

Make the Yuletide Gay

A holiday themed anthology with contributions by:

Nicky Spencer, Stephen Hoppa, Addison Albright, Nell Iris, Amy Tasukada

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_A Christmas Party to Remember_ – Copyright 2017 Nicky Spencer

_Let's Not Go Crazy_ – Copyright 2017 Stephen Hoppa

_Captain Jack and the Snack Attack_ – Copyright 2107 Addison Albright

_The Christmas Day Date_ – Copyright 2017 Nell Iris

_The Year of the Monkey_ – Copyright 2017 Amy Tasukada

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Smashwords Edition

Cover image used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

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Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the authors, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author's imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

WARNING: This book is for adult audiences only. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

Published in the United States of America.
Table of Contents

A Christmas Party to Remember by Nicky Spencer

Let's Not Go Crazy by Stephen Hoppa

Captain Jack and the Snack Attack by Addison Albright

The Christmas Day Date by Nell Iris

The Year of the Monkey by Amy Tasukada

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About Make the Yuletide Gay

Sleigh bells ring—are you listening?

It's that time of year again, and we have the perfect way to get you in the mood: A free anthology! Five holiday stories that are guaranteed to warm your heart, heat up your cold nights, and most importantly: Make your yuletide gay.

A Christmas Party to Remember by Nicky Spencer

Last Christmas, Cory and Wes made a connection that left them both thanking Santa. But when Cory doesn't show up for their first date, Wes swears he won't make that mistake again. This year, can Santa's magic find a way to bring them back together?

Let's Not Go Crazy by Stephen Hoppa

The holidays are stressful enough without Ethan's boyfriend Nate trying to kill him with Christmas cheer. But Nate's found a whole new way to torture Ethan when he reveals that he wants kids. Will their conflicting desires tear their relationship apart, or will they find a way to ring in the new year stronger than ever?

Captain Jack and the Snack Attack by Addison Albright

Two men determined to win the same treasure at a charity silent auction, a wayward kitten, grumbling tummies, and a dilemma: what's the correct gift-giving etiquette for a first date that's mere days before Christmas, and what could possibly go awry with this merry combination?

The Christmas Day Date by Nell Iris

One rainbow Christmas tree in harm's way and an afternoon spent eating far too many cookies, equals two men with changed holiday plans. But how does that translate into a date?

The Year of the Monkey by Amy Tasukada

The last thing Aoi wants to do for New Year's is spend it with his boyfriend's parents. They were far from thrilled when their son came out. Can Aoi warm their hearts making traditional mochi or will they end up in an even stickier situation?

### A Christmas Party to Remember

By Nicky Spencer

About the Story

Last Christmas, Cory and Wes made a connection that left them both thanking Santa. But when Cory doesn't show up for their first date, Wes swears he won't make that mistake again. This year, can Santa's magic find a way to bring them back together?

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A Christmas Party to Remember
Part One - Last Christmas

Wes

"I'm here! I'm here! I'm not late, I'm here!"

I pushed my way through a group of bemused and grumbling tourists, headed toward the back of the hotel lobby where my best friend, and date for the evening, waited.

"About time," said Georgia. "The party's on the second floor. Come on." I followed her into a sleek elevator.

"How do I look?" Georgia asked.

"Stunning." It was the truth. She took off her coat as soon as we slipped through the doors. She wore a sparkly black dress with a fitted skirt and a looser top sewn with silver sequins, her dark auburn curls loose around her shoulders. She'd topped it all off with an epic shade of red lipstick that said just because she was showing up to the party with her gay BFF, didn't mean she was going home with him.

Georgia leaned in to check her teeth in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

"You look perfect," I told her. "Relax."

"Ha. Easy for you to say." She and her boyfriend Evan had broken up just weeks before. They'd been working for the same accounting firm since before they started dating, and while she was able to mostly avoid him at work since they were in different departments, she knew she'd have to see him at the office Christmas party. She had begged me to be her plus one; she couldn't bear the thought of facing him alone.

Georgia turned around so she could see her ass in the mirror, and I fidgeted with my Christmas tie. It was my favorite; some cheap Target special that I'd picked up a few years before with cartoon reindeer all over it. Cheesy as hell but I looked forward to wearing it every year.

When we reached the second floor, we exited into a winter wonderland. The small entryway between the elevator and the conference room that her firm had rented for the evening was bordered by leafless trees that had been spray painted white and decorated with twinkle lights. Huge glittery snowflakes hung from the ceiling. All the tables were covered in blue tulle and the walkway had been littered with shimmering blue and white confetti.

"There's the open bar," Georgia said. She hadn't stopped talking about it since she'd invited me, and as soon as we stepped through the door she made a bee-line. I smiled to myself and followed her. I could use a drink, too.

Georgia was already in deep flirt-mode by the time I reached her. The bartender was young—I wouldn't peg him at a day over twenty-five—and apparently exactly what thirty-eight-year-old Georgia needed to take her mind off of Evan. She tossed her hair and laughed loudly at something the younger man said. I sidled in next to her, placing my hand on her back.

"Scotch on the rocks, please," I said.

"Wes!" Georgia exclaimed. "This is Sam. Sam has promised to keep me well-stocked tonight. Right Sam?"

The dark-haired young man smiled. "That's right, Georgia. If you say you're over twenty-one, I'll believe you." He acted like he _didn't_ believe her, and Georgia laughed again, reaching out to touch his arm.

"Wes, can I keep him?"

"I don't know. Has he been treated for fleas?" I accepted my drink from Sam with a nod. He winked in return.

Georgia pushed playfully at my shoulder. "Stop."

"I'm gonna go find a table." I kissed Georgia's cheek and left her to flirt with Sam, making my way to an empty table near the back wall where I could keep an eye on her. She finished her cocktail, and one more, before stumbling over to me.

"Sam is cute," she declared.

"Very."

"And young."

"Yes."

I thought she was about to add something else, but then she froze.

"There's Evan," she said.

I followed her eyes to see the man in question standing in the entryway to the banquet room, a barely legal blonde with a plunging neckline on his arm.

"And his rather buxom young date," I murmured.

"I need another drink." Georgia moved to signal Sam for a re-fill, but I put my hand on her arm and pushed it down.

"You've had two in less than ten minutes. Let's pace ourselves, shall we?"

Georgia scowled at me and reached for my Scotch. I pushed my chair back with my legs, holding the drink in the air where she couldn't reach. Unfortunately I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, because I ended up pushing my chair into, and spilling my drink all over, someone who had been walking behind me.

I jumped out of my chair, spinning around to apologize to the man I'd inadvertently Scotch-bombed, who was looking down at his wet shirt.

"Shit, I'm so sorry! I'm such an id..."

The words died out when he raised his head, and I found myself looking up into the eyes of one of the most handsome men I'd ever seen. He was tall and slim, with artfully styled thick blond hair and matching stubble. He wore slim-fitting black slacks and a tight black t-shirt with the words _At Your Service_ scrawled across the front. The shirt was drenched.

I tried to swallow but my mouth was dry. "Uh...s-sorry," I stammered. It was my latent social anxiety rearing its ugly head; I could handle anonymous transactions with grocery store clerks and fast food workers, but put me in front of an attractive man and all capacity for speech disappeared.

"S'alright, mate," he said, green eyes glittering as he smiled at me. "I can be pretty clumsy sometimes."

Oh my god, he had an _accent?_ Was he trying to kill me?

"You're not..." I began, then dry-swallowed again. "It was me. Fault. My fault." Epic speech fail.

The guy wiped his hands on his pants—apparently they'd gotten wet as well—and said, "Lucky I have a spare shirt in the back. I better go change, but can I bring you a fresh drink? What were you drinking?"

I stared at him. My mouth wouldn't work.

"He was drinking Scotch. On the rocks," Georgia interjected.

The hot blond Australian winked. "One Scotch on the rocks, coming up." And then he was gone.

I looked at Georgia, my face aflame.

"What just happened?" I asked.

"You just had the most adorable meet-cute ever," she replied with a huge grin.

"Hmm?"

She laughed. "He was hot. Are you gonna go for it?"

Go for it? The guy was completely out of my league. Besides, it had been ages since I'd last attempted anything resembling romance. I was seriously out of practice, and transitioning into "charm" mode took a lot of work. I had to build up to something like that, it didn't just happen.

I shook my head vigorously.

"Oh come on, Wes! He's so cute, and he obviously liked you. When was the last time you went out with a guy?"

"We had a way better president, I'll just say that."

Georgia smiled. "He's into you. And he's coming back with a drink. Just flirt with him a little, see what happens, okay?"

"Easy for you to say," I muttered. At least when he came back he'd be bearing Scotch; I was going to need it.

But he didn't come back. A few minutes later, a young girl in a matching black t-shirt brought me a fresh Scotch, and about a minute after that the party was officially underway. Dinner was served, and the CEO of Georgia's company stood in front of the room and gave a speech. I kept looking around the room for Hot Australian but he was nowhere to be found. I didn't know if I was relieved or disappointed.

Georgia had stuck to water throughout dinner, but the moment dinner ended and the DJ started spinning top 40 Christmas tunes, she headed straight back to the bar. I'd hoped to keep her somewhat sober for the rest of the night but clearly I had failed. I slumped in defeat.

"What happened to your date?"

The Australian accent was like liquid velvet over my skin. I shivered a little, and turned to look at him.

He had changed his shirt; he now wore a white button up, the collar open and the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He stood with his arms folded, and I was distracted by the golden hair dusting over his well-muscled forearms.

"What?" I asked.

"That redhead you were with. Where'd she go?"

Disappointment twinged in my chest. Of course he was straight. And of course he was interested in Georgia.

"Sh-she went over to the bar," I said to my hands. "There was a hot young bartender she had eyes for, but you might be able to catch her before that goes too far."

"So you guys _aren't_ together?"

"Not like that, no. We're just friends. And she's very single, you should go for it."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that you're just friends, but she's not the one I'm interested in."

I looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

He laughed. "Am I really that rusty? I'm trying to hit on you."

I blinked. "Oh."

"Let's start over. Do you mind?" He angled his head at the chair next to me and I shook my head. As I tried to catch my breath, he pulled it out and sat down.

"I'm Cory," he said, holding his hand out.

I took it slowly and shook it, not quite sure what was happening.

"N-nice to meet you, Cory. I'm Wes."

"Wes," he repeated, nodding. "Lovely to meet you."

Was I having an out-of-body experience? The moment was surreal. Things like this didn't happen to me. How was I supposed to handle it? What should I say?

"So...you're hitting on me?" I asked. _Oh god, anything but that!_

Cory laughed again. I was starting to really like that sound.

"Truth is I was hoping you and the redhead weren't together. You were pinging my gaydar like crazy; am I off the mark?"

I shook my head, stunned by how forward he was. I could never in a million years start a conversation with a stranger like that, let alone flat out ask if they were gay. "No, you're not off the mark. I am. Gay, that is."

"Me too," Cory replied, flashing a gorgeous set of dimples at me.

I glanced back at Georgia, who was still draped over the bar flirting with Sam, then I looked back at Cory.

"Sorry I ruined your shirt."

"S'okay. I have dozens. Perks of being the boss."

"The boss?"

"Yeah, you're looking at the co-owner and head chef of _At Your Service_ , the hottest catering company in the city. At least according to my mum." Those dimples again.

"Wow," I said, genuinely impressed. "The food was amazing."

"Thank you. I cook everything myself. Well, I do have a little help. But it's all my own recipes and creations."

"You're very talented."

"Thank you," he said again, and then we just sat there, smiling at each other like a couple of idiots.

I glanced back at the bar again to find that Georgia wasn't there anymore, and a young woman with blue hair was behind it serving drinks. I looked around the room, and finally found Georgia on the dancefloor with Sam. She seemed to be having a fabulous time, and Sam smiled at her like he was genuinely happy to be there. I figured she was in good hands, so I returned my attention to the cute caterer in front of me. Taylor Swift's version of _Last Christmas_ poured through the speakers.

"I love T-Swift, but nothing will ever beat the original," said Cory.

"I've always been a huge George Michael fan."

Cory grinned at me. "Me too."

I grinned back.

"Can I ask you something, Wes?"

I almost laughed; he certainly hadn't requested permission earlier. But instead I said, "Sure."

"Are you single?"

My heart thumped as I nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Would you like to dance with me?"

Oh god. He wanted to dance? I would step all over his feet. And I probably had armpit stains on my shirt.

"Don't you have to work?"

"My part of the evening is pretty much done. My employees will take care of the clean-up. All I have to do now is enjoy the night."

His words were seductive, snaking under my skin and wrapping around my spine. I wondered what he had in mind. Part of me was terrified of making a fool of myself, but a bigger part of me wanted to find out.

"Then let's dance," I said, the words leaving my mouth as though someone else had taken control of my body.

Cory stood and took my hand, leading me out onto the floor. It wasn't exactly a slow song, but I didn't object when he put his hands on my waist. I rested my own on his shoulders and followed his lead.

"So tell me about the catering business," I said after a few beats. That was a thing I'd learned over the years; when you were getting to know someone, you should ask them questions about themselves.

"Not much to tell. People need food, I cook it."

"That simple, huh?"

"Well, no. It's hard work, crazy hours and a lot of dealing with very rude and unreasonable people, but I get to be my own boss, and I get to cook for a living, so it's worth it."

"I know how you feel. I'm a freelance graphic artist. Setting my own hours is the best part of my job." I noticed that I had stopped stuttering, and a knot loosened in my upper back. Maybe I wasn't too terrible at this. Maybe I could do it.

