Chapter Eleven: Something Unexpected

BuyMore had quiet days, and then it had weirdly quiet days—the kind of eerie calm that made employees suspicious, like they were standing in the eye of a retail hurricane. Tuesday was shaping up to be one of those days.

The post-Black Friday haze had settled. The aisles were mostly in order. No one had screamed about a coupon yet. And the overhead music was playing an actually decent cover of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”

Callie didn’t trust it.

“Something’s coming,” she muttered, eyeing the front registers like they might spontaneously combust.

“Can you not jinx the day?” Eli said, walking beside her with a half-loaded cart of markdown candles. “I just got to the part of my shift where I stop hating everyone.”

“You mean me?”

He grinned. “You’re the exception.”

She snorted. “Flattery doesn’t get you out of candle duty.”

“But my charm might.”

“Still no.”

They were assigned to prep aisle fourteen—seasonal overflow, otherwise known as the Bermuda Triangle of BuyMore. Half-assembled displays, mystery boxes, and a suspicious number of glitter spills always lived there.

Callie had been organizing the artificial tree section when Eli emerged from the stockroom carrying two oversized snowman plushies, one under each arm like they were part of a personal rescue mission.

“They were suffocating under a pile of defective wreaths,” he said.

“You’re assigning emotional trauma to holiday décor again.”

“They have faces, Callie.”

She shook her head but couldn’t stop the smile. “Put them next to the animatronic reindeer and help me with this pallet.”

Eli obeyed, dropping the snowmen gently—dramatically—and moving to help her unpack a crate of pre-boxed ornaments.

“You ever think about getting a real tree?” he asked, untangling a ribbon.

“Too messy. Too temporary.”

“That’s kind of the point, though. It’s a moment.”

Callie gave him a look. “Are you about to pitch a Hallmark movie plot?”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen things. Felt things.”

“Gross.”

But her voice was softer than usual.

They were halfway through assembling a cardboard fireplace display when it happened.

Eli climbed onto the step ladder to reach the top shelf. Callie handed him a sign to clip into place. He leaned slightly too far, trying to avoid knocking over a precarious stack of elf figurines, and—

Snap.

The top rung gave out.

“Whoa!”

Callie instinctively lunged.

He didn’t fall far—just enough to miss his footing and land with an undignified thud, catching himself on a half-full box of snow globes.

She caught his arm mid-slip and yanked hard enough to steady him.

They froze—awkwardly tangled, breathing hard.

“You okay?” she asked, gripping his wrist.

“Yeah,” he said, staring at her. “Yeah, I think so.”

She didn’t let go immediately.

Neither of them moved.

Their faces were close—closer than they’d ever been.

Eli’s heart was beating faster than he wanted to admit. Not from the fall.

From her.

Callie noticed it, too.

That silent moment stretched, weighted and fragile.

Then, she blinked and stepped back like the spell had been broken.

“You idiot,” she muttered. “You could’ve cracked your head open.”

“You caught me,” he said, breathless.

“I wasn’t going to mop up your brain in aisle fourteen.”

“Still. Good reflexes.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

But her voice wavered—just slightly.

They went back to unpacking, but the air between them had shifted.

Callie didn’t meet his eyes as much. Eli kept fumbling things he usually handled easily. Her fingers brushed his when they both reached for the same ornament box, and she flinched like she’d touched a hot pan.

It wasn’t nothing.

It was very much something.

And Eli wasn’t good at pretending he didn’t notice.

So, when their lunch break rolled around, he followed her into the breakroom and closed the door behind them.

Callie raised an eyebrow. “You locking me in?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s a terrible plan.”

He crossed his arms. “We need to talk.”

Her eyes narrowed. “About?”

“About whatever just happened out there.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Come on.”

She looked away.

He took a step closer.

“I felt it,” he said quietly. “And I think you did too.”

Callie exhaled like he’d cracked a door she’d worked very hard to keep sealed.

“You’re my coworker,” she said.

“And?”

“And I don’t do messy.”

“Neither do I. But we’re already kind of in it, aren’t we?”

She sat down at the table, arms folded tightly.

“You don’t get it, Eli. This job? It’s barely holding my life together. I come here, I work, I survive. I don’t do distractions.”

He didn’t speak, just listened.

“I like things predictable,” she continued. “Control keeps me sane. And you—” She glanced at him, frustrated. “You’re not predictable.”

“I’m not here to throw your life off balance.”

“I don’t have balance.”

He let that hang for a beat. Then sat across from her.

“I’m not trying to rush anything, Callie. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel something every time I’m around you.”

She didn’t answer.

“I like working next to you. I like how you boss everyone around but secretly care more than anyone else. I like how you drink terrible coffee and talk to batteries when no one’s looking.”

Callie’s mouth twitched. “That happened once.”

“You make this job better. You make me better.”

Silence again.

Eli leaned forward.

“I’m not asking for anything dramatic. I just want you to know. That if something’s starting here—something real—I’m not afraid of it.”

Callie stared at him.

And then, quietly, said the last thing he expected:

“I am.”

The breakroom stayed quiet for a full minute.

Callie ran a hand through her hair, pulled into a loose knot.

“You have no idea how much I want to let myself... feel something,” she said. “But I’ve made too many stupid choices trying to chase that. I’m not ready to fall for someone who might just leave when things get hard.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You say that now.”

Eli’s voice softened. “Then let me prove it.”

She looked at him again, and this time—she didn’t look away.

Back on the floor, nothing outwardly changed.

They unloaded a new shipment of light-up Santa hats. Callie complained about how the batteries were already dying. Eli suggested they start a support group for defective elves. The banter returned—but underneath it, something deeper had clicked into place.

She still called him annoying.

He still called her terrifying.

But now there was a layer of truth beneath the sarcasm.

A feeling they couldn’t pretend didn’t exist.

Later that day, Brenda spotted them near the holiday checkout lane and whispered dramatically to Marcus, “They’re totally in a will-they-won’t-they arc.”

Marcus didn’t look up from his inventory sheet. “I give it a week.”

But Callie and Eli didn’t notice.

They were elbow-deep in a box of candy canes, arguing over whether peppermint was a scam flavor.

And for the first time since BuyMore’s fluorescent lights had flickered to life that morning, they were both smiling.

Really smiling.

Not because things were easy.

But because things were real.

And maybe—just maybe—that was worth the mess.