Mistletoe Mishap

by Siri Caldwell

  “Six. Or five, plus today. Since we didn’t have a winner yesterday, all I have to do is win the next six times, and I’ve won the whole thing.”

  Viv looked way too excited about this.

  “I see what you’re doing, babe, but let’s review: The bet was not whoever wins fifty-one percent of the twelve days first. It was whoever could make the other person…” Kendra cleared her throat. The hallway looked empty, but she wasn’t going to say come. “…twelve times first.”

  “Which was not logically sound. How can either of us get twelve wins if we can only try once a day? We’re already down to only ten days.”

  “Eleven.”

  “Which is also less than twelve.”

  Shit, Viv was right. They hadn’t thought this through.

  “I can’t believe this.” If they didn’t change the rules, they’d both already lost.

  “Majority wins,” Viv said.

  “No.” There was no way Viv was going to lock her out early and cheat them out of the last…‌five?…‌days of competition. No way. “Whoever can make the other person…” Oh dear God, she was turning into Viv, unable to say certain words out loud, but Jesus, everyone she worked with was inside that room. She coughed. “The most times.”

  “Which will be clear after six wins.”

  Kendra shook her head. “You’re forgetting there could be more than one winner per day. We could both rack up eleven wins by the end of this.”

  “Oh.” Viv bit her lip and her eyes grew rounder, making her look twenty years younger. “Right. I knew that.”

  Kendra kissed Viv’s forehead. “Ready to have your mind blown eleven more times?”

  “More times? You mean times.”

  “I’ve done this before,” she whispered into her hair. “To you. I’m sure you remember.”

  Viv flushed. “Possibly.”

  “I saw you take that mistletoe.”

  Viv looked down at the snip of drooping greenery she’d been hiding behind her back.

  “Have plans for it?” Kendra asked.

  “I have no idea what you mean.”

  Kendra laughed. “Sure you don’t.”

  That mistletoe was Viv’s idea, not Kendra’s. That was a really good sign. It meant Viv wasn’t going to be jumpy when it came time to use it.

  “If I did‌—‌and that’s a big if‌—‌it would require a change of venue.”

  “A change of venue,” Kendra said. “You mean, like the restroom down this hall?”

  “Ugh, no.”

  At the far end of the hallway, a woman from Kendra’s department turned the corner and came their way, no doubt heading for the party. The absurd reindeer antler headgear kind of gave it away. Viv not-so-subtly pretended to examine the nearest of the display cases that lined the walls, highlighting notable events in the school’s history.

  “I know her,” Kendra hissed.

  “Shit,” Viv whispered. Her expression shifted subtly and her voice resumed a conversational level. “How did everything go in the lab today? Did you have to realign the rock saw again?”

  “Always,” Kendra said, slightly irritated that Viv could make the switch so seamlessly. And slightly mollified that she understood her work. Cutting rocks into slices was unsurprisingly hard on the saw blades, and hammering a rim to shape it by a few thousandths of an inch was tricky. “The blade was getting jammed in the cut, as usual.”

  “Kendra!” said her colleague Lashanna as she approached. “Are you on your way in or planning your escape?”

  Kendra smiled. “Escape? You mean that’s an option?”

  “Who’s going to tell? Not me.” Lashanna glanced curiously at Viv, who had turned to nod politely at her.

  Lashanna was a new hire, and it was obvious she had either never met Viv or didn’t recognize her, so Kendra made the introductions.

  “You two should come to my Christmas cookie-decorating party,” Lashanna said.

  “Uh…” Kendra said eloquently.

  “I always have one for my girls, but this year I thought, why should the kids have all the fun?”

  Fun?

  “That’s very kind of you,” Viv said. She was always careful with the way she spoke, but in professional situations, when she tried to hide the foreign accent she’d never completely been able to lose, her diction became excruciatingly correct.

  “Yeah, thanks for the invite,” Kendra said. “But I don’t think we’re in the cookie-decorating spirit this year.” Because we have alternate plans for every single day between now and Christmas.