Cory's smile fried a few neural pathways in my brain. We continued to move with the music, our eyes locked. I had just met this man mere moments ago, but I couldn't remember having such a strong physical reaction to anyone in a long time. My stomach churned—he gave me all the butterflies. All the heart pounding, clammy hands, shaky breath butterflies. I could happily lose myself in him for months.

I cleared my throat. Pheromones; it had to be pheromones. No such thing as love at first sight.

"So what's a single freelance graphic artist doing at this corporate Christmas party?"

"My friend Georgia—the redhead—needed a date. She and her boyfriend just broke up."

"That's too bad."

I looked over my shoulder. The woman in question had her tongue down the young bartender's throat. "I think she's doing okay," I said.

Cory must have followed my gaze, because he laughed. "Oh yeah, she's just fine."

He tightened his hold on my waist, and I leaned in, inhaling the cologne at his neck.

A couple songs later, Cory said, "I like your tie."

"Thanks," I said, suddenly wishing I'd worn something more elegant or classy. I couldn't break my gaze from his. Something about his eyes had me under thrall. His face moved closer to mine, and I prepared myself to feel his lips on mine. I'd never wanted a kiss more in my life.

The spell was broken when someone bumped into me, causing me to nearly lose my balance. I grabbed onto Cory's arms to keep from falling.

When I turned to give the stink-eye to the offending party, I saw that it was Georgia. Drunk, but not fall-down drunk. She was draped all over Sam-the-Bartender, who gazed at her adoringly.

"Um, so...Sam and I are going home," Georgia said, a little too loudly.

"Oh. Are you sure?"

She nodded emphatically, and Sam added, "I'll take good care of her, I promise."

"I bet you will," I muttered. But Georgia was a big girl. She could make her own choices, and she deserved a night of fun to get her mind off her heartbreak.

And to be honest, I was glad to stay. I had only just met Cory and there was so much more I wanted to know. Wanted to _do._

"Okay," I said, a bit louder. "Be careful. And play safe."

Georgia looked Cory up and down, then said. "Same to you. Love you." She kissed my cheek, and then she and Sam were gone, and it was just Cory and me.

We danced for what felt like forever, just enjoying each other's touch, the closeness. We talked a little. What other music did he like? What kind of graphic design did I do? I loved his laugh, and the way his stubble brushed against my forehead as we danced. The more we talked, the easier it got. I was surprised to realize that despite having just barely met him, and even though he was almost unbearably gorgeous, I felt safe with him.

"Looks like it's about time to go," Cory murmured into my ear. We had drifted even closer together, and I'd rested my head on his shoulder. I looked up to find that the room had mostly cleared out. All that were left were Cory's staff, and two or three company employees gathering up the last of their things. The DJ announced that this would be the last song.

I wasn't ready for the night to be over. This wasn't like me at all, but once again feeling like I'd left my body, I somehow summoned the superhuman courage to whisper, "Do you maybe want to get a room?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Cory and I went back down to the lobby. He kept a hand on my back while I paid for a room, then grabbed my hand as we re-entered the elevator, this time headed for the twelfth floor.

He ran his hand along the side of my face. "You're hot, you know?"

I shook my head. "I'm average."

It was his turn to shake his head. "You're definitely not average." And then he leaned in to kiss me.

My body jolted when his lips touched mine, but I quickly relaxed into his touch. It was a soft kiss. Gentle, romantic. Just a hint of tongue. He tasted like wassail.

When the elevator dinged the doors opened onto our floor, a rush of apprehension hit me. Was I really about to do this? This wasn't me, was it? This wasn't real life. But then Cory took my hand again, and I released a breath. He was real, and he was the stuff of fairy tales. Hell yeah, I was doing this.

"I don't usually do this," I told him as he slid the keycard into the slot. I'd never been much for casual hook-ups. I'd tried it once or twice, but I didn't like sex with people I didn't know, people I couldn't be sure to see again. It was awkward. Embarrassing. Clinical. I craved the connection. I preferred sex with someone I cared about. It was better when there were emotions involved.

But Cory, even though we'd just met, didn't feel like a stranger. I already felt connected to him. I already felt all kinds of things for him that I couldn't explain.

"Don't worry. I'll still respect you in the morning." The light flashed green, and with a rakish grin, Cory pushed the door open.

I followed him into a room fancier than any I'd ever been in before. It had better be, considering what I'd paid for it. The room had hardwood floors, a fireplace, and not one but two chandeliers. And a bed. A giant platform bed right in the middle of the room, covered in a white down comforter. I gulped when I saw it.

The entire west wall was windows, looking out onto the glittering lights of the city. It had started snowing, and the tiny white flakes drifted lazily to the streets below. It gave the illusion of being in a snow globe, and I had the brief thought that this entire night might be a dream.

"Care to join me?" Cory asked.

I broke from my reverie and looked at him. I had stopped a few steps from the door, but he'd walked all the way in. Now, he made his way back toward me slowly.

I nodded, and took his outstretched hand. He pulled me toward him gently, then pushed the suit jacket off my shoulders and started lightly mouthing at my neck. I released a shuddered breath, and let my hands drift into his hair. His hands found their way to my tie, and he wiggled his fingers under the collar, loosening it before tugging it down. Then he started on my buttons.

I reached to pull the tie over my head, but he stopped me, green eyes sparkling. "Leave it. Please?"

I nodded. He made quick work of my shirt, leaving me in just my slacks and the tie around my neck.

"Mmm," Cory hummed. "Yeah, that's hot."

"If you say so." I reached for him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him toward me. "We need to get yours off, too."

"Gladly." Cory started undoing his buttons, but I was too impatient. I put my hands on his face and pulled him in for a kiss. He grunted at the contact, then relaxed into it, letting his hands work their way up my shoulders.

"Damn. You're a good kisser, you know?"

His words sent heat waves through my body. No one had ever told me that before. I responded by kissing him again, pressing my crotch tightly against his leg.

"We're not going to get very far at this rate," I murmured against his lips.

"We've got all night." And with that, he grabbed my tie like a leash and pulled me toward the bed. When we reached it, he spun me around and shoved me backwards onto it. My shoulders bounced against the duvet and my head hit the feather pillows just as Cory climbed atop me, straddling my hips. His shirt was only half-unbuttoned, and we were both fully clothed from the waist down.

"Get naked." I reached for the button of my own pants, releasing the aching length inside and rubbing at it through my boxers.

Cory pulled the half-open shirt over his head, revealing a vast expanse of pale skin, his chest and belly lightly furred with blond hair. My mouth watered, and I reached up and grabbed his waist, pulling him down into a kiss.

We both let our hands explore. Mine up and down his back, around to the front, rubbing my palm on that hairy chest. He gripped my arms, alternately caressing my skin and squeezing my biceps, up to my neck, then down to my wrists, grazing the soft skin there before tangling his fingers with mine. We kissed slowly, our groins seeking contact, and I groaned in relief at the pressure he provided.

"You smell good," Cory said, inhaling deeply against my neck.

"You feel good," I said back. I rolled us so that I was on top, then moved down to kiss his chest. "I love chest hair." I drew a light circle around his nipple with the tip of my tongue, then dove down to taste his navel. His erection pushed through his pants, pressing insistently against my chest. His hands threaded through my hair. I moved further down, nuzzling my face against his flat-front slacks.

"Shit, Wes, I'm so hard."

The sound of my name on his tongue made me throb. I opened my mouth and bit gently at the shape of him.

"Please," he panted.

"Pull it out for me."

His hands flew from my head to his fly, and they shook as he pulled the zipper down. I helped him shimmy out of his pants. Neither of us had the patience for any more foreplay. I gripped the waistband of his underwear and jerked them down, then slid my mouth over his cock.

His flavor overwhelmed my senses, and we both groaned. He whimpered when I pulled off and licked at the tip. Before I could put my mouth on him again, he reached down and grabbed the damn tie again, yanking me back up so our faces were close.

"You're too far away down there," he said.

I kissed him. "I can't wait," I breathed against his lips.

"Take your pants off."

I complied happily, relishing his mouth on my neck and shoulder as I kicked at my pants. Soon, I was naked and on my back, Cory's beautiful, slim body hovering over me.

"Can I try something?" he asked.

I nodded, and he reached for the tie at my neck. I let him pull it over my head, and watched as he wrapped it around his palm. He reached back down and closed his silk-covered hand around us.

I gasped. The cool material was incredible against my skin. My back arched as his hand began to move.

"How does it feel?"

"Amazing."

There was almost no friction as the fabric slid up and down, and yet his grip squeezed me with the perfect amount of pressure. I couldn't keep my hips still, and he moved with me, licking and nibbling at my collarbone as he jerked us both, hard and fast.

I came hard, and he followed not long after. I didn't even care that we had just ruined my favorite tie. It was worth it. I could probably wash it.

We fell asleep wrapped around each other, and as I drifted into unconsciousness, I whispered "Thank you, Santa."

I woke up the next morning to an empty bed. A hollow ache began to spread through my chest. I hoped I was wrong; maybe he'd just run out for bagels or something. But my gut told me he wasn't coming back.

I dropped my head back onto the pillow. It hadn't been a one-night stand for me. I had really liked him; I'd been looking forward to waking up with him. Maybe ordering breakfast. Exchanging numbers, arranging a date. I wanted to know him. See where this could lead. But as the minutes ticked away into an hour and then more, it became clear that he'd had a different idea. I supposed that was only natural. Most guys could do casual sex. They didn't read love and relationships and forever into every sexual encounter. I was the weird one.

I got up and took a shower, then gathered my clothes from the floor. My wallet was there in the pocket of my pants. At least he hadn't robbed me. I dressed and made sure I had all my stuff, ready to get out of that hotel and forget the night had ever happened. But I couldn't find my tie.

I checked between the wet, rumpled sheets. I even pulled the bedspread off and shook it out but it was nowhere to be found.

It wasn't until I was almost to the door that I noticed the note taped to it. I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face when I read it.

Sorry I had to run, something came up. Meet me at Sweet Afton for brunch? 11:30. See you then.

xoxo-Cory

917-555-5852

Relief mixed with anticipation in my veins. He did want to see me again. I texted him right away.

Cory, this is Wes. Of course I'll meet you for brunch. See you at 11:30

I left the hotel floating six inches above the sidewalk. I couldn't wait to see him. Couldn't wait to get to know him better, to see what we might be able to become. I just had this feeling about him. It was way too early, crazy to even be considering, but the chemistry between us was off the charts. What if he was The One? I actually giggled out loud at the thought as I let myself into my apartment and headed for my room to change my clothes.

At 11:20, I walked into Sweet Afton and got a table. It was a quaint little place, more bar than restaurant, but Google assured me they were known for their brunch. The space was small but charming, with exposed brick walls and thick wood beam ceilings. And the food smelled fantastic. I texted Cory to let him know that I was there.

Small table, back right corner

I ordered some coffee and settled in to wait. I was early, and didn't expect him for at least ten minutes.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty.

_Hey, you on your way?_ I texted. No response.

After thirty minutes I was starting to feel pretty stupid.

_This is Cory, right?_ I texted.

If I have the wrong number, lmk pls

Nothing. After nearly fifty minutes I got the hint. I paid for my coffee and went back home. I never got a return text.
Part Two – This Year

Cory

I stop briefly at the employee entrance to the hotel and take a deep breath. This place brings back a lot of memories, both good and bad. Memories of the most beautiful man I've ever met, the most amazing sex I ever had. But also memories of the most excruciating physical pain I've ever experienced. Pain that still, a year later, hasn't completely gone away. I rub my aching right hip, the one with the steel rod holding everything together, and head into the building. I can't complain too much; I'm lucky to even be able to walk.

My company catered this same party last year. I've been looking forward to tonight's event ever since the accounting firm called to book it. I don't know if _he_ will be there. Probably not, since he doesn't work at Stewart and Braun. He was that redhead's plus one last year. But _she_ might be there, assuming she still works there, and I'll finally have the chance to talk to her. At least, it's the best chance I've had all year. I've tried not to get my hopes up but it's been hard.

I tried to find her earlier this year, the redhead Wes was with at the party, when I'd recovered enough to start putting my life back together. I couldn't stop thinking about that night I'd spent with him; that last perfect moment before everything turned upside down. I wanted that moment back. I wanted a do-over. But I'd lost my phone, so I didn't have his number, and I didn't even know his last name. And I couldn't remember the name of the woman he'd been with. I called the accounting firm that we'd catered for and asked about her, but they wouldn't give out any personal information when I couldn't give them more than a vague physical description.

I tried looking for him online, but in a city this big, I couldn't narrow it down enough. All I knew was "Wes" and "graphic designer."

So tonight's my best chance. I'll work the party, pray to God that the redhead shows up and hasn't dyed her hair, and maybe, just maybe, I'll get Wes's number. Or a last name. _Something._ Anything. Because I can't accept that I will never see him again.

"You're here!" Lauren gives me a warm hug as I join her in the kitchen behind the event room. "Are you ready?" she asks, her blue eyes wide with concern.

Lauren is my sous-chef, and of course, she knows all about what happened last year. She was a rock for me when I was stuck in the hospital. She ran the business like a champ so I could focus on getting better. And she did everything she could to help me find Wes. She even called the hotel for me, trying to find out who had been tending the bar at the party, since the one thing I did remember was that Wes's friend had gone home with the bartender. But the hotel said he'd only been a seasonal employee and they didn't have his contact information.

Every road was a dead end, and eventually I'd given up. But Christmas is the time for miracles, right? I had the chance to sit on Santa's lap a week ago, at a party we catered for a small "independent film" company. "Have you been naughty this year? Or have you been very, _very_ naughty?" Santa, dressed only in booty shorts and a red hat, asked me. I told him that the only thing I wanted this year was a second chance.

"Yeah, I'm ready," I say. "More than ready."

"I really hope this turns out the way you want it to."

"Me too."

We're doing dinner buffet style this year, so Lauren and I start wheeling food out to the banquet hall and setting it up on a long table. The party isn't due to start for another thirty minutes, but my eyes keep drifting back to the door. I don't want to miss the moment when she gets here. I hope she doesn't hate me. Wes probably thinks I stood him up; I'm sure he didn't have great things to say about me.

I'm about out of things to fiddle with on the table, and it's time to head back into the kitchen to wait when I see her. I recognize her auburn curls, bouncing around her shoulders. This year she's wearing slinky green dress that shows off her creamy white skin. Damn. If I was into women...

I keep an eye on her as she wanders through the room, stopping to mingle with co-workers as she makes her way to the open bar. I chuckle a little to myself; I remember that about her, too.

Once she has her drink and has found a seat at an otherwise mostly empty table, I know that it's time. The party will officially begin in twenty minutes. If I'm going to talk to her, it has to be now.

My hip aches, and my limp is slightly more pronounced as I walk toward her table and tap her shoulder.

She looks up at me with a "Who the fuck are you?" expression on her face and I nearly lose my nerve. She's an intimidating woman. But I have to do this. I swallow hard and say, "Do you remember me?"

She just regards me blankly. "I'm sorry, should I?"

I can't tell if she genuinely doesn't remember me, or if she's messing with me. There's a slightly hostile undertone to her words so I'm leaning toward the latter.

"I'm Cory. I run the catering company, and I...met your friend Wes last year."

She purses her lips but doesn't say anything. I forge ahead. "I'm sorry, I know we met at last year's party, but I don't remember your name."

She barely conceals an eye roll, then sighs. "Georgia."

"Georgia!" I repeat. I've been trying to remember that name for a year. It's like finally scratching that itch on the unreachable part of your back.

Her face is like stone; she clearly doesn't have a good opinion of me.

"Look, Georgia. I know you remember me from last year and I'm sure you probably hate me because of what went down with Wes, but...I'd really like a chance to explain."

This is when she explodes.

"What's there to explain? You hit it and quit it on my best friend. Which, you know, fine. But you didn't have to make him think it was more than that, you know? But maybe that's what gets you off. Making a guy think you're interested, that you had a connection and want to get to know him better, then just not show up and never answer any of his texts or calls. Make him think he's crazy. Does that do it for you? Is that it?"

"No, of course not. I had every intention of meeting him that morning."

"Then why didn't you?"

"I was in the hospital."

She blinks, but doesn't say anything. That got her attention, and I jump at the opening. "My phone got crushed in the accident," I say hurriedly. "I didn't get a replacement for it until almost six weeks later. The new phone didn't show my missed texts or calls. I have no idea who tried to get in touch with me during that time."

Her eyes narrow. "Accident?"

"I was hit by a car, crossing the street to catch my Uber. I was in a coma for six days, and then in the hospital for several weeks after that. I had quite a few surgeries. And then of course there was physical therapy for months after _that_..."

She looks at me like she's trying to decide if I'm making it up, so I pull up the sleeve of my t-shirt, showing her the long, thick scar on my shoulder. "That was the least serious of the injuries."

Her eyes are wide. "Damn, boy. Okay, I believe you."

"You do?"

"Yeah." Her face softens, and she nods at the seat next to her. I take that as an invitation, and sit down at the table.

"Well then...can I ask a favor?"

She sighs dramatically. "What?"

"Can you give me Wes's number? Or at least tell me his last name. I haven't been able to get him out of my head for a year. I really think we could have had something good, and at the very least, well. I'd like to explain to him why I disappeared."

"I can do better than that," Georgia says, a glint in her eye. "I'll get him to come here so you can tell him now."

"Now? I...I can't now, the dinner is about to start. I have to work. And I'm...I'm not ready."

"Well, you have until the end of the party tonight to get ready. I'll have Wes here by the time you're done."

"Really?"

And I finally get to see her smile. "Yes, really. Wes really liked you. He was so sad when you stood him up and didn't answer his texts or calls. And I was ready to string you up by the balls. But if your story is true, and it seems like it is, well, then you didn't hurt him on purpose. And I think everyone deserves a second chance."

"Thank you, Georgia."

"Don't thank me yet, I still have to convince him to come. But I have an idea. You see that guy over there?"

She points to a man a few tables over in an ill-fitting suit, his arm around a plump but pretty younger woman.

"That's my ex-boyfriend, Evan, and that's his wife Megan. They got married, like, five minutes after we broke up and now they have a six-week-old baby."

"Damn, he moves fast," I remark.

She nods. "It bothered me a lot at first, but they seem really happy. I guess when it's right, you just know it."

She's talking about her ex, of course, but I can't help but think of Wes. People would probably think I'm crazy for having such strong feelings for a guy I only met once. Someone I barely know. But Evan and Megan are living proof: _When it's right, you just know it._

"But even though I'm pretty much over it," Georgia continues, "I still don't love having it flaunted in my face. In fact, Wes offered to come with me again this year as moral support, but I told him I'd be okay. But maybe it's harder than I thought it would be?"

That glint is back in her eye as she pulls out her phone and starts dialing. I can't help but laugh.

"Wes? I need you. I thought I could do this. I thought I could handle seeing Evan here with Megan, but I can't. Wes, I'm panicking, what do I do?"

Dang, she's good. She's worked herself up so much her cheeks are pink and I think she may even have tears in her eyes.

"No, I can't leave early. You know how my boss is about stuff like this, I have to stay for a while. No, don't come now, you won't get here in time. But...maybe you could meet me at the hotel bar downstairs in a couple hours? Say ten o'clock? Okay. Thank you. I'm sorry I'm such a mess. Love you too."

Georgia puts the phone down and grins at me. "And that's how it's done."

I match her grin. "You're amazing. Thank you so much."

"You can thank me by treating Wes right. And don't get hit by a car this time, okay?"

I laugh. "Deal."

I head back into the kitchen walking on air. I hum and dance my way through the dinner, and when I tell Lauren I have to leave early, she gives me a hug and wishes me luck. I hurry home; I have something I need to do before I meet Wes at the hotel bar.

I make it back to the hotel with ten minutes to spare. I find a table near the front and settle in to wait. I want to see him the moment he walks in.

As I wait I get nervous. What if he doesn't show? What if I'm about to experience exactly what he did a year ago? No, he'll show, I tell myself. He doesn't know he's meeting me. He thinks he's meeting Georgia, to console her after a tough night watching her ex with his new wife. He's a good guy. He won't blow her off.

When he walks through the door, he takes my breath away. He hasn't changed a bit. Chestnut hair, a short, well-groomed beard. He's wearing a thick wool coat over his suit and a red and white scarf around his neck. His cheeks are pink from the cold, his eyes bright even from this distance. He came. "Thank you, Santa," I whisper.

When he sees me, I think he might turn around and walk back out the door. I stand, and he regards me warily. I don't move, afraid I might spook him. Like he's a bear or something. Finally, his shoulders drop and he approaches me cautiously. _Yes!_ A victory.

"Wes."

"Cory."

"I'm so glad you came. Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure," he says after a beat. He hasn't dropped his guard, but he's giving me a chance. I'll take the win.

I get us both a Scotch from the bar while Wes removes his coat and scarf, and return to the table. I don't quite know what to say, and actually I don't really feel like talking. I just want to drink him in. _Wes is here._

"Is Georgia here?" We asks when I return.

"No."

"So this was a setup."

"I guess you could call it that. I talked to Georgia at the party, and she agreed to help me. I really just wanted a chance to explain what happened last year."

"What happened last year was a one night stand. It wasn't a big deal."

"It wasn't?" A weight settles on my chest.

He shrugs. "Obviously. I mean...I thought we had a connection, but clearly you didn't feel the same way. You got what you wanted and then bailed. Fair enough, but I don't know why you had to lead me on with that brunch invitation. That was humiliating, you know?" He bites his lip, as though he didn't mean to say that last part. It's adorable. It reminds me of how nervous he was last year when we first met, before he relaxed enough to let me get to know him. I hate that I hurt him. That he's back to guarding himself around me.

"I wanted to meet you more than anything in the world," I tell him. "I didn't stand you up on purpose."

"Oh yeah? Then why didn't you tell me that the dozens of times I called and texted?"

I tell him my story, much the way I told Georgia earlier tonight, and I watch his face carefully for his reaction. As I speak, his eyes transition from skeptical, to concerned, to shocked, to empathetic.

"Wow. That's crazy," he says when I finish. He blinks and looks down at his hands, then back at me. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." I can't help the grin on my face. I'm actually sitting at a table with _Wes_. Talking to him, looking at his face. And that intense chemistry between us is still there. Like a bungee cord of heat tying us together. I hope I get the chance to do more than talk to him. But that can wait. I don't want to get ahead of myself.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again." He bites his lip and looks down at the table, twisting his Scotch between his fingers.

"So you did go to the restaurant? That morning, I mean."

He nods. "I did, but when you didn't show up..."

Dammit. "I'm so sorry." I just stop myself from reaching out and putting my hands over his.

"It's not like you did it on purpose," Wes says. "I mean...I know that now. But at the time, I felt pretty stupid."

"I would have called you if I could. I hate that I made you feel that way. Our night together...it was special to me, Wes." I take a deep breath—here goes nothing. "I'd really like a second chance. I haven't stopped thinking about you since that night. Well, since I woke up from the coma, I guess. When I met you, I thought you were just a cute guy that I could have some fun with for an evening but it turned out to be so much more than that. And I've spent an entire year trying to figure out how to find you again so I could tell you that."

"Really?"

"Yes. That was night was very special for me. So I guess the question is...was it special to you?"

I think I know the answer; Georgia let the cat out of the bag earlier. But I still hold my breath as I wait for his response.

"Yes, it was. I told you then; I never do things like that. But you made me feel so safe, so wanted. I felt something that night, with you, that I'd never felt before. All I wanted was to spend more time with you, explore what we might have. I haven't stopped thinking about you."

"You don't know how happy that makes me."

His first real smile lights up his face, and it twists my stomach up like a Gumby doll. "I can't believe we're here right now. Like the last year never happened."

"Let's pretend it didn't, okay? Let's pretend it's still that first night. We'll do it right this time."

"I don't know, it seemed pretty right at the time." There's a heat in his eyes that tells me he's talking about more than just our meeting. I squirm in my seat. I hope he's willing to go home with me tonight, because I have a whole year's worth of time to make up for with him.

And that reminds me. "I have something for you."

"Really?" He's surprised, of course, but pleased.

I reach into the pocket of the coat hanging over the back of my chair and pull out a small box, giftwrapped in blue paper covered in penguins. "Merry Christmas, Wes."

He looks like a little kid as he pulls the ribbon of the package and tears into the wrapping paper. When he opens the box, he freezes, just staring.

"You bought me a tie? It looks exactly like the one I lost last year. How did you remember that?"

"No, I didn't buy you a tie." I wait for him to piece it together.

"Wait. Is this...my tie? _The_ tie?"

I grin widely.

"Is it...um..." his cheeks flush a shade of red that would give Rudolph's nose a run for its money.

"I had it dry-cleaned," I tell him. "I was afraid it would fall apart in the wash. I held onto it to remember you by, but...well, I couldn't leave it like that."

He throws his head back and laughs, a laugh so hearty and warm it could be coming from Santa himself. "Did the employees at the dry cleaner say anything?"

I laugh too. "Not a word."

"I can't believe you kept this."

"It's the only thing I had to prove that night really happened."

"Wow. You're quite the romantic."

"I guess I am. I think you bring it out in me."

He studies my face, and I warm under his gaze. I want to know what he's thinking, but I don't say anything. I just let him take me in, and I do the same. I can't believe he's really here! I could look at his face for hours.

Wes yawns, and I look at my watch. It's only eleven, but when you're in your mid-thirties eleven might as well be three in the morning.

"Are you tired?" I ask. "Do you want to go?"

He shakes his head, then nods. "Yes, I'm tired, but I don't want to go. I'm afraid if I go to sleep, I'll wake up and find out this was all a dream."

"It's not a dream."

"Prove it."

I lean in and take his lips in a soft, tender kiss. He sighs into it, opening his mouth and letting me take the lead. He tastes delicious, like Scotch and peppermint. When we finally part, his lids are heavy and his eyes are dreamy and far away.

"I'm not ready for tonight to be over," he says.

"Do you want to go back to my place?" I suggest. "I can think of a few things we can do with this tie."

"I like the way you think."

I lean in to kiss him again, and the last year slips away. All that matters is that we're together, like we were always meant to be. And we have a hundred Christmases ahead of us to get it right.

The End
**About Nicky Spencer**

Nicky Spencer is a romance writer of all pairings. Nicky is a firm believer that love conquers all–that's why her favorite theme is forbidden love. If two (or three!) people shouldn't be together, Nicky will find a way to get them there. When you love someone, nothing else matters.

Nicky lives in Salt Lake City, Utah with no husband, no kids and a part-time dog. She loves to read, write, listen to podcasts, watch baseball and waste time on the internet. She is firmly anti-oxford comma.

Links

Web: <https://nickyspencer.com/>

Twitter: @authornicky

Facebook: Nicky Spencer

Also by Nicky Spencer

A Bolt of Blue – Available Now

Ian Golinski has been in love with his best friend since he was fourteen years old. When he finally decides to confess his feelings, he finds that his perpetually single friend isn't so single anymore. What's a boy to do when he has to share the love of his life with someone else? Especially someone so damn hot?

Dusty Smith has finally found The One. The only problem is The One clearly has feelings for someone else, even if he doesn't realize it. Dusty has to convince his lover that they're meant to be. But how does he do that when the other man turns out to be perfect for them both?

Mitch Becker likes things nice and simple. But as his relationship with his boyfriend heats up, he starts developing feelings for his best friend. Suddenly his life is one big complication. How can he choose between two soul mates?

Find out what happens when three men ask the question: What if we don't have to choose?

### Let's Not Go Crazy

By Stephen Hoppa

About the Story

The holidays are stressful enough without Ethan's boyfriend Nate trying to kill him with Christmas cheer. But Nate's found a whole new way to torture Ethan when he reveals that he wants kids. Will their conflicting desires tear their relationship apart, or will they find a way to ring in the new year stronger than ever?

Let's Not Go Crazy is the fourth installment of Figuring Out Everything Between Us, which Follows Nate and Ethan as they grapple with their own dysfunction in their journey to love one another.

* * * *

Let's Not Go Crazy

Nate

"Where are you?" Ethan sighed into the phone.

"At the mall," I answered absently as I wove between tight knots of Christmas shoppers.

"I thought you were studying for your psychology exams."

"I was."

"At the mall?"

"I was at the library... then I saw someone, so I..." I caught site of the couple. They were still arguing. She looked like she was about to smack the guy over the head with the armful of cook-books she'd borrowed from the library in the mall. That was something I'd always liked about Christmas. The stress made people violent and explosive.

"Nate, are you following people again? You can't do that, buddy. Someone's going to call the cops on you."

"There's nothing illegal about being in a mall."

"Fine, whatever, dinner's been ready for hours."

"I'll be home soon."

He sighed. "You're lucky I love you so much."

I grinned as Ethan's words spread through my body like sunshine, and said back, "Love you, too."

I turned away from the couple about to kill each other. I guess I'd been curious, because they reminded me a lot of me and Ethan; how we used to be... still were sometimes, but less and less. Over the year and a half we'd been together, we'd become less like two clashing forces trying to destroy each other, and more like partners working together. It was strange, but I liked it. We were interwoven, and became more knit together every day from all the little shit; making dinner together, taking care of his dogs, sleeping side by side.

I hadn't realized it was happening at first, but some of my insatiable itch to completely possess Ethan had been soothed as life slowly melded us together. Frankly, it was much easier to love him when I didn't constantly feel the need to rip his skin off and climb inside of him.

I'd spent weeks hunting for the perfect Christmas gift that could express all this, but I was beginning to think it was a hopeless mission. A window display caught my eye, and when I turned, I smacked hard into something at waist height. It was only when I heard the thing crying that I looked down and realized it was a kid. I rubbed my hip bone where his head had cracked into me, and bent down.

"You okay?"

He looked up all weepy eyed, and the way his mouth moved but couldn't make any words kinda reminded me of Ethan—but then everything reminded me of Ethan.

"You okay, kid?" I asked again.

He nodded, but kept crying.

"Where's your mom... or whoever."

He shook his head.

"Are you lost?"

He nodded.

"C'mon, we'll find your mom."

He scrambled up and put his hands in mine. All ten of his little fingers gripped me tight, and I couldn't help smiling. I'd always liked kids. Their minds ran in every direction at once, and their emotions just poured out of them. Kids usually seemed to like me, too, which wasn't something I could say for a lot of people.

I kept him close as the mob of shoppers jostled us. "Where'd you see your mom last?"

He shrugged.

"Where were you shopping?"

"Mommy was buying Christmas presents."

"What was she buying?"

"She was buying, umm..." He screwed his face up as he tried to remember.

"Nevermind. I have a better plan."

He squirmed when I grabbed him by his little waist and threw him up onto my shoulders above the throng of people.

"You see her?"

He was silent for a minute before squeaking out and bouncing up and down on my shoulders. "There she is!" His tiny fingers ripped at my hair in his excitement. Little guy was fucking cute as hell.

A woman ran towards us, squeezing her piles of bags through the tight crowd as the kid called out to her. She was pretty, had blonde hair like my mother'd had, but her face was all twisted up and she looked like she was ready to fight me.

"Timothy, what are you _doing?"_

"Kid got lost." I lifted him from my shoulders and held him out to her, his legs dangling. She shuffled her bags so she could snatch him from me. After taking a second to compose herself, she said, "Thank you," adding, "Timothy, say thank you to the nice man."

"Thank you, nice man," he mumbled into his mother's shirt where he'd hidden his face.

Nice man.

Hah.

* * * *

As soon as I opened the apartment door, Ethan's dogs mauled me. The bigger one leapt against my thighs, trying to knock me over as I slipped out of my coat, while the two puppies ran off with my boots, hiding under the couch where they could chew them to pieces. Ethan was working at the table. He probably appreciated me being gone so long, because he liked to sneak in more work than was good for him. Ever since my dad hired him to run his company charity, work was the only thing he thought of besides sex.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing to the shopping bag in my hand.

"It's for the tree." I dumped the contents of the bag onto the table.

"Oh, God, not more of this shit." Ethan groaned as he eyed the candy canes and Christmas lights I'd picked up from the mall. "I swear to God every time I let you leave the house, you drag more crap back with you."

"I realized why our tree didn't look right—we didn't decorate it!"

"Nate, our tree looks like shit because you got bored setting it up and only stuck in half the branches."

"Well, the lights will help hide that." I unraveled the string of lights and started twisting it around the tree, but Ethan's dogs leapt all over me, grabbing the cord and pulling it away, along with a couple more branches from the plastic tree.

"Jesus, are you trying to kill them? Little, Honey, Chocolate, get over here." He frantically tried to scoop up the two smaller puppies while shooing the bigger one away from the tree. His spastic movements only got the dogs more riled up, making them jump all over him and tug on his clothes.

"Hey, I think they're getting into the Christmas spirit." I grinned and plugged in the lights, which cast a rainbow glow over Ethan as he tripped over one of the puppies and fell on his face.

"Bah humbug." Ethan groaned as he lifted himself from the squirming pile of fluff on the floor.

"What did you make for dinner?" I asked, sniffing my way over to the kitchen.

"I ate without you," he said, shaking off the dogs still trailing after his pant hems, and sat back down at his computer. "Since you seemed to have wandered off on another absurd mission."

The dogs pawed at my pant legs as I served myself pasta from the pot on the stove, and sat at the table across from Ethan. My mind went back to the kid I'd seen at the mall. Christmas would probably be even better with kids around to get excited. The _click click click_ of Ethan's keyboard punctuated my thoughts as I ate.

"What do you think our kids would call us?" I stirred the meatballs around on my plate. "I can't really picture anyone calling me 'dad'."

"What?" Ethan looked up like someone had yanked him by the hair. "What kids? What are you talking about?"

"I mean, you know, down the line. Hypothetically."

"No, I don't know." He shook his head so fast it could've snapped off. "When have we _ever_ talked about having kids? I thought the beauty of being gay was we didn't have to worry about that—if you could get me pregnant, it would've happened by now."

"Haha." I flicked a meatball onto the floor, and the dogs scrambled over each other to get to it. "But, I mean, there are other ways to go about it, if that was what we wanted."

"Is that what you want?" The look on his face could only be described as terror.

"I guess I thought it was something we'd both eventually want." My brows knit together.

"That definitely wasn't where I saw my life going." He shifted uncomfortably like someone was pinching him. "To be honest, that was one of the many reasons why I broke up with my ex. She wanted kids, and I just really couldn't see myself in that role. I mean, I was just living a lie trying to fit into the life she wanted."

"Oh." I set my fork down. It wasn't like I'd given kids much thought, but knowing that it was out of the question for Ethan... that sat hard in my gut.

"We can talk about this down the road." Ethan scratched the back of his head as he looked me over.

"You're lying again, aren't you?"

He pressed his lips shut tight before opening them to say, "Yeah... kinda... I mean, we can talk about it again, but I don't see myself changing my mind about it. Ever."

"Oh."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

I shrugged, picking up my fork and swirling pasta around it. Ethan watched me for a while before finally reopening his laptop. The silence was heavy, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything else. Truth was, I really hadn't thought out my position on kids, but clearly Ethan had. I wasn't sure why that hurt so much. I guess it'd made me realize that kids really were something I wanted in my life. And maybe it would be something I'd never have.

* * * *

Ethan still clicked away on his laptop even after I'd done the dishes and stripped down to my boxers for bed. He and my dad were working with a team of lawyers on the conservation charity they were setting up, and he spent most of his waking hours emailing back and forth, or talking on the phone about buying acres of forest and marketing endangered frogs and blah, blah, blah.

I let out a sigh as I pulled the covers around me. The heavy lump hadn't left my gut. I thought of the kid I'd seen earlier, how nice it'd been to have his hand wrapped around mine, and how good it'd felt to help him. Why didn't Ethan want that?

The door creaked open and I turned away from it. I was still working through everything in my mind and I couldn't deal with talking to him about it. Ethan's warm body curled into mine and he whispered, "Are you awake?"

_Just go to sleep._ I bit my tongue as his hands slid down my bare chest.

"I know you're not sleeping," he murmured teasingly.

A small groan betrayed me as he reached my waistband, and I rocked into him, feeling his hard cock press against my ass, but when he slipped a hand into my boxers, I flipped over and circled my arms around him. Ethan wriggled against my hold, but couldn't break free.

"You're such a bastard," he groaned, thrusting his hips desperately.

"Go to sleep." I squeezed harder on his arms. "You've been working too hard. You're tired."

"I'm not tired, I'm horny." He tried to twist away from me, but it just made me crush him more.

"You're always horny."

"Yeah, I know." He pressed his cock against my thigh, completely overwhelming me with how fucking needy his body was for mine.

I gripped his hips and pushed them away from me. "Careful, wouldn't want to get pregnant."

"Is that what this is about?" He stopped, all his resistance draining. "Nate, are you upset?"

"No. I'm tired." I rolled over, turning my back to him. "I just want to go to sleep."

Ethan

It would've been easier to sleep listening to a war zone than to Nate's soft breathing. I'd had no idea how important kids were to his future, or how much I'd just shit on his dreams. How badly had I fucked up tonight?

I dozed off, only to wake in a cold sweat. I kicked the covers off, but couldn't get back to sleep thanks to the light flooding into the bedroom from that ugly Christmas tree Nate had slapped together. I'd said I didn't want to make a big deal over Christmas, but that only seemed to make him get more obnoxious with his 'holiday cheer'. He'd even tried baking, which had been horrifying. I was already stressed about getting a gift for the guy whose parents had bought him a Mercedes when he turned sixteen (which Nate had promptly lost... how do you lose a car?). Meanwhile, I couldn't even remember my mom putting up a Christmas tree. My dad sent a gift every year, but it was less a kind gesture and more a painful reminder that he'd chosen not to be with me. The last thing I wanted was Nate putting pressure on a day I'd really rather not celebrate.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about Nate's stupid Christmas plans—but that just left room for me to worry about work deadlines. And then Nate's exams. At least he seemed to be more interested in psychology than he had been in the business program he'd failed... twice.

I couldn't even begin to deal with his sudden urge to become the sole provider for a tiny person. If I tried to digest it, I might just have a mental break down. I finally fell asleep to dreams of Nate strangling me with a string of Christmas lights while the dogs ate me alive.

I woke again. This time Nate was gone. I bolted up. The alarm clock glowed 4:13.

"Nate?" I called out as I stumbled out of bed.

The dogs stirred as I moved to the front door to find my shoes, already bringing up Nate's number on my phone. This wasn't the first time Nate had disappeared on me. When he needed time to think, it usually meant wandering off and doing something impulsive. Or terrifying.

"Where the fuck are you?" I cursed under my breath.

"Hmm?" A mumbled response made me spin around to see a him roll over on the couch.

"Jesus, you scared me," I said, referring more to his disappearance than him startling me.

"Sorry." He rubbed his face and nestled further into the couch.

I cuddled up next to him and we rearranged ourselves awkwardly, trying to find a way to fit so neither of us was falling off, finally settling with me laying on Nate, head resting on his chest.

"Are you pissed at me?" I asked.

"No." He shook his head. "I just wanted to think for a bit and fell asleep out here."

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"I'm just not sure I get it," Nate whispered into the darkness. "You love taking care of your dogs. How is a kid—or two—any different?"

"Nate, it's completely different," I murmured back. "You can't really fuck up a dog's life."

"Huh?" His hand paused on my hair.

"Think of it. If we had a kid, we'd be responsible for a human being. Their whole life, their future, their psyche. It'd all be on us."

"And you don't think we could do it?"

"I just think of, you know... well, I think of the way my parents fucked up with me. I don't ever want to do that to someone."

He dropped his hands from my hair, letting them lay still at his sides. "I guess that's sort of why I like the idea of having kids... not to fuck them up... but to do the opposite of fuck them up—whatever that is."

"I think the fact that you don't even know the word for _not-fucked-up_ shows that maybe it's too big a job for us to handle." I tried to speak gently, but with my ear pressed against his chest, I swore I heard his heart breaking.

"Oh."

The silence stirred the guilt eating at my gut, and I knew it wasn't my fault, but I couldn't help feeling like I was failing him. How could we have kids? There were still days when we spent more time arguing than we did breathing. Maybe Nate would one day grow up enough to be a father, but I wasn't fit to be anyone's role model, and I didn't see that ever changing regardless of how much my therapist praised my improvement.

I really just didn't want to fuck anyone's life up. I'd always thought I'd do anything for Nate, but bringing an innocent bystander into our chaos was where I drew the line.

"I just can't help thinking it'd be nice to be there for a kid, to help them through the rough shit," he whispered.

"I just... I don't think it's a job we're suited for."

His silence weighed down on me.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"Stop it." He sighed. "You don't have anything to apologize for. We want different things. That's not your fault."

"But you're sad, and that makes me feel like shit."

"Yeah, I am kinda sad," he admitted. "But you don't need to feel shitty."

"How can I feel okay about this?"

"I'll get over it," he said unconvincingly. "If you won't change your mind, then I have no other choice."

"Don't say that like changing my mind is an option. Trust me, I've given this a lot of thought."

"I didn't mean it like that." He ran his hands through my hair again. "I mean, thanks for being honest with me." The pain in his voice couldn't be more obvious, and it reminded me why I disliked being honest. Disliked talking in general. I cut the conversation short by putting my mouth to his, slowly sucking his bottom lip. A long groan spilled from his mouth to mine as he crushed me to his body. In seconds, I'd lost control of the kiss, Nate twisting me until I was beneath him.

"Do you think you can weasel out of this conversation by seducing me?" He grinned against my lips, tightening his grip on my wrist.

"It's always worked before."

A deep laugh rumbled up from his chest and he bit my lower lip just hard enough to hurt. "If you're going to use that tactic, you better be ready for me to fuck you into oblivion."

"You know I always am."

He twisted my shirt in his hands and yanked it over my head. Then he slid his fingers down my torso until they tangled in the waistband of my boxers. The demanding way he undressed me always left me breathless. Nate took my clothes off like they belonged to him. But of course he thought everything belonged to him.

The soft glow of the Christmas tree reflected off Nate's blond hair as he kissed over my jaw, down my neck. His lips and hands were all over me at once, finding all the sensitive spots that only he knew, turning my breaths into choked moans. Every brush of his hand against my skin silently said, _this is mine._

The heat of the apartment pressed against us as he pushed me into the couch. His hands wove into my hair, pulling on it slightly, lighting up the nerves in my scalp. A long breath left my lips when his cock slid against mine. Nate could have me begging for him in seconds.

"Tell me you love me," he murmured into my ear, pulling tighter on my hair.

"I love you," I groaned out, pressing up against him. "I love you so much it hurts."

"Good." He grinned against the back of my neck and nipped at my ear.

"Now will you please fuck me?"

"Nah." He bucked his hips, stroking his stiff length against mine. It felt so good it was almost agonizing.

He grabbed both my wrists in his hand, pinning them above my head as he bucked against my thighs. Beads of pre-cum pooled between us and I choked on a moan. The pleasure only made me ache to have him inside me, and he knew it. Nate was amazing at giving me just a little less than I asked for, and yet so much more than I wanted.

A fine sweat glowed on his muscled body. Every sigh and groan that left his lips sent shivers down my spine. His skin felt so good against mine that I could hardly breathe each time his shaft slid against mine. "Oh, God, stop—you're going to make me come," I groaned.

"Yeah, I know." His voice was smooth and teasing.

My back arched and I gasped out a moan. Nate's arms squeezed around me as I gave into him, letting him drag me over the edge of pleasure, only to resurface with his lips against mine, kissing me deep and slow. A beautiful haze enveloped me, and even the dilapidated Christmas tree in the corner was gorgeous. It was amazing how perfect the world could be when Nate was on top of me.

"Jesus, you have to let me make you come now."

"I don't have to let you do anything." He grabbed me by the waist, threw me over his shoulder with a grunt, and tromped into the bedroom. "You work too much. Go to sleep."

I groaned as he threw me to the bed. He ignored my complaint, instead pulling the covers over me and crawling into the empty space. His strong arms wrapped around me and I relaxed into his warmth.

"Are you sure you're not mad at me?" I murmured as sleep started to take me.

There was no response except his soft breathing in the darkness.

Nate

Ethan was still asleep when I snuck out of bed. I smiled when I looked at him naked, curled up with his hair sticking everywhere. The guy really was a hot mess. I brushed his cheek gently, and his hand flew up to swat mine away. My grin widened. Then I felt a weight settle in my chest as I remembered his last question to me before he'd fallen asleep.

I didn't want to be mad at Ethan. And that made it even worse, because now I was mad at myself for being mad at him. That hot feeling spread through me no matter how hard I fought it.

In the living room, Ethan's three dogs were barking in their crates, begging to be let out so they could cause chaos in the apartment. Ethan insisted on locking them up at night after one of them chewed up all the wires on his old playstation. I'd never seen him so freaked out as he'd been when he was holding that little puppy in the waiting room of the vet, stroking its ears and telling him he'd be okay.

Did he really think he'd make a shitty parent? Sometimes he was so nurturing it was disgusting. He should be channeling that into something other than his annoying dogs.

The dogs exploded in yelps and tail wags when I opened the doors of their crates. Wet noses pushed at my ankles, and paws clawed at my thighs as they leapt up to kiss me.

"Yeah, yeah, good morning." I rubbed my eyes groggily. It was so early the sun wasn't out, but I couldn't lay next to Ethan, feeling my resentment growing the longer I looked at him. I've never dealt well with anger.

I put my coat on and clipped leashes on the dogs, holding tight as they tugged me down the hallway into the elevator, barking with excitement. The freezing air helped to cool my head a bit. My mind began to wander as the dogs sniffed and pawed their way down the sidewalk.

I'd dreamt about the kid from the mall. Or maybe it wasn't the same one. Whatever. I'd dreamt about a kid. My kid.

It had been the most vivid dream I could remember. We were in a park at sunset and I was helping him onto a bike, telling him to hold onto the handle bars. He wobbled along for a bit before the front wheel twisted out of control and he slammed into the pavement. The heartache of him getting hurt had felt so real. When I'd scooped him into my arms, his body had curled into mine, like he'd known I would protect him. Now I couldn't get that image out of my head as I walked through the graying morning.

Ethan was showering when I got home. Normally I'd join him, but instead I grabbed my car keys and slipped out the door. The library should be open soon. I could avoid him for a few more hours.

* * * *

It was noon when he texted me asking where I was. I glanced at the text, guilt pricking at me. I shouldn't be mad at him. Shouldn't feel this resentful just because he wanted something different than I did.

I didn't answer, just kept scribbling in my textbook—thick black lines and swirling circles—covering the words until they were illegible. I didn't really need to study anyway. I'd read _Foundations of Psychology_ from cover to cover five times.

Another text came through and I ignored it. When I didn't answer the next one, my phone started buzzing with text after text before finally ringing.

"What?" I said when I picked up the phone.

"Where are you?"

"Studying at the library."

"Are you actually studying this time?"

I glanced down at my destroyed textbook. "More or less."

There was a long pause before Ethan asked, "Why didn't you respond to my texts?"

I didn't answer, because I didn't want to tell him the truth. He finally filled the silence asking, "Will you come home?"

I scratched the back of my head, sighed, and said, "I have my exam at three... I should probably keep studying."

"Okay." He waited three breaths before asking. "Will you come home after that?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, and hoped I wasn't lying.

* * * *

"How did your exam go?" Ethan asked when I walked in the door.

"Fine."

"Do you think you passed?"

"That's what fine means, right?" I tossed my textbook on the floor.

"I guess so." Ethan's words tapered off into silence. We looked at each other for a long moment. Both of us knew the discussion from last night wasn't over. Neither of us wanted to reopen it.

Ethan turned his back to me, resuming cooking something on the stove that I didn't feel like eating. Even the dogs were subdued, quietly chewing up the textbook I'd thrown to the floor. Ethan cleared his throat a few times, like he was going to say something, but he never did, and silence hung over us like the tacky lights blinking in the corner.

Finally, Ethan spoke. "They're lighting the tree downtown." He turned, his eyes searching mine desperately. "I mean, you love this Christmas stuff, so I thought you might want to go and watch."

"I don't love Christmas, I was doing it all for you."

"Huh?"

"You said your mom had never bothered to get a tree when you were a kid. I thought you deserved to have someone make the holidays special for you."

"Oh... Well fuck, that's actually sweet of you." He still looked more confused than pleased. "I thought you were just trying to annoy me."

"Nah, I already know enough ways to annoy you." I kicked at the textbook on the floor. "Believe it or not, I prefer to see you happy."

"Let's do it." Some of the lines in his forehead smoothed. "I mean, let's go and watch them light the tree."

He smiled, but his eyes had that slightly panicked look they got sometimes. He wasn't really inviting me to go see the tree, he was asking me to climb inside a bomb shelter where we could hide away from the explosive fight threatening to erupt between us.

I stood, kissed him on the forehead, and said, "Sure."

Ethan

The snow crunched beneath our boots as we walked behind the dogs in silence. More than anything, I just wanted to be back in our warm apartment getting work done. The deadline to map out the corporate charity was pressing in on me, and my mind kept going back to emails that I had to respond to. But even with the work piling up, I hadn't been able to get anything done that day.

My stomach had been in knots ever since I'd woken up and Nate had been gone. Something was definitely wrong, because he never got up before me. He was always up too late, thinking his strange thoughts.

It was painfully clear that he was avoiding me ever since we'd talked about having kids. I couldn't help feeling like this issue was going to hang over our heads for the rest of our lives. How fucking unfair was it that Nate and I had worked so hard on our relationship, only for it to be torn apart by something so stupid?

No, it wasn't stupid.

I kept reminding myself that it was important to Nate. I glanced over at him. He was lost in his own thoughts. Probably thinking about the same thing I was. I wondered what was more important to him: kids or me.

The crowd got thicker as we approached the waterfront park where a giant Christmas tree loomed. I grabbed a coffee from a vendor, and sipped at it to try to lift some of the exhaustion weighing down on me.

Half my coffee went spilling onto the sidewalk as Little pulled me forward. The dogs tugged on their leashes as they leapt after snowballs being thrown by three boys in snowsuits. I caught Nate's eye wandering toward them and quickly changed course. Nate and I meandered through the crowd in somber silence until a woman got on a microphone and announced that they were going to start lighting the tree.

The lights started at the bottom, climbing up as they twinkled to life. A hushed _ooh_ went through the crowd, and as we watched, a thought wouldn't stop growing in my mind.

"You don't have to stay with me."

"What?" Nate turned his face sharply.

"I was miserable with my ex, but I stayed because I thought I owed it to her." I bit my lip as if to keep the words from coming out. "If you ever feel that way, I want you to leave me."

He was silent as the Christmas tree grew brighter and brighter. The lights reached the top of the tree and the star at the top began to glow. Over the water, fireworks exploded..

"Let's go home." Nate turned and walked up the sidewalk, leaving me to run after him. My heart thudded in my chest. Why did I say that? If Nate actually left me... I didn't just love Nate, I knew how to love _because_ of him. No, it wasn't even just that—Nate was the first person who'd ever made me feel that I was worth loving. Yes, we constantly had to battle our selfishness and insecurities to have a relationship, but the point was we fought for it. And most days we won.

I followed behind him, waiting for him to say something, praying it wouldn't be the end of us. The light of the Christmas tree faded away as we walked through the dark. It was so quiet, I could practically hear snowflakes falling. I looked at Nate's lips and remembered all the times they'd pressed against mine, all the sweet, crazy things that tumbled out of them. Yes, I loved him. And I could never let him stay with me if he'd end up miserable.

My heartbeat was erratic as we entered our apartment building. I wanted to scream out, _we can adopt an entire orphanage, just don't leave me!_ The floors on the elevator ticked upward, marking off the moments until Nate would have to respond. The doors opened and he stepped out with me following behind him. I opened my mouth, fighting my urge to take back everything I'd said—but as soon as we got into our apartment, he pressed his lips against mine.

I inhaled a gasp, and couldn't catch my breath as he kissed me deeper, and deeper, forcing me against the wall. I had no idea where our relationship would be when this kiss ended, so I just kept kissing him. He tore my jacket off and threw it to the ground. Then his hands ran up my body, gripping my shirt and stripping it off me. The heat between us was overwhelming after the cold night air.

Our lips never broke contact as Nate dragged me into the bedroom by my belt, slamming the door so hard it rang through the apartment, sending the dogs into a barking frenzy. He kissed me like he would devour me. Like there would be nothing left of me when he was done.

His lips trailed down my jaw as he pushed me to the bed. My heaving chest pressed against his and that was enough to make me moan. If this was going to be the last time we did this, I was going to remember every moment of it, every brush of his skin.

Nate tore the last of our clothes off, and our breath synchronized as he pressed his body into mine, fumbling in the nightstand for lube as he continued kissing me, kissing me, kissing me, sucking the oxygen from my lungs and breathing it back in with every moan. He slicked his palm with lube before sliding it down my shaft. I clutched the sheets as he pressed our cocks together and began stroking them with both hands.

His gaze bored into me, but I had no clue what was going on in his head. I didn't want to know. I just wanted to feel him. I threw my arms around him and raked my fingernails down his back. He grunted at the sting, but a small smile spread across his face, and he pumped faster, stroking every thought out of my mind.

Just as I was about to lose control, he slid his cock between my thighs and he pressed into me. My mouth fell open in a long groan as he slid inside. The bed shook as he filled me with slow, forceful thrusts. I clung to his muscled back, bucking into him, begging for more. Always begging for more.

I looked into his eyes and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I could never love anyone like I loved Nate. No one would ever reach inside and shake me up the way he had. Nate had screamed his love into my face until I'd been forced to hear him. Yes, he was fucked. I was fucked. We were fucked. But good God, when we fucked...

I gripped his hair tight as a moan tore through me. The feeling of him inside me; his hand on my cock; his exhales steaming against my skin; it was too much. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold back, but when Nate's thighs quaked and his rhythm stutter, I fell to pieces. The entire universe disappeared. It was just us. Lost in each other's bodies.

* * * *

Slowly, the world faded back into existence. Nate was staring down at me, his face flushed, lips glowing, blond hair rumpled. I turned my head away because it hurt too much to look at him. My voice was soft, but stronger than I expected it to be when I asked, "So, are you going to respond to what I said?"

He put his elbows on either side of my head and leaned in until his lips brushed my cheek. "Do you honestly think I would ever leave you?"

My heart stopped as I looked into his eyes. My words came out slow and stumbling. "I just thought... I mean... I don't see how I can make you happy."

"If you ever say anything like that again, I'm going to tie you to the bed and let your dogs devour you." His arms pressed closer around my head and he stared into my eyes so intently, that I almost believed he was serious.

"You know, the things you say aren't nearly as romantic as you think they are."

"Since when have you been with me for the romance?"

A smile tugged at my lips. "Never."

Nate

I woke up at 8:00 a.m. on Christmas Eve, gripped by unfamiliar panic. Somehow I still hadn't found Ethan a gift. I'd spent weeks looking, but nothing had ever felt so elusive. I now had to find him a gift that would express that I wanted to be with him forever, on top of making up for twenty-six years of shitty Christmases with his parents.

I slipped out of bed, hoping I could sneak out of the apartment while he was showering, but when I went out to the living room, I found him slumped over his laptop, still in his clothes from the night before. It was the second time he'd fallen asleep at his laptop this week. After the disagreement we'd had about kids, he still wasn't himself. He was working even more than usual, rarely coming to bed. It killed me that he thought I would leave him because he didn't want kids. If there was one thing in this world I would never give up, it was Ethan.

"Hey." I shook his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" He bolted up instantly and slammed his laptop closed.

"You fell asleep again."

"Right." He let out a yawn and rubbed his eyes, but one hand stayed protectively over his computer.

"Go to bed."

"Aren't you supposed to be younger than me? Why are you so bossy?"

I shrugged. "Because you listen."

"Hah." He stood, picked up his laptop, and disappeared into the bedroom. I waited for a moment, but instead of the sound of snoring, the soft _click click click_ of the keyboard came through the door.

I thought about barging in there and stealing his laptop so he'd be forced to sleep, but that would definitely lead to either a fight or sex, and I didn't have time for either. I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, painfully aware of how little time I had left to figure something out for Christmas.

I wasted the first hour driving around aimlessly until I ended up at the mall. Why were stores full of such worthless shit? I poked through a display of calendars, and grabbed one full of photos of puppies.

As soon as I got out of the store, I tore the calendar up and threw it in the trash. How would a calendar make him happy? How would _any_ of this crap make him happy?

I kept browsing the stores that were packed with people as fucked as I was. Three guys in the jewelry store were pulling out their credit cards to max them out on last minute Christmas gifts. If only Ethan were a woman. I could just get him a diamond necklace. There was no way he'd want any of the tie clips or cufflinks glittering in the display cabinet. Since he'd started working from home, Ethan rarely even got dressed, let alone decked himself out in shiny bobbles.

I walked past the electronics store for the fifth time, and finally accepted that whatever I was looking for, I wouldn't find in the mall. I felt as hopeless as I had before I'd met Ethan; like I was of searching desperately for something without knowing what I was trying to find.

A shrill whine caught my ear, and I turned to see a pen of dogs in the pet store window. Suddenly, it hit me.

* * * *

I couldn't contain my excitement as I stepped into our apartment carrying a box with a giant red bow on it. Ethan was working at the table as usual. I thrust the box at him.

"Open it!"

"It's not Christmas yet," he said, sipping his coffee.

"Yeah, but she can't stay in the box all night."

He looked up suddenly, eyes wide. "You didn't buy me another dog, did you?"

"Nope."

The box started barking and I grinned.

"Jesus, not again." Ethan opened the flaps of the box, freeing the little spotted puppy inside. "Please stop buying me dogs."

"I said I didn't buy you a dog."

"Clearly you did!"

"Nope." My grin widened. "I bought _us_ a dog."

"Huh?"

I took the little ball of fur from his arms. "Now we have a dog together, so you know I can't ever leave you."

"How is it that even when you're sweet, you're annoying?"

"Shut up. You love it."

He smiled slowly. "Yeah, I do."

"I already picked out a name for her, since you still haven't named any of your dogs."

"I don't know why you think my dogs don't have names."

"You wanna meet all your brothers, Winny?" I stooped onto the floor so that Ethan's dogs could get a look at her. They nosed curiously toward her, and she stared back with calm, patient eyes. She was an old dog, less likely to have been adopted than a puppy, but she had a gentle energy that our home needed.

"I guess I have to give you your gift now." Ethan disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a stack of papers, which he handed to me.

"What's this?" I thumbed through what looked to be legal documents, feeling painfully bored just touching them.

"Read the heading." Ethan flipped back to the first page and pointed to the part that read _Request of Charitable Organization Status for Reach Youth Shelter._

"I don't get it," I admitted, flipping through the pages again.

"It's the charity I'm setting up for your dad's company."

"You mean the environmental thing?"

"No." Ethan shook his head. "It's a kid thing now... and when you graduate, you can work there as a therapist, or counselor, or whatever you want. You can have hundreds of kids."

I stared down at the papers that had seemed completely worthless seconds ago. Ethan looked at me expectantly, eyes begging me to say something.

"This is the most amazing thing I've ever been given," I murmured.

A smile spread across Ethan's face, lighting it up brighter than any Christmas tree. Sometimes he was so fucking beautiful that I just wanted to smash his face in.

"I had to rush to get it done," he said. "I was supposed to have everything filed before the new year."

"That's why you've been working so much." I looked at his disheveled hair and drooping eyes, realizing now that his exhaustion had all been for me.

"I just want you to be happy." His voice became hushed. "And more specifically, I want you to be happy with me."

"I honestly don't think I knew the meaning of that word until I met you." I took his chin in my hands and lost myself in the softness of his lips. He kissed me back with all the need pent up inside him.

I heard crumpling and looked down to see the dogs tearing at Ethan's gift to me. I tried to grab up the papers, but that only made the dogs want them more, each one grabbing a mouthful and dodging away into a different corner of the room.

"Get back here you little assholes." I grabbed one of the little ones and tried to wrestle the papers out of his mouth.

"Now you know how I feel trying to stop your destruction all the time." Ethan laughed. "Don't worry, that was just a copy."

"Oh." I dropped the puppy to the ground and let him run under the tree where he began shredding the papers into pieces. "Hey, he's making snowflakes."

Ethan's lips quirked into a reluctant smile. "That is seriously the ugliest tree I have ever seen in my life."

"Yeah," I admitted. "But this is probably the best Christmas I can remember."

"Definitely."

The End

Let's Not Go Crazy is the fourth installment of Figuring Out Everything Between Us, which Follows Nate and Ethan as they grapple with their own dysfunction in their journey to love one another. Want to know how Nate and Ethan got to this point in their relationship? Read the rest of their story in Everything Between Us
**About Stephen Hoppa**

Stephen Hoppa is an author of gay romance who sometimes doubts his own existence. He writes sexy stories about boys kissing and more, because he think sex and love are magic. He writes flawed, broken characters who go beyond shades of grey into completely technicoloured morality, because rainbows are the sh*t. (He also writes gratuitous smut...)

You can subscribe to his mailing list for new releases and freebies!

### Captain Jack and the Snack Attack

By Addison Albright

About the Story

When Gordie spots the perfect Christmas gift for his sister at a charity silent auction, he's disappointed to be thwarted by a better-funded bidder who also has his eye on the signed and framed movie poster featuring Captain Jack Sparrow. When he and Kenton meet again, Gordie isn't going to let a little disappointment get between him and a potential date. Still, Gordie wants to erase the unfortunate image of his first impression and can't decide on the proper etiquette for a first date that is mere days before Christmas. To gift, or not to gift?

When their first date is derailed by Captain Jack, Kenton's wayward kitten, the guys make the best of a silly situation. They overcome a serious case of the munchies, an untimely interruption from an ornery ball of fur, and uncover a shared sense of humor, and a desire for more.

* * * *

Captain Jack and the Snack Attack

"No, no, no!" Gordie Triggs grumbled as he elbowed his best friend, Claire. His light brown hair swung across his brow as he cocked his head toward Mr. Short-Pale-and-Stunningly-Handsome, fifty yards away on the other side of the convention hall. "Dammit! He's going back."

Claire turned to look at the man as he headed back to the signed _Dead Men Tell No Tales_ movie poster Gordie had bid on. Gordie would've bet his left nut the well-fitting navy suit the guy wore was an Armani G-Line.

"Bastard." Her mutter _might_ have held a hint of sarcasm. Her side-eye _definitely_ did. "Who does he think he is, anyway?"

The upbeat tempo of The Beach Boys singing "Little Saint Nick" mocked him right along with Claire. Of course he knew Mr. Blond-and-Gorgeous had every right to outbid him, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. He shook out his hands and slowly exhaled. "I don't have a chance, do I?"

"I did warn you."

Gordie nodded glumly. The grocery chain's annual silent auction charity fundraiser was mostly populated by their own upper management and that of the sales and marketing teams of their vendors. Claire had scored a couple tickets and a voucher toward her bids as a reward for being employee of the year at one of the stores.

Point being, most of the people here had deeper pockets than Gordie did as a veterinary technician. Much deeper, as evidenced by the expensive-looking suit on Mr. Totally-Unconcerned-Someone-Kept-Upping-the-Bid. Not to mention, it was for charity, so it was supposed to be all in good fun.

"Well," he said. "It's already more than I'd usually spend for Genna's Christmas gift, but I can go a little higher." Genna was his twin sister, and they shared a love—lust—for all things Captain Jack Sparrow. That poster would be perfect for her present.

"That's the spirit. And those tickets to see _Hamilton_ in June are still in your range. She'd like that, too."

"I doubt they'll stay in my reach. Not a chance, in fact."

Claire shrugged and nodded toward the adjacent table. "I'll bet this one hundred-bottle microbrew sampler will."

"Maybe." Gordie gazed longingly across the room, and Johnny Depp seemed to stare back, taunting him. Daring him to try again.

"And either of those two could be 'couples gifts' for both Genna and Derek, so you could factor that into your bid price."

"I'm going to give the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ poster one more shot."

"Pace yourself." Claire placed a hand on his forearm. "Let the guy wander off. Maybe he'll get distracted. You should wait 'til closer to the end."

"I need to leave enough time to try for something else if he outbids me. There's some unique stuff here—things I'd never find out shopping."

"I know, right? I want to get my dad that catered tailgate party."

"But you bid on that gift basket full of spa crap."

"Yeah, yeah." She absently brushed a pretend crumb off her sleeve. "I'm letting luck decide for me. If I get outbid, I'll go for the dad-gift. If not, that's providence telling me I deserve to be spoiled."

He rolled his eyes since she was looking away. There was plenty to distract them. Table after table was covered in drool-worthy merchandise and services. Convention center employees bustled back and forth converting the picked-over dinner buffet to a dessert spread.

"Come on. I want to see what the poster's up to." They zigzagged around tables laden with everything from autographed sports memorabilia to Tiffany-style lamps. When Gordie spied the new bid, he blew out a relieved sigh. "He only upped it by ten dollars. Maybe he's reaching his limit."

"Or maybe he's flirting with you—wants you to notice him and keep coming back."

"Oh, for fu—" Gordie bit off the rest. They were at a charity auction, after all. "He's a straight guy. Probably wants the poster for one of his kids."

"Lighten up. At least have fun imagining it. Why assume he's straight? He could be gay, or maybe bi."

"The laws of probability are on my side. Besides, why would _he_ assume _I'm_ gay? I'm here with you."

"The laws of party-pooper are on your side." Claire sniffed. "Anyone who sees you drooling over Captain Jack is gonna suspect. Why don't you admit it, you're hung up on this poster because you want to be able to visit it on a regular basis."

Gordie ignored her comments, partly because it would be dishonest to deny any of it. Better to pretend he was taking the high road, refusing to be baited. "Come on. We haven't seen all the gift baskets yet."

As they wandered, they worked out their final strategy. Ten minutes before the bidding closed, they'd make their last and best bids on their first-choice auction items—the signed _Dead Men Tell No Tales_ movie poster for Gordie—er—Genna, and the tailgate party for Claire's dad since fate had apparently decided she didn't need to be pampered with that basket o' spa crap. After that, they'd head for their second choices, products that were more likely to remain in their budget. They would only place those bids if they spotted someone outbidding them on their preferred items.

At the agreed upon time, they separated to place their last-ditch effort bids. Some of Gordie's concerns faded when he saw nobody else had piled on after Mr. Smokin'-Hot-In-His-Armani-Suit's last bid. He placed his auction identification sticker on the paper and wrote in his new offer. He upped the bid by another twenty dollars, a number that seemed weak in this situation, yet outrageous compared to what he'd typically spend on Genna's Christmas gift.

"Please," he muttered, then stepped back. He glanced around, and his shoulders slumped when he spotted _him_ —his new arch-nemesis—staring back. When the guy noticed that Gordie had spotted him, he grinned, and—dammit—started walking toward Gordie and Captain Jack.

Having a good-looking guy beam such an open and friendly smile at him would usually have Gordie's eyebrows popping up with an "I'm interested. Are you?" slant as he returned the smile. Instead, Mr. Affable-Deep-Pockets got a scowl in return. A short-lived grimace, granted, because Gordie spun on his heel and stalked toward the table with the microbrew sampler.

Halfway there the surge of unreasonable irritation drained away, and he felt like an ass for his childish knee-jerk reaction. Captain Jack Sparrow's own words came to mind: "The problem is not the problem; the problem is your _attitude_ about the problem." Hell, he even had a T-shirt with those immortal and remarkably wise words emblazoned across it.

His hands fell to his sides as he stopped and stared at the floor. Truth be told, the guy was doing him a favor. He'd bid way more than he should have done for that gift. Sure, Genna would have loved it, but she and Derek would both enjoy the gift basket. And it was a _charity_ auction for goodness' sake. The whole point of the event was to raise as much money as possible.

He took a deep cleansing breath, squared his shoulders, and turned back toward the poster. His competition wrote a new bid on the sheet and straightened. The man scanned the room. When his gaze landed on Gordie he paused, his face neutral.

Gordie held the stare for a moment before offering a feeble smile and lopsided shrug that he hoped would be interpreted as an apology. The man's flush was noticeable on his pale skin, otherwise he gave no discernible reaction to Gordie's effort.

Mr. Soon-To-Be-the-Proud-Owner-of-Captain-Jack's-Drool-Worthy-Image kept his pretty blue eyes—that so perfectly matched the towering waves in the poster behind him—locked in a stare-down with Gordie's. Fuck it. Gordie mouthed, "Good luck," and turned to focus on not walking away from the auction completely empty-handed.

He added a bid on the big microbrew sampler and stepped away. He caught Claire's gaze and flashed her an a-okay sign. Since she was tracking two auctions that were close to each other, she hung near her first-choice item. Unlike Gordie, she still had room to up her offer if necessary. She sent him a thumbs-up in return.

Gordie stole a peek at the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ poster. The beautiful blond guy stood nearby. Yeah, Gordie'd never had a chance with that poster—not when it was what a man who could afford an Armani suit chose to hover near as the event wound down its final minutes.

In the end, the whole drama concluded anticlimactically—at least for Gordie. Mr. Oblivious-to-the-Fact-He'd-Be-the-Star-of-Gordie's-Private-Spank-the-Frank-Session-Later-Tonight executed a subdued fist pump when the bell rang ending the auction. Claire bounced a few times, and Gordie was...satisfied. If it hadn't been for the out of proportion hope he'd let overpower his good sense, he'd be thrilled with Genna and Derek's gift basket. No doubt by this time tomorrow he'd be properly tickled by the beer collection. _They_ would be when they opened it in a couple weeks.

"This was fun!" Claire gushed. "Come on." She pulled him toward the table that now held a wide variety of dessert options. Apparently, the spread was to keep the auction-goers happy while the bid sheets were collected and tabulated.

Gordie patted his lean belly as they stood in front of the assortment of fruits, holiday themed cakes, bars, pies, and cookies. "Not sure how much room I've got left after that buffet."

Claire snorted, of course. He'd expected no less. The dinner buffet had ended more than an hour ago, and she was well aware—and quite jealous—of Gordie's high metabolism. "One of these days this is going to catch up with you."

"I know, I know. And you'll be there happily preaching, 'I told you so.'"

She muttered something about life being unfair as she selected some fresh fruit, and narrowed her eyes when Gordie picked up a slice of yule log cake, a couple peanut butter cookies with Hershey's kisses jammed in the middle of them, and a few dipped pretzel rods covered with a thick layer of sprinkles.

Captain Jack Sparrow gazed back with taunting eyes when Gordie took one last covetous look at him before turning back to Claire with a grin. "You're right. This _was_ fun. Thank you for bringing me."

* * * *

Gordie's head bopped to Eartha Kitt's _Santa Baby_ as he picked up the clipboard with the new patient's information sheet and leaned against the door frame while he read it. The owner had filled in the basics with a heavy, neatly printed style. He snickered at the first line. _Pet's Name: Captain Jack_. He liked the owner already.

There wasn't much additional info on the sheet yet other than the pet's species (cat), sex (male), age (seven weeks old), and how long he'd been owned (one week). Nothing listed under breed. Gordie would fill in the weight shortly—that and the first immunization info. Given the kitten's age, Dr. Dalton would give him his initial combination vaccine today. A single name—Kenton Fairburn—was listed as owner for the kitten.

Gordie shoved off from the door frame as the song switched to Amy Winehouse's _I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus_ and stepped across the reception office to enter the waiting room. He plastered a smile on his face and announced, "Kenton and Captain Jack?" The words were out of his mouth before he even glanced around the room. When he did, he stopped short with his mouth hanging open.

Perhaps it could be considered a small comfort that Mr. Beautiful-Ocean-Blue-Eyes, aka Kenton Fairburn, was also momentarily dumbfounded. He wasn't wearing an Armani suit today. No suit at all, in fact. Just a quality pair of khaki trousers and a neatly pressed, slim-fitting aqua-colored polo shirt. An actual Ralph Lauren complete with the pony logo and a sprinkling of white fur, no doubt courtesy of Captain Jack.

Gordie recovered first, and his smile morphed from a professional cheery sort to a more relaxed "hey, fancy meeting you here" grin. Kenton's return smile was better than the neutral mask Gordie had last seen, but considerably more guarded than the open and friendly smile he'd first received from the man before he'd blown it with his thoughtless, petulant scowl. The man's fingers were stuck through the holes in the steel wire door of the carrier, comforting the meowing kitten.

"Hello, Kenton. I'm Gordon Triggs—Gordie—and I'll be assisting Dr. Dalton with Captain Jack's examination today." He gestured toward the scales on the other side of the room. "Let's get the little guy weighed, then we'll head back to an exam room."

"Nice to meet you, Gordie." Kenton picked up the pet carrier and followed.

Setting up the clinic's holiday tree so close to the pet scales probably wasn't the cleverest move the reception staff had ever made, considering how distracted many of the animals became when Gordie weighed them, but that shouldn't become an issue with such a young kitten. "You can put the carrier down here." Gordie patted the countertop next to the scale he used for smaller animals.

Kenton did as directed, popped open the latch, and cooed as he peered into the carrier. He pulled out the kitten and held him, nuzzling his fuzzy little face to calm the incessant meows before gently handing the tiny furball to Gordie.

Carefully lifting him to eye level, Gordie tutted, "Look at those beautiful blue eyes." His white fur with dark stripes was the perfect backdrop. "He's adorable. Where'd you get this little guy? Shelters don't usually give them away this young."

"A friend of my brother took in a pregnant homeless cat. They were going to wait a few more weeks before giving away the kittens, but the mama started rejecting them."

Gordie set him on the scale. The meowing recommenced, and he quickly made a mental note of the weight. "So, 'Captain Jack,' huh?" He flashed Kenton a grin as he picked up the kitten.

Kenton blushed and seemed to fight a smile, but lost the battle. "Yeah. I guess you already know I'm a huge fan."

"Actually, I'd convinced myself you were trying to win it for one of your kids or something." No, he wasn't fishing...much. It was all Gordie could do to not roll his eyes at himself.

"Me?" Kenton laughed as Gordie handed back the kitten. "Heck no, I don't have kids. I'm...uh...single." He held Gordie's gaze as he said those last three words.

Second chances didn't drop into Gordie's lap very often. He wasn't about to blow this one. He couldn't overtly or directly hit on one of the clinic's clients without risking his job, but he could make his return interest clear and cross his fingers that Kenton would follow through. This time he properly returned the "yeah, I'm interested," look and paired it with what he hoped was more of a smile than a leer. "So am I."

Gordie made some notes on the information sheet, and Dr. Dalton joined them in the exam room moments after Gordie got them settled. He glanced at the page and chuckled. "I'm a Torchwood fan, too."

Kenton looked up from where he was burrowing his face into Captain Jack's neck long enough to nod. "I loved that show."

"Oh, yeah," Gordie said. "Captain Jack Harkness. I was thinking Sparrow, but they're both cool."

"Both worthy of the namesake," Kenton said. He handed the kitten over to Gordie's waiting hands after one last snuggle and coo. Their fingers brushed along one another, and Gordie's breath caught at the unexpected tingle. He gave Kenton a reassuring smile as their eyes locked. Although the kitten remained quiet while either of them held him, he immediately started mewing pitifully when placed on the table.

"They're an eccentric pair, that's for sure." Dr. Dalton got busy probing and assessing the kitten as Kenton hovered nearby. He checked inside the teeny furball's mouth, looked at his eyes and ears, and listened to his heart and lungs. When he finished, he gave Gordie the okay to prepare the vaccine.

Gordie carefully held the kitten in place while Kenton leaned down and made soothing noises in his face. The little guy didn't seem to even notice when the thin needle slipped into his hindquarters.

The appointment was over in a flash. Dr. Dalton bustled out while Gordie disposed of the used syringe. He lingered to wipe the counter as Kenton quietly petted Captain Jack and slipped him into his carrier. Would this be it? They'd maybe cross paths again for the kitten's rabies shot in five weeks? Kenton had certainly shown interest when they'd locked eyes earlier. Surely the man realized Gordie couldn't make the next move.

"Um." Gordie cleared his throat and offered up a hopeful smile. "Well, it was nice to officially meet you, Kenton. Have you hung your poster yet?"

"Yeah, I've got the whole series now." Kenton paused with his hand on the carrier and regarded Gordie with his head thoughtfully tilted. "Would...um...would you like to go out to dinner with me?"

Gordie's optimistic smile transformed into a cheery grin as the tightness in his shoulders relaxed. "That'd be great. Yeah, I'd like that."

Kenton pulled out his phone. "What's your number? I'll text you later tonight and we'll set something up."

Gordie gave him the number, then floated happily through the rest of the day, his mood lifted simply by the promise of a date.

* * * *

"Seriously?" Claire said. "Armani suit guy?"

"I know, right?" Gordie replied.

"Who the hell is Armani suit guy?" Claire's husband, Oscar put the pizza box on the coffee table and plopped into the armchair across from them.

She glibly waved a hand. "From that auction Gordie rescued you from having to attend with me."

"Gaaaawd! Thanks for that, man. Guess it worked out for you if you scored a date, though."

"I want to know how that happened," Claire said. "You never said two words to him there. I'd have seen it." She thumped Gordie's arm. "And I told you so, didn't I?"

"He showed up at the clinic. And, yes, you called it." Gordie widened his eyes and nudged her with a knee as he intoned, "You were right, I was wrong. Happy?"

She leveled a squinty look in his direction that told him she'd make an effective mom some day. "I'll be happy when you drop that sarcastic tone."

"Where are you going on the date?" Oscar nudged the open box toward Gordie. "Have some."

Even though the pizza was veggie lovers, Gordie didn't need to be told twice. "The Urban Grill in Urbandale."

"Swanky." Claire raised an eyebrow. "And a bit of a drive. You meeting him there?"

Gordie shook his head. "He has a house here in Altoona. We'll meet up there and go to the restaurant together."

Oscar smirked, but didn't say anything.

"It's not like that," Gordie said. "It makes sense to carpool since it's a half hour drive to get to the restaurant. Besides, he's gonna show me the posters. He's got the full set—all signed and framed."

"All five of the _Pirates_ movie posters?" Claire asked.

"Yeah, and get this..." Gordie widened his eyes again, leaned forward, and continued with a conspiratorial timbre to his voice. "He named his kitten 'Captain Jack.'"

"Damn, he's as big a fan as you." Oscar chuckled. "And an animal lover. You should see your face when you're talking about him. I know you've got interests in common, but you really _like_ this guy."

Gordie groaned. "You should've seen him cooing at that little ball of fur."

"How someone treats animals tells a lot about them." Claire patted his knee. "Just be yourself, sweetie. If he doesn't like the real you, it'll fail in the end anyway."

"I know." Gordie slouched into the cushions and stared out the window at the light flurry of snowflakes. "I'm so tired of dead-end dates. I want him to be more than a hookup, but I don't know if he's even looking for more than that." He straightened and looked at Oscar. "Maybe you're right about why he wants me to meet him at his house. Maybe that's the end goal."

Oscar shook his head and stretched a long leg across the divide to tap the side of Gordie's foot. "No, I was messing with you. He didn't pick you up in a bar. You said he did the asking, right? I bet he asked you out for the same reasons you wanted him to."

"Doesn't mean he doesn't also want to get into your pants," Claire added. "But, that's not a bad thing, is it? Not as long as that's not the only thing he's after."

"True," Gordie said. "I still don't know what to do about the timing."

"What do you mean?" Claire asked.

"The date. It's the Friday before Christmas."

Oscar shrugged. "So?"

"So, what's the etiquette for Christmas gifts on a first date? We _have_ met, but it would still be weird to get him any kind of real gift, yet showing up with nothing seems...not quite right."

"A bottle of wine?" Oscar suggested.

"No, dinner isn't at Armani guy's house." Claire turned to Gordie. "What's his name, anyway?"

"Kenton."

"Okay, so unless you want to imply to Kenton that you expect to be invited in after dinner—which, don't get me wrong, might be how you'd both like the date to end anyway—but it might make him think it's all you're after."

"No," Oscar said. "I wouldn't assume that if it were me being handed the bottle."

"Well I would," Claire said.

"Fine." Gordie swallowed his last bite of pizza and wiped his mouth. "No wine, because I don't know how he might interpret it."

"Don't get anything, then," Oscar said. "It's a first date. You don't want him to feel bad if he didn't get something for you."

"Good point," Claire said.

"But what if he does, and I don't?"

"You're overthinking," She replied. "He probably won't, and like Oscar said, then it'll be awkward if you do."

"I know, but you're the one that said I should be myself, and _I_ would feel weird showing up for a date three days before Christmas without _some_ kind of small token gift."

"Emphasis on 'small' and 'token.'" Claire pointed the remaining crust of her pizza slice at him. "Don't scare him away."

* * * *

Kenton's house was modest in size, neither tiny nor remotely pretentious. Gordie breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of it, which was odd because he hadn't consciously realized he'd been stressed about the apparent inequality in their financial positions.

Not that Gordie lived in poverty—he had a respectable career that he loved—but he'd never get rich as a veterinary technician. He could afford to live in a decent but by no means high-end apartment, pay his bills, and have a little left over for extras. That was all he required, and he would never give up the job he loved just to make more money.

He was happy with his financial situation and wasn't looking for a sugar daddy. He'd always imagined partnering up with someone enjoying a similar place in life, but with a dating pool already significantly smaller than it was for straight people, it would be stupid to let ego silliness get in the way of a potential relationship.

The house was in a nice, middle-class neighborhood that seemed to be well-maintained. It was difficult to tell in December with the vegetation dormant, but judging by the orderliness of the holiday decorations adorning the homes, that supposition was a fairly safe bet.

Kenton had lights wound around the supports flanking the landing leading to his front door. Simple, but cheery. Gordie snickered when he spotted a replica of the "major award" sexy leg lamp made famous in _A Christmas Story_ prominently displayed in a front window. Yet another reason to like the guy—a shared sense of humor and a mutual love of yet another brilliant movie.

Gordie stepped out of his car and blew out a shaky breath. "Just be yourself," he muttered. Claire was right about that. She was right about a lot of things. He patted his coat pocket where the small gift he'd purchased lay hidden for the moment. Small and cheap. When he'd seen it, he'd known it was the perfect gift so as not to be caught empty-handed, yet not anything that would make Kenton feel embarrassed even though he most likely had nothing to give Gordie in return.

The door swiftly opened after Gordie rang the bell. The wide grin on Gordie's face fell when he saw the agitated expression on Kenton's. "Everything okay?"

"Yes...no...well, probably? Sorry..." Kenton stepped back and lifted an arm to the side. "Come on in. I'll explain."

Gordie pushed the door closed behind him. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Actually, yeah, you probably can. Here, let me have your coat." He hung it in the foyer closet and turned back to Gordie. "I'm worried about Captain Jack. I can't find him anywhere."

"Ah." That wasn't unusual or particularly dangerous, unless... "Is there any chance he got outside?"

"That's why I'm a little freaked out. I went out back early in the afternoon to bring in some firewood. I didn't notice him getting out, but he's never gone into hiding like this before. I've looked everywhere. I can't figure out where he could be."

The kitchen was immediately to the left of the entryway. Straight ahead the space opened up into a dining-slash-great room. The back wall facing them had a sliding glass door opening to a back patio on the left-hand dining side of the large room, and a fireplace flanked by a couple small windows to its right. A small Christmas tree marked the border between the open spaces. On the wall to the right, Kenton's collection of _Pirates of the Caribbean_ movie posters hung in a proudly displayed row. They ignored _that_ Jack and his pals and headed for the sliding glass door where they stopped and peered out.

A security floodlight lit the backyard. Unfortunately, there wasn't any snow on the ground or the question of whether or not the kitten had escaped would have been easy to answer. A six-foot high wooden privacy fence enclosed the space. Gordie craned his neck, trying to get a peek at the front portions of fencing. "Are there any gaps, or dips under the fence he could fit through? An older cat—especially one with claws—could easily get over it, but I don't think Captain Jack would yet."

Kenton blew out a heavy breath. "Good. I wasn't sure. I checked all around and don't think he could squeeze out anywhere."

To one side, a wide, raised rack held wood for the fireplace. A cover protected the top portion from the elements. There appeared to be a gap between the rack and the fence behind it. Not big enough for a human to squeeze through, but small cats certainly could. "You looked behind that wood pile?"

"Yeah. And I pulled off the cover to make sure he wasn't up in there somehow."

"Good." Gordie pointed to some evergreens to their right. "And you probably checked around those bushes?"

"Yes."

The trees in the backyard were bare of leaves, and if the kitten had managed to climb one, he'd have been easy to spot and yowling for help long before now. "Okay, odds are he didn't get out in the first place, and it sounds like you've checked it pretty thoroughly."

Kenton nodded, but his scrunched brow seemed to indicate he wasn't convinced—or at least not placated.

"But, you're not going to be able to enjoy yourself if you leave the house before he surfaces." Gordie didn't bother adjusting his tone as if it were a question. It wasn't. It was an observation.

"I need to be here in case he's out there and comes to the door." Kenton's voice was soft and apologetic. "He's never gone into hiding like this before. I've tried everything, even shaking the bag of kitty treats he loves."

"Do...um...do you want me to go, or would you like some company?" Gordie tensed, waiting for the decision. "Maybe I could help you take another look around the house?"

"Would you?" Kenton placed a hand on Gordie's arm. "Stay, that is."

"Of course." Because, really, even though Gordie was 99.9 percent sure the kitten was safely tucked away in some hidey hole they might never discover and would resurface in his own good time, it warmed his heart that Kenton cared enough to be so concerned. Or maybe it was the hand lingering on his biceps that warmed him. Or both.

"Thank you." Kenton sighed and looked toward an opening on the dining room side of the house. "I have a couple bedrooms back there. Well, technically they're bedrooms, but I use the larger front room as a sitting room—it's where I have my TV. The back room is my home office. There's a bathroom between them."

"Okay. Let's take one room at a time and do a detailed search."

Kenton's office didn't take long. The kitten couldn't fit behind the bookcase, he wasn't under the credenza or desk, and Kenton hadn't opened the closet all day. Other than taking a close look at the lower sections of the linen closet, the bathroom was easy, too.

The front sitting room had a couple recliners with a narrow side table between them facing the wall-mounted widescreen TV. The sexy leg lamp he'd spotted from the driveway stood on a plant stand in front of the window. "Did you check in those?" Gordie pointed at the recliners.

"In? Damn. No. I just checked underneath."

They stretched them out, reached up the back and poked around. They found plenty of crumbs and a few coins, but no Captain Jack.

"Sorry," Kenton muttered, brushing off his hand on his pants.

Gordie blinked, trying not to imagine those hands gliding over his body. Given Kenton's state of mind, romantic overtures would probably be counter-productive. Instead, he snorted. "I've never even thought about cleaning back there with my recliner. I shudder to think what I'd find."

The attempt at a joke didn't cheer Kenton, though. His shoulders slumped. "We can check my bedroom and the laundry. I haven't opened the door into the garage and storage area today."

"He'll show up soon," Gordie said. "I'm confident of that. Really, this isn't unusual behavior for a cat."

"I'm overreacting, aren't I?" Kenton huffed out a sigh. "And ruining our date. _First_ date. Impressive, huh?"

"Nothing's ruined, and I've already taken the prize for crappy first impressions in this relationship."

Kenton laughed and walked toward the door. "Come on."

Gordie's gaze lingered on Kenton's ass before forcing his line of sight upward as he followed Kenton through the central, open living spaces. On the other side of the house, the garage stuck out the front of the house, but had been inaccessible to the cat. The door to the laundry room had a cat door installed in it. Inside the room a litter box was under a sorting table. The only place to hide would be behind the machines. A quick look ruled that out.

"I don't think he's been in here," Kenton said. "I smoothed out the litter earlier. He hasn't walked in it since then. Plus, I would've heard that cat flap if he'd gone in or out."

"The bedroom's probably the best bet," Gordie said. "Closets are prime hiding places, and they'll get up inside box springs, too."

Kenton shook his head as they entered the master bedroom. "It's a platform bed. No box springs."

It was a sturdy bed with a rustic panel headboard, drawers at the foot of the platform, and stout legs. Even with long off-white filmy curtains decorating the shuttered windows, the room still had a very masculine feel.

Gordie dropped down to check underneath the bed and dresser, then joined Kenton in the walk-in closet. "He's not under the furniture."

Kenton looked up from where he squatted, rooting around plastic shoe boxes.

When Gordie's stomach let loose a thunderous growl lasting a solid five seconds, his eyes widened, and he muttered, "Sorry."

"Oh, man. No, _I'm_ sorry." Kenton stood. "I was hoping he'd surface soon and we'd still make it out there for dinner, but it's not fair to make you keep waiting."

"It's okay. Really. I'm a bottomless pit. My friend, Claire, is always saying I have a hollow leg. Trust me, I eat plenty, and I'm not gonna starve tonight. I'm cool with waiting out Captain Jack."

"Come on." Kenton hitched his head and Gordie followed. "I've got food in the kitchen."

Kenton pointed at a pantry door. "Sorry, it would take too long to make a decent meal, but I've got soups, mac and cheese, and cans of ravioli and Beefaroni in there."

"Seriously, I'll be fine." But, it sounded like junk food heaven, just the thing to satisfy an acute snack attack. He gnawed his lip and willed his stomach not to betray him again.

Ignoring him, Kenton opened the freezer drawer at the bottom of his refrigerator. "Bagel Bites or Pizza Rolls?"

Gordie perked up. "Yeah?"

Kenton grinned. "Did I say the magic words? Which one—or some of each?"

"Will you eat, too? I don't want to put you through the hassle—"

"Stop it." Kenton pulled out both packages and turned on the oven. "I'm hungry, too."

Gordie's stomach rumbled again so he didn't bother trying to decline the offer. "Thanks. We can always take a raincheck on The Urban Grill."

"I'd like that." Kenton held his gaze for a few seconds, and some of the tightness left Gordie's shoulders. Clearly, Kenton wanted this as much as he did.

After popping the finger food into the oven, they moved into the great room to wait. Kenton stepped to the fireplace as Gordie studied the poster he'd coveted so hard displayed in its rightful place alongside the first four in the set. "I'm glad you won."

Kenton laughed as he stacked wads of paper and kindling onto the grate. "I'm not gonna lie. So am I."

Gordie sat in the middle of the large u-shaped sectional sofa facing the fireplace as Kenton got the fire going and started some music. To his right, in _The Curse of the Black Pearl_ and _Dead Man's Chest_ posters, Captain Jack Sparrow stared out as if daring Gordie to put a move on Kenton. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen. Either he would wait until the kitten situation was resolved, or Kenton relaxed enough to make the move himself.

Jack Sparrow seemed rather disgusted with that resolve, unable to even look at him in _At World's End_. Kenton joined him on the sofa. "Do you really think he's safe inside somewhere?"

"Most likely."

Kenton stared into Gordie's eyes for a few moments and opened his mouth to say something, but the oven timer interrupted him. He hopped up. "Be right back."

Gordie followed. "Need help carrying anything?"

"Actually, yeah." Kenton handed him a couple potholders. "Take care of this, and I'll open some wine."

Apparently "Prosecco" was what paired with Bagel Bites and Pizza Rolls. Or more likely it was what Kenton happened to have on hand. Gordie transferred the hot appetizers to a platter and carried that and a couple small plates to the great room. Lifting a champagne flute for a toast, Gordie said, "Here's to Captain Jack, who, if he's anything like the one adorning your wall, probably planned this night."

Kenton chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised. He's an ornery little cuss."

Words weren't needed as Manheim Steamroller's version of _Carol of the Bells_ played in the background, a fire crackled on the grate warming them, a good wine relaxed them, and a gazillion empty calories began a journey through their digestive systems.

Kenton stared at the now-closed draperies covering the sliding glass door as Gordie took his final bite. "I almost asked Dr. Dalton about microchipping Captain Jack at that appointment, but I'd done some research and decided against it. I intend for him to be an indoor cat so I didn't think it was worth the risk. Now I wonder."

"He doesn't usually ask owners about that 'til it's time to neuter the cat unless he knows it'll be outdoors. Don't beat yourself up about it. The odds he's outside now are far closer to none than slim. The chip wouldn't do any good unless he was found, anyway, and at least at that point he'd be safe regardless."

"True."

"It _can_ be done at this age, but like you said, it might not be worth the risk for an indoor cat. Maybe you'd be better off with a bell collar. Then if he follows you out you'll hear him."

"Not to mention I'd know if he was moving around right now in one of the other rooms."

When they returned the empty plates to the large square coffee table, Kenton refilled their glasses, and they leaned back and patted their bellies.

"Thank you," Gordie said. "That hit the spot."

"You sure?" Kenton waggled his eyebrows. "Maybe you've got another 'spot' that needs help?"

A slow grin spread across Gordie's face. "Yeah?" He took another drink and put his glass down. "I think we can probably help each other out with that...itch."

Kenton kicked off his shoes and kept his gaze locked with Gordie's as he slowly placed a knee on either side of Gordie's hips. He rested his firm ass on Gordie's thighs, then leaned in and whispered, "Thank you for staying and talking me down from my worst-case scenario images."

Gordie ran a light thumb down the side of Kenton's face and smiled. He breathed, "My pleasure," and pulled Kenton in for a comforting snuggle. Kenton's face burrowed into Gordie's neck, and they stayed like that, rocking gently while Gordie ran a hand soothingly along Kenton's back.

Kenton straightened and smiled right before his mouth landed on Gordie's. The fruity strains of the wine competed with a lingering hint of pepperoni, but Kenton's clean scent and the tingle of those roaming fingers trailing down his torso drew his focus.

They kissed leisurely for long minutes before Kenton inched one hand down to Gordie's belt buckle. Together, they managed to unfasten buttons and zippers.

Gordie gasped and arched when Kenton's warm hand wrapped around their hardening lengths. One of Gordie's hands landed at the nape of Kenton's neck, holding him in place, while the other traveled.

They found a rhythm, hips grinding, varying as the music switched from song to song, punctuated by the light smacking of their lips. Sometimes it wasn't about the destination, but rather about the journey. In this case it was an unhurried journey that Gordie was reluctant to bring to an end.

But all good things must eventually reach their finale. When Kenton's movement turned fitful, Gordie followed suit, soaring with the release he'd suppressed until Kenton could join him.

Their kiss broke as Gordie threw back his head and bucked. Kenton's moan was the sweetest Christmas music of the season—until it morphed into a sharp yelp. Gordie followed Kenton's gaze and snickered at the sight of a pale ball of fur with his claws in the poor man's ankle.

Gordie patted Kenton's back as the man shuddered and giggled against his torso. "Ornery doesn't begin to describe that cat."

"You...get...him," Kenton gasped as he reