There was no snow, not even a chill in the air.

It was summer camp; what did you expect?

Dylan never quite understood why Mr. H was so adamant about throwing the campers a Christmas party, the counselors having to decorate the entire campground with plastic decorations that could never survive actual winter.

But maybe he was biased and bitter, after all, Dylan didn’t like Christmas.

He wasn’t a grinch but he wasn’t some jolly fat man in a suit either, just a lonely college student in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of kids.

The only one who seemed actually excited for the night was you, the Christmas fiend.

It was comical watching you dance to the festive music and decorate the mess hall with garlands and jingle bells.

Dylan wished he could be more like you; happy and cheerful instead of just moping around.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he mumbles, half to himself but also to you as he holds the ladder you were standing on.

You had insisted on placing the star on top of the Christmas tree.

“Do what?” You question back, standing on your tiptoes to reach the top of the tree.

He watched you carefully, his hand hovering over the small of your back to make sure you didn’t fall backwards and hurt yourself.

“Be all…joyous,” he finishes with a fake gagging sound, staring up at you as if your face had the answer. “You know it’s not actually Christmas, right?”