  Lashanna gave a don’t‌-‌worry‌-‌about‌-‌it wave of her hand. “I know what you mean.”

  God, Kendra hoped not.

  “Well. I should go face the chaos in there,” Lashanna said, indicating the open doors to the holiday party.

  “And we need to make our getaway,” Kendra said. “If anyone asks if you saw me…”

  Lashanna nodded. “I’ll tell them you were full of festive cheer.”

  “No!” Kendra said, but Lashanna was already leaving. “They’ll never believe that.”

  “I might have seen you wearing reindeer antlers,” Lashanna said over her shoulder, grinning.

  “How do people know this shit about me?” Kendra complained to Viv once they were alone. “She’s only worked here one semester.”

  “People talk.”

  “About my opinion on something completely irrelevant like Christmas accessories?”

  Viv twisted the mistletoe between her fingers. “Are we really going home? I thought we were only taking a break out here. I thought you were required to attend.”

  “I’m required to make an appearance,” Kendra said.

  She didn’t like the residue of formality in Viv’s voice.

  Don’t change your mind, don’t change your mind, don’t change your mind, Viv, babe, please.

  “Which I did,” Kendra said. “So did you.”

  Viv pressed her lips together, clearly torn. “I did, didn’t I.”

  “Yes, you did. That means we’re both done for the night as far as work responsibilities go.”

  Viv looked like she was thinking about it.

  She ought to be. She was the one with the mistletoe, after all.

  “You know,” Kendra said, “I seem to remember your office is conveniently located in this very building.” Down a maze of endless hallways, but still. “That would definitely be closer.”

  “It would,” Viv agreed.

  “Yeah?” Kendra suddenly felt a lot more cheerful.

  “Yeah. Come on.”

  —

  The immunology department’s hallway was decked out for the holidays, walls and office doors covered in paper snowmen, snowflakes, and poinsettias.

  Viv stopped at an electrical outlet outside a dark office and unplugged a string of colored lights. “We’re supposed to turn these off when we leave for the night.”

  “Doesn’t the night security guard do that?” Kendra glanced down the empty hallway. This wasn’t the only door that remained festively lit. “And you didn’t tell me your department had a nondenominational holiday door-decorating contest.” Amazing that with all the hours they spent talking, there were still tidbits that never got mentioned. Apparently it was very important that Kendra be aware of the pros and cons of the various sizes of glassware Viv used in the lab, but this door thing was so uninteresting to Viv that it hadn’t even occurred to her to bring it up.

  “How did you figure out it was a contest?”

  “I’m smart that way.” She pointed to the door on their left. A snowman was doubled over, spewing fluorescent green…‌was that oatmeal? A photo taken through a microscope of a disgusting parasite was glued to its belly. She’d bet anything the professor behind that door was a specialist in that disease and had personally taken that pic. “Immunologist humor?”

  “Neville does this every year. You don’t remember?”

  “I only care about one thing in your department, and it’s n
ot Professor Vomit.”

  “Aw. Sweet, but I know you’re just oblivious.”

  “I’m not oblivious. To you.”

  Viv gave her a look. “Each year he switches the patient. Last year it was a penguin. The year prior to that, it was a polar bear.” She bent down and unplugged another string of lights. “He finds it amusing that students might believe a cold-weather animal would be infected by a tropical disease.”

  “Charming.”

  “Unfortunately, someone in a position of power on some unnecessary departmental committee found his enthusiasm for the season inspirational.” Viv finished with the lights and straightened. “And then we all had to do it.”

  “I thought you liked decorating for Christmas,” Kendra said, trailing behind Viv as they continued walking. “You do it at home.”

  “I don’t like being forced to decorate. I prefer to do it because I want to.”

  They were almost at Viv’s office. From a distance, it didn’t look like she’d done anything to her door. There were no dangling lights, no wreath jutting out.

  “My students wanted to help,” Viv said. “I told them they should be studying for their exams, but they were very insistent.”

  “They love you.”

  “They don’t love me.”

  “Give it a rest, Viv. Your students know a good thing when they see it.”

  “My students know a good excuse to avoid studying when they see it. So I decided on something that required minimal effort.”

  “Can’t wait,” Kendra said.

  A few more steps, and there it was. Viv had covered her door in black wrapping paper and stuck a small circle of red foil in the center, two-thirds of the way up. At the very top were the words RUDOLPH IN THE DARK.

  “I love it.” Kendra checked out the door across the hall‌—‌a pinecone wreath‌—‌and turned back to Viv’s door with her hands on her hips. “This is so you. You say decorating is a waste of time, you hate that the school forces you to do it, you watch your slacker coworker hang a plain old wreath, and then you come up with this.”

  “I borrowed the idea. It wasn’t mine.”

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t like it.”

  “One of the kids wanted to rig up a battery-powered flashing red LED for the nose but didn’t get around to it.” Viv crossed her arms. “Because I reminded her to study.”

  “No, this is better.” An LED would’ve ruined it. It wouldn’t have been Viv. It would’ve made it seem like she cared about something other than the scientific rigor of her experiments. “Did you win the contest?”

  “You know I’m not competitive about anything but my work.”

  “Oh, please.” Viv was competitive about everything.

  “I’m not.”

  “I want a photo.”

  Kendra pulled out her phone and waved Viv into position in front of her door. Viv’s grumpy ass-kicking frown gave way to embarrassment, but she stood where Kendra wanted her, strenuously avoiding making eye contact. Kendra snapped the photo anyway. Then Viv looked up through her lashes, hands behind her back, and Kendra got a second shot, and wow, was it worth the wait, because sweet Jesus did Viv look hot when she mixed shy with defiant.

  “You’re not going to tell me Rudolph isn’t religion-neutral?”

  “Unlock your door, Viv, before I ravish you in the hallway in front of Rudolph.”

  Viv took her time opening the door before flipping on the lights and leading her inside. Kendra shut the door behind them. There didn’t seem to be a way to lock it from this side, but that was okay. It was late, the students were on break, and the cleaning crew had left for the night.

  “Wouldn’t want to scar innocent little Rudolph,” Viv said from behind her, close to her ear.

  Viv took her by the shoulders, mistletoe still clutched in one fist, and kissed the back of her neck. Kendra let her head drop forward. Her mind blanked for a moment. She lived for this: Viv’s closeness, her warm breath, the gentle press of her chest against her back.

  “Better?” Viv asked softly.

  “Much.” Kendra turned in her arms. “Don’t lose that mistletoe. I’m going to need you to hold it over your head now.”

  “Why? You going to kiss me?”

  Kendra kissed her cheek. “I’m going to convince you to let me ravish you on your desk.”

  Viv released her. “My desk? No.”

  They both turned and eyed the desk.

  “Why not?”

  “That wouldn’t…‌actually…‌work.” Viv paused. “Would it?”

  “Are you thinking about it?” No one would guess Viv would be the type, and usually Viv wasn’t, but Kendra knew she had it in her. “I’m thinking about it.”

  “But it’s so awkward.”

  “So convenient, you mean.” She could have Viv on her back and Kendra could kneel between her legs and…‌yeah. Her face felt a little warm just thinking about it. The hard linoleum floor would be hell on her knees, but it might be worth it.

  Viv’s desk, like everything in the building aside from the computers and the scientific equipment, was ancient. Under all her paperwork and her computer and her scattered pens and paperclips and office mug was good solid wood construction that could easily support the weight of two middle-aged women. But was it too tall? If she was on her knees, the desk surface would be, what, chest height? Shoulder height? And then with Viv lying on top of it, that would be even higher.

  Was she really doing this? Mentally measuring the desk’s height?

  “Convenient for work,” Viv said. “Not for…‌you know.”

  “Convenient for a multitude of purposes.”

  “Which do not include ravishing.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “It’s unhygienic,” Viv protested.

