It seemed like a good idea at the time; we would be all coupley in front of her family, she could reach the tree, and it was an excuse to have her near me. It seemed smart…until it wasn’t. Shortly after I stood with her on my shoulders, my brain wrapped around the fact that her legs, her thighs, her perfect backside were sitting right on top of me. Suddenly, all the blood left my head to go…other places.

No, no, no, I thought, willing myself to calm down. Not when her dad is six feet away from you.

“Can you get a little closer?” She tapped my abs with her tiny heel, and I inwardly groaned. I took a step closer to the tree and she leaned forward, her soft sweater rubbing against the back of my neck and her sweet, floral scent encircling my nose. I felt like I was floating, and I desperately needed a distraction.

Snails. The voice of the coach on Water Boy. Grandmas. Dead grandmas.

By the time I got myself under control, Olive had already put the star on the tree. Thank God, I thought as I started to kneel so she could get her annoyingly perfect body off of me. Then I heard, “Wait! Let me get a picture.”

I cussed under my breath and faked a smile as Olive’s groan reverberated against my skull. Maybe she was as miserable as I was being this close. But for her, I’m sure it was disinterest; for me it was complete desire.

“Say cheese!”

Olive’s mom held a phone up to take our picture, but paused, her brow creasing. “Oh, wait. How do I get it off me?” She pulled out her reading glasses and everyone in Colorado groaned. “Tom! Come fix this, honey!”

She pulled the phone away from her face to see it better and thankfully, Matt stepped in before she could take any longer.

“I’ll get it, Mom,” he said, grabbing the phone and snapping a few pictures.

I smiled like I didn’t have an entire rave happening in my pants. It would be a miracle if I made it through this night. When Matt finished, Olive tapped my shoulder, signaling me to put her down. I crouched and grabbed her soft hands to steady her as she climbed off.

She whispered a shy “thank you” to me, a blush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck.

“You don’t have to thank me, Grinchy. I’ll gladly lift you up anytime.” I winked, and the blush deepened, stroking my ego a bit.

I checked the time and realized how late it had gotten. I wanted to stay, but I had to be up early to get ready for another day of lessons.

The rest of Olive’s family made their way to the kitchen where her mom was cutting and serving pie, but I grabbed Olive’s hand, holding her back.