Page 31 of Merry Mischief List
“My mom always did it growing up.” He shrugs, gesturing at his place completely void of holiday decor. “And considering I live alone and typically travel home for Christmas, it always seemed kinda pointless to do one.”
“How incredibly sad. I can’t believe you’ve never had the joy of decorating a tree and having tinsel in places it definitely does not belong.” Porter studies me without responding. “You okay there?”
“Yeah… just…”
“Thinking about where I had the tinsel?”
He fights a smile. “Something like that.”
* * *
“How big a tree do we want?” I ask, wandering through a row of pines.
“Usually my brothers and I found the biggest one we could carry back down the mountain,” Porter replies.
“Hold up.” I grab his arm. “I thought you’ve never done the tree thing.”
“I said I’ve neverdecorateda tree, not that I’ve never taken part in the cutting down of one.”
“You actually cut them down yourselves?” My mind wanders to him in a flannel button-up, swinging an ax at a tree stump. Sweat dripping down his forehead as he—
“Sure did,” he replies, snapping me out of my lumberjack Porter daydream.
We continue walking through the rows, and I flip the tag over on a large spruce to check the price. Instead, I stare down at the word “Darla.” Confused, I check the tag on another tree: Sunny. And another: Olaf.
“Okay, new mission,” I say, spinning to Porter, who’s already eyeing me with amusement. “Let’s look for whatever tree has the funniest or most unique name.”
“This is a tree tent in a Walmart parking lot. What names are you expecting to find?” Porter asks.
“I don’t know.” I wave my arms around. “Humor me.”
“Fine, what are the stakes?”
“Loser buys dinner,” I say, grinning.Girl’s gotta eat.
“I feel like I’m being played here since I’m assumingyouhave final say on any tree we choose, but sure, the loser buys dinner.”
He grabs my shoulders, spinning me back towards the rows of trees. Considering we're only a few days from Christmas, the options are ratherlimited. We split up to scour through the selection.
Twenty trees down, and nothing more interesting than “Jellybean.”
“I’ve got a Richard,” Porter calls from the row over.
“Unless it says Dick in parentheses, I’m not interested!” I call back, flipping a tag. “I’ve got a Holly. That’s festive.”
“Boringggg,” Porter replies.
“Okay.” I continue looking through the options, feeling like this may have not been as fun a challenge as I hoped. I make my way towards the front, looking at the tiniest Christmas trees they have. There’s one about four feet tall but flush and full.
“What’s your name, little guy?” I mutter to myself, checking the tag.
Spruce Wayne.
A wide grin spreads across my face. I have definitely won this. What are the odds I find a freaking Batman Christmas tree while in the company of someone I know is a fan?
“Oh, Porter!” I shout. “I’ve found our tree.”
A minute later he joins me, and I show him the nametag.