  Kendra laughed. They both knew that whatever they did here, it wasn’t going to go any further than a kiss. Maybe a little groping. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t consider this desk scenario.

  “I remember you dragging me into a public restroom more than once, Little Miss Unhygienic. And did I complain? No, I did not.” That had been years ago, but Viv hadn’t changed all that much. If she could make out with her in an endless row of muddy stalls at a football stadium, and in a ladies’ room in a hushed science museum where used paper towels overflowed the trash receptacle, and at an abandoned highway rest stop that smelled extremely questionable, she could do it here.

  “We were upright,” Viv said. “And we kept all our clothes on.”

  “So you are giving this some thought. Considering the mechanics?”

  “Enough to know it would be physically uncomfortable.”

  True. The back of Viv’s head on the desk would not be comfortable. Kendra’s knees on the floor with no rug and no pillow would not be comfortable. “Comfort’s not everything.”

  “Don’t forget inconvenient. It’s not your precisely positioned computer monitor that we’d have to move.”

  “I think your problem is, you don’t want me to sweep your papers off your desk.” Kendra lowered her forearm to the edge of the desk to demonstrate. She wasn’t going to actually do it, of course. Messing up Viv’s paperwork would be mean. Teasing her, however…

  “Kendra. Don’t. Don’t even think about it.” Viv dropped the mistletoe on the desk and slammed her hands on the two piles closest to Kendra’s arm, pinning them in place.

  Kendra raised her hands, palms out in surrender. “Babe. You know I wouldn’t.”

  “Sorry.” Viv raised her hands, too, mirroring her. “I know that.” She dropped her arms to her sides. “I’m not much of a romantic, am I?”

  “You do okay.”

  Viv straightened her paperwork. “How is an adult supposed to fit on an office desk, anyway? The short way is too short and the long way is…” She quirked her head to assess the desk’s length. “…also too short.”

  “I guess if we were high-powered executives we’d have bigger desks.”

  “We sho
uld measure.”

  A couple of minutes ago, I was thinking the same exact thing. Except that Viv’s idea of measuring was going to be a lot more work than Kendra’s. She just knew it. “We really don’t need to.”

  “I used to have a yardstick in here somewhere. Maybe it’s still here.”

  Yup. More work. More precise than eyeballing, which was all Kendra had needed. But that was Viv.

  “Babe. Your desk is safe from sex cooties. Okay? You don’t have to measure. No need to prove anything.”

  “But now I’m curious.”

  So adorable. So…‌intellectual. Not that Kendra wasn’t intellectual, too, but she knew when to turn it off.

  Viv opened a supply cabinet and pulled out a yardstick. Of course she did.

  “Ah, it’s metric.” Viv looked pleased. She laid her meterstick on the table and aligned it with the edge.

  “Really, Viv, this is—”

  “Romantic?”

  “Not really.”

  “You don’t find measurement romantic? What kind of scientist are you?”

  “The kind who doesn’t care whether that thing is in metric. Because we did not come to your office at almost midnight to measure your desk.”

  “You don’t care what units I’m using? I’m shocked. Because I suspect you’re the kind who’s very interested in the result.” Viv bent over her desk as she moved the meterstick to the other edge to continue measuring. She bent quite a bit more than necessary. She might have even wiggled her tail feathers.

  Wait. Viv was into this? She wasn’t mad anymore?

  “You know what kind of scientist I am?” Kendra said. “The kind who’s about to steal your mistletoe.”

  Viv lunged for the mistletoe, fumbling the meterstick and knocking it clattering to the floor in her haste, but Kendra got to the greenery first. She dangled it above Viv, straightening her arm and stretching as high as she could. Viv reached and tried to push it away so it wouldn’t be overhead, and their hands tangled together, fighting for dominance.

  “Afraid it’s going to drop germs on your head?” Kendra teased.

  “Afraid it’s going to give you ideas.”

  They were both about the same height, so the only way for Viv to have any chance of winning was for her to press as close to Kendra as possible. But Viv wasn’t plastered to her. Which was disappointing.