I stare at him, a slow grin unfurling. “A secret admirer, huh?”

He blushes. “Yeah, but I mean. I’ve never.” Turns away. “I’ve never had real feelings for anyone before, but I’d love to experience it.”

“You’ve never had a crush? No warm, jittery, googly-eyed Hall with cancan dancers in his nervous system?”

“Nope. Never had the opportunity. I was too preoccupied with doing my job, and it would’ve been fruitless, anyway, since I couldn’t interact with others.”

“Well, if you do get the chance to develop a crush, good luck to you. They’re a pain.”

He considers this. “I hope I do, pain or not. And, I can’t help but notice how pretty you are. So. If I do develop a crush, you might be the first to find out.”

It takes a lot to surprise me. But I gasp. My cheeks actually heat up. A little sunbeam sprouts from my heart and glitters between my fingers as I point to myself. “You think I’m pretty?”

The oddest sensation slides through me, with tiny cold spots blooming all over. It’s like I’m being haunted in the pressure points of my arms, my legs. Simultaneously, my conscience, which isn’t as much like Jiminy Cricket as it is like Scar from The Lion King, sits forward and raises an intrigued eyebrow. Why does this piece of news make Hall ten times cuter? Hearing that he thinks I’m pretty has moved him up in the rankings of Wholesome Men I Would Like to Corrupt, kicking Keanu Reeves out of his long-held spot at the top.

He dips his head in a slow, solemn nod. “Objectively.”

Objectively. It takes some of the wind out of my sails. (But only some. He keeps a breeze wafting at me at all times so that my hair can ruffle majestically.)

He straightens, and I wonder when he changed his clothes—now he’s in pajamas—to such a shiny silver that I can make out the dark outline of my reflection in them. He’s so close that the splash of freckles across the bridge of his nose, wandering up his cheekbones, stands out in sharp relief. Then I notice something else: a thin band of brown around his left pupil, but not the right. Heterochromia. I could’ve sworn it wasn’t like that yesterday.

“I’m a force of merriment and cheer,” he says at length. “A feeling. Specifically for the long, cold, dark parts of the year. My purpose is to be a light. People need extra hope in the winter.”

“True.”

“I’m more of a winter entity than a holiday entity, if you want to get into it, but I came to be known as the Holiday Spirit since so many holidays happen to be clumped together at this time of year. I don’t mind. Most of these celebrations are about joy and togetherness, which are my favorites. I suppose I could’ve evolved into one of the less-Christmassy holiday spirits, like National Pancake Day or National Hug Your Cat Day, but winter-specific fun is my favorite.”