Jaime was not getting his picture taken. He could put up with the rest – the baubles, the tacky tree, the never-ending smiling, and the general Christmas cheese. Wasn't that enough? His mother never made him do this kind of crap, and this would admittedly be the first time in over a decade that he'd had to buy someone a present for the twenty-fifth of December.
There was no way he would allow a photo floating around of himself looking like this.
"Ay, Jaime, you look like such a loser!" he could hear his sister cackling, their aunt biting her lip to keep a burst of giggles contained.
As for his friends – well, the flush on his cheeks proved that he didn't even want to think about what they'd say.
But the smile on that face, as cheesy as it sounded, when he (finally) left his bedroom made his insides turn into something pretty similar to the drinks in Bart's hands. His big grin held not a single dash of smugness, only warm adoration, and once he pried his gaze away from the