Sterling

Sterling Holt was freezing his ass off. Despite his thick jacket and scarf, his hands shook as he poured drinks behind the bar. Normally he wouldn't be wearing outerwear on the job—it was unprofessional—but it was so cold in here that he was making an exception.

If he wasn't here as a favour to a friend, he would've been long gone already. But he was, so...

He'd found himself in some little college town he'd already forgotten the name of, working at a dive bar called The Snowball's Chance. As he exhaled and saw his breath form a puffy white cloud in front of him, he thought it was an appropriate name—a snowball might actually have a chance of surviving in here.

"It sure is a cold today, huh?" said the patron, a younger professor who was apparently a regular here, who was waiting for the drink Sterling was making.

"Cold doesn't even begin to cover it," Sterling replied, shuddering as the chill slid down his back. He garnished the drink with a perfect curl of orange peel and pushed it toward them.

The regular took it and had a sip. Immediately their eyebrows raised, and a grin spread across their face. "Damn, that's good," they said as they pushed a bill across the counter. "Never thought I'd get a perfect Old Fashioned in a place like this. Keep the change."

Sterling smirked to himself as he took the bill. It was a large one, much more than the cost of the drink. Even with frozen fingers, he made a damn good cocktail. He opened the till, counted out the change, and deposited it in the big tip jar behind the counter. He rubbed his hands and blew on them in hopes of warming up those fingers of his. They served him well, and he'd like to keep them.

"Oh, come on," came a voice from behind. "It's not that cold."

Sterling turned, and there was Olly, leaning against the bar. He was all bundled up, dressed in a gaudy Christmas sweater, a fuzzy Santa hat pulled down low over his bleached-blonde hair, and—for some reason—leather pants.

"Cold?" Sterling echoed his friend's words with a laugh. "You're right, it's not cold—it's goddamn freezing."

Olly rolled his eyes. He was the owner of The Snowball's Chance and Sterling's friend. When Olly's previous bartender had quit unexpectedly just before the holiday rush, he'd been in a real bind and desperate to find a replacement. When he heard Sterling was going to be passing through the area, he called him up to help out.

And Sterling would never pass up a chance to help Olly—not after everything Olly had done for him. He owed him his life. So, here he was.

"It's not so bad," Olly said, sauntering past Sterling to pour himself a drink. "California just made you soft."

Sterling blew out a sharp breath. "Don't think so. I wasn't even there for long. I basically just drove through as I came North."

"Your tan says differently."

Sterling turned and brushed his dark hair out of his face, narrowing his even darker eyes at Olly. "I tan easily."

"Suuuuure."

"Whatever," Sterling muttered, turning forward again. He crossed his arms across his chest, pressing his hands to his body to keep them warm. "Just admit that you're too cheap to turn on the heat."

Olly scoffed. "You don't become the town's most beloved dive bar by having luxuries like heating."

"Just like I thought—cheap," Sterling grumbled. "If you don't turn on the damn heat, everyone in here is going to freeze to death, and then what will you do for patrons?" He motioned to the few people scattered throughout the bar. Most of them were bundled up, and a few had their coats on, too.

"That's the great thing about college towns," Olly grinned. "There will always be more."

Sterling rolled his eyes. "Well, I don't know about them but I'd rather not die in some blip on the map called, what was it, Whiner's Cove?"

"If it was, you'd fit right in," Olly said, pursing his lips as he sipped on a finger of straight whiskey. "And don't pretend like you don't know the name is Winter Grove, tough guy," before adding under their breath, "We're in between freakin' mountains, of course it's not a cove."

Sterling ignored his mutterings. "Who's gonna serve your drinks when I turn into a block of ice?"

"Why don't you do the ecological thing and put on a sweater?" Olly struck a pose then, modelling his horrific Christmas sweater like it was a piece of high fashion. When Sterling had arrived for the job, Olly had tried to convince him to put on a sweater, too—he had amassed quite the collection that he was a little too willing to share—but even owing Olly his life, Sterling had limits.

"If I have to choose between freezing and wearing one of your sweaters," Sterling shot back. "I'd prefer to freeze." And then something occurred to him. "Wait, did you turn off the heat to get me to wear one of your dumb sweaters?!"

Olly gasped and clutched his hand to his chest. "What? How could you accuse me of such a thing? Why I never!" But a devilish smile spread across his face.

Sterling narrowed his eyes. "It's not gonna happen."

"Oh come on! Where's your Christmas spirit?" Olly said as he did a little shimmy. His horrible festive sweater jingled.

"Exorcised," Sterling said. Christmas was definitely not his favourite time of year. Everyone else seemed to have this idealized vision of the season, full of glitter and cheer and happy memories, but he'd never found Christmas to be particularly cheerful. Quite the opposite, in fact. For him, the holidays had only ever held misery.

"Look, don't worry about it," Sterling continued, running his fingers through his dark hair to dislodge the unhappy memories that were beginning to creep in. "I'm not going to be here long enough to cramp your Christmas style. I'm just gonna repay that favor, make a few bucks, and then I'll be on my way. I'll be gone before Christmas."

"You know," Olly said, pulling back their Santa hat to smooth their slicked-back hair. For a moment, their cheeky facade slipped, and his silver eyes turned serious. "You could stay for Christmas. I'd love to have you. I haven't seen you in so long, not since—"

Sterling just shook his head. Olly let it go. He knew there was no point in arguing. Few people understood why he'd rather work than celebrate the holidays. Olly was one of them, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't try.

"Don't worry about me," Sterling said as he caught the fretful look on Olly's face. "I'll just find something to distract myself. Christmas just isn't my thing...."

"Maybe spending a couple of weeks in Winter Grove will change that," Olly said.

Sterling wanted to groan. Of course, it was just his luck that he'd ended up working in the most Christmas-y town during his least favourite time of year. Winter Grove could've been a nice place if it weren't for all the tacky glittering lights and constant droning of Christmas music.

Even Olly's grimy little bar was decked out for the season. Long lines of big multi-coloured lights were strung across the ceiling, their garish colours somehow complimenting the neon beer signs that covered the walls; candy-coloured trees in pink, orange and red were pushed into every free corner; and glittery, plastic mistletoe tacked underneath every available door—it was even in the corridor that led to the bathrooms. It was as if a Day-Glo rainbow had chewed up Christmas and barfed it out right inside The Snowball's Chance.

And now Sterling had to work in it.

It was going to be a long couple of weeks...

He really, really could use a distraction.

Across the bar, there was a shattering crash. Olly and Sterling looked over. The sound had come from a table of kids from the nearby college. One of the girls had dropped her glass, splashing her bright green drink down the front of her pale blue sweater and fuzzy white vest.

"They're starting to get a bit sloppy," Sterling said to Olly as he picked up a couple of dishrags. "We should probably cut them off." The group had been here since the afternoon, celebrating the end of classes with a drink or two, or three, or... Well, it appeared they were all quite drunk now.

"I think that's a good call," Olly said, his expression turning serious as he eyed the rambunctious group. "Let them know it's time to go home, won't you?"

"Will do." Sterling threw the dishrags over his shoulder and headed over.

At the table, the girls were trying to sop up the mess with flimsy paper napkins while the one who was splattered with green slush babbled apologies.

"Hi there," he said as he came up beside them. He kept his voice low because, with his height and neck tattoos, he knew he could be a little intimidating at first. "Do you need some help?"

"I'm sorry!" the green-splattered girl cried. "It just s-slipped out of my hand and went everywhere."

Up close, Sterling saw that the girl wasn't just drunk—she was wasted. Extremely wasted. Her makeup was smeared, and her glossy black bun was starting to come loose, with more than a few strands falling loose and hanging in her face.

"Don't be sorry," Sterling said, bending over the table to start cleaning up the mess. "It happens to the best of us. I'll get it cleaned right up."

As Sterling began using one of the dishrags to collect the shards of glass—thankfully, it had been a clean break, and there weren't too many pieces.

He put the glass aside and began to use the other rag to wipe up the slurry of green, melon-flavoured alcohol. The drink had been a Grinch, one of The Snowball's holiday specials—heavy on the booze.

"Thank—hic—you," the green-splattered girl hiccuped, watching him swipe the rag across the table in front of her.

"No problem," Sterling said, finishing up. He looked to the rest of the table—just two other girls, though it looked like there had been more people here at one time. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to settle your bills...."

Her friend, a girl with perfectly bleached hair and dressed in all pink, turned to Sterling. She was tipsy but was definitely holding her alcohol better than her friend. "Totally understandable," she said. "We're so sorry for the mess."

"Don't worry," the other said, her thick braids swinging as she swayed in her seat. "We're getting her out of here ASAP."

The bleached blonde made a face and rolled her eyes. "As soon as we get a ride," her friend corrected. She pouted at Sterling. "The guys we were with were supposed to be our ride..."

"...But they totally ditched us," the swaying one said. "So rude."

"Why don't I call you a cab?" Olly called, leaning over the bar. There was no ride-hailing apps in Winter Grove. Olly had a direct line to the only cab company in town—really just a two-brother operation—and could call them quickly. "I can get one here in five minutes."

"Oh my god, yes, please!" the swaying one said. She got up and staggered over to the bar to get the details.

The bleached blonde was now trying to get the green-splattered one to stand. She wasn't stable on her feet, and Sterling had to help steady her.

"Oh no! My coat!" she cried to her friend.

"What about it?" the blonde asked.

"I left my coat in Logan's car!" the other girl cried. "What am I going to do?"

"I-I don't know," the bleached blonde muttered under her breath, glancing out the bar's windows. The small, dainty snowflakes that had been falling before had since transformed into thick fluffs, and it was coming down much faster. "Even with a cab, it's still a bit of a walk back to the dorms...."

"I'm going to freeze!" the other one moaned, sagging back down to the chair. "I'm gonna freeze to death... right before Christmas!" She was apparently a dramatic drunk.

"You're not going to freeze, we'll figure something out—"

Before Sterling realized what he was doing, he was unzipping his coat. He shrugged it off and offered it to the green-splattered girl.

"Here," he said.

"What?" the girl said with a gasp. "A-Are you sure?"

"Yes. I can't let you go out in the cold as you are," Sterling said. "Not in this weather."

"Thank you," the girl said, pulling it on. It was comically large on her small frame, but at least it would keep her warm. "I'll bring it back, I-I swear."

"Don't worry about it," Sterling said. "Just worry about getting home safe."

"Cab's here!" Olly called.

And it was—Sterling could see the cab's lit-up top through the bar's windows.

"Alright, honey, let's go," the bleached blonde said, grabbing her friend and hauling her to her feet again. The other one had finished with the bills and ran over to help, and together they dragged her out of the bar. The green-splattered girl just had enough time to wave goodbye before they disappeared through the doors and out into the snowy night.

The door let in a rush of cold air as it swung closed, and another shiver shook through Sterling. Without his jacket, he was colder than ever. He turned to Olly, who was now leaning across the bar, staring him down.

"So," Olly said as a grin spread across their face. "About that sweater...."

🎄

Do you wear ugly Christmas sweaters?