Page 2 of The Christmas Mistake

I know where this conversation is going, and I certainly don’t want to be dragged into the inebriated crowd against my will. Especially not by Chastity Wilde.

Chastity laughs mockingly at me and elbowed me hard in the ribs.

“Oh, Mister Serious, it’s a bit of fun. Get involved, I’m sure you know the words. You in that dress, my thoughts I confess, verge on dirty, come on Eileen.”

Great, now Chastity’s started singing that awful song, and she’s doing it so loud and so close to my face that I’m actually pretty worried I’ll pop an eardrum. She stares at me like there is an actual chance I’m about to join in with her.

I’m definitely not going to.

You can understand why I dislike her, no?

In my few weeks of working at the company, I have come to understand quite quickly that Chastity Wilde and I are complete opposites. The most introverted and the extrovert people in the office. The serious guy who likes to put his head down and get on with his work and the bubbly girl who can’t stop chatting away about absolutely nothing at the water cooler. I work in the finance department and she’s in social media. Worlds apart in what we do. I don’t think I’ve seen her at her actual desk for more than ten minutes the entire time I’ve worked at the company, but I guess managing the company’s social media accounts isn’t exactly back-breaking work even at the worst of times. She’s always off blabbering about something completely inane. I don’t understand why she hasn’t been fired yet for gross negligence of her job. I bet the bosses think she was – dare I say it - fun. She’s that type of person that people just love to have around.

I certainly am not fun. I’m not someone people like to have around. I am, as Chastity said, Mister Serious.

I remember the first day Chastity and I spoke. It was only my second day at the company, and even then, I knew she was someone with who I wasn’t going to be friends.

“Hey, new guy,” she called over at me from across the office without any warning. “What’s your name?”

I looked up from my desk, startled by someone being so brazen in yelling at me. I locked eyes with this crazy woman marching towards me, demanding an answer like she was owed one. Inside, I freaked out. Social interaction is not – and has never been - my thing, especially small talk.

“I’m Nicholas,” I stuttered at the mad lady. “What’s yours?”

“Chastity.”

Her answer made me laugh. I didn’t mean to, but her name is so unusual that I didn’t expect it to come from her mouth.

“Is there something funny?” she asked me. By this point, she had made it to my desk and had boldly – and without my permission - sat on it, facing me.

I just wanted to get back to my work. I didn’t want to talk to her. It felt like she was forcing me to interact, and my little introverted self didn’t like that at all.

“No, nothing’s funny.”

“You think my name is funny?”

“Just unusual.”

“Good,” she replied. “If you find it funny then we would have problems. I can deal with unusual. So, tell me, how long have you worked here, new boy?”

“Me? This is my second day.”

“Good. I’ll be seeing you around, then.”

It sounded like a threat. I had no answer for her. She strolled away soon after, leaving papers scattered by her firm petit ass on my desk.

That was the first time Chastity and I have spoken. It was also the last time. Until tonight. Until she started singing Come On Eileen right in my ear.

“Stop singing,” I tell her sternly, back at the Christmas party.

Chastity blinks at me, not hearing a word I was saying under the noise of fifty drunk office workers.

“What?”

“Stop singing in my face.”

She laughs mockingly at me again. I frown in response.

“Lighten up, Mister Serious. This is all just a bit of fun.”