years back?”
A small smile stretches his lips. “Yeah, I loved that entire day. Everyone was so cool.”
“And I know you don’t really love your job right now, and you’ve been like, trying to figure out what comes next for you career-wise, and I just kinda thought maybe. Maybe you’d like to see if you like building things? As, like, a hobby? Or even as something more serious? I thought this might help you get a bit of practice.”
“Charlie,” he says it really softly, and now he does take my hand. I stare at our intertwined fingers, resting in between us on the same garish orange plaid couch that we saved from the dumpster when we heaved into our suite from the sidewalk our sophomore year. “That’s so thoughtful. I love it. I would love to…to build things.” He says it like it’s a brand new idea. He says it like I hung the moon. Maybe I did.
“I also wondered…if maybe. Maybe you and me?” I glance over at him and lick my lips.
He watches me with an open expression, patiently waiting for me to finish my thought. His thumb brushes against my knuckle. Once. Twice. It's all the affirmation I need.
“Maybe while you’re exploring whether you like construction or carpentry or whatever, you’d maybe want to try to build something? Like, with me? I feel like we could build something special together.” I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to burst into flames.
“Like a birdhouse?” he breathes.
Oh my god. “No. Like a future." I search his face but he’s totally lost.
Alright. Apparently Nick doesn’t think in metaphors. “Nick, I like you. I want to build a future with you. I thought maybe a hammer and nails would be a cute way to illustrate that within the bounds of this…well whatever the fuck this event is, but obviously it didn’t come across if I’m having to explain it to this level of detail.”
“What? You like me?” His voice is quiet, reverent even. Like he can’t believe it’s happening either.
I can barely meet his eyes, but when I do, he’s got the biggest, dopiest, gooiest smile on his face. He tugs at me until we’re standing in the shadow of the Christmas tree and all the uncertainty and stress about how badly this is going melts away when he brushes my cheekbone with his thumb.
My eyes flutter closed at the touch, and when I open them, he’s still there, a halo of Christmas lights setting him in a soft glow and twinkling in his eyes. He bends his head and nuzzles his nose against mine.
Okay, yeah, I think he feels it too.
My toes curl in my socks when those soft, pink lips press into mine for the very first time and god he even tastes like snickerdoodles. Snickerdoodles and kindness.
I melt into the moment: the scrape of stubble along my jaw and the soft fabric pressed into my back and the flutter of his lashes against my cheek. It’s like he’s pressing those sunbeams and hearts right into my skin and I hate myself for even thinking it, but it really feels like a Hallmark-approved Christmas miracle.
Nick rests his forehead against mine and sighs. “I really like you too. I’ve been dying to kiss you for like, ages.” His eyes are shining. Mine probably are too.
“You…” What ?! I blink, trying to clear away the syrupy slow-motion kiss fog. “Really?”
“Charlie, seriously? We need to work on your observation skills.” He noses into my hair and kisses my temple.
“I…” I’m pretty sure his tenderness and lips and hands and those fucking joggers that he’s wearing again have actually stopped my brain from forming coherent thoughts, which might be a bit of a problem moving forward because forming coherent thoughts is my entire thing.
He leans back and raises both eyebrows. “I don’t leave Tao notes. I don’t make Elle coffee every morning. I do not leave Sai plates of food when he works late.”
“Oh.” He makes a good point. Perhaps the himbo swings both ways.
I brush the hair from his eyes and go onto my toes to kiss him again. It feels reckless. It feels inevitable.
“Are you two together yet or what?” Tao hollers through the door. He is immediately shushed by Elle and Sai.
I can’t believe this is happening to me right now. The fact that Nick and I used the Suitemates Secret Santa Surprise Soiree Session to declare our feelings to each other is going to make Sai’s entire life. “Come on, let’s go tell everyone.”
Nick excitedly takes my hand and I beam at him with stars in my eyes. I think he hung the moon.
Sai, Tao, and Elle whirl around from where they’re huddled near the kitchen counters when we throw open the door, their eyes wide and hopeful.
Nick is so happy he practically bounces over to them. “Guess what guys? Charlie likes me! And I like him!”
Everyone moves at once, pulling us into the center of a mash of limbs and hair and tiptoes and squeals, all 'I’m so happy for you!’ and 'I knew it!’ and ‘It’s about damn time!’ and ‘No fucking on the couch – that’s mine and Elle’s spot’ and I’ve never been happier in my entire life.
Eventually they filter out and it’s just me and Nick in the kitchen now. Nick reaches past me and grabs a snickerdoodle from the counter.
Oh. That explains a few things.
“Hey, check out what they did with the elves.” He gestures at the counter with his half-eaten cookie.
I walk over and take a look.
Nick chews thoughtfully. “I don’t get it – why is Red riding the hammer? Why is Red nailing Green?”
I bite my lip and slide a bit closer to Nick, waiting for the penny to drop, but it obviously isn’t going to without a little nudge on my part. “I think they’re just teasing us a bit. You know…suggesting that I’d like to see your hammer?” I grab a snickerdoodle and take a deliberate bite, locking gazes with him.
“But…but,” he stammers, eyebrows pulling together. “You have seen it, Charlie. You picked it out at the mall, just the other day. Do you…do you not remember what my hammer looks like?”
I sigh deeply. “Nick. It’s a metaphor. The hammer is your penis.”