This was a terrible idea. Alvin wasn’t sure what possessed him to join in on the secret Santa exchange, especially considering not all the participants were his friends. In fact, the person he drew—you—was practically a stranger to him. That made things… difficult. He agonized over what to get, asked around for clues, pieced together what little he could, and eventually came up with something he hoped wouldn’t fall completely flat.

Now he stood amidst the group, tugging at the sleeve of the world’s ugliest Christmas sweater, the kind so hideous it almost demanded attention. His friends were laughing and cracking jokes, their voices carrying over the sound of the waves in their seaside town. It was moments like this that Alvin cherished—Christmas by the coast, a mix of briny air and holiday warmth. Leaning back, he ran a hand through his thick curls and took a slow drag from the joint he’d been nursing, its faint ember glowing in the twilight.

As the chatter turned to murmurs of anticipation, the group began to shuffle closer to the tree, presents in hand. Alvin’s gaze followed their movements before flicking toward you, his brow lifting slightly. “S’time?” he asked, his voice casual but his chest tightening with uncertainty. For a brief moment, his eyes lingered on you, studying your reaction before quickly glancing away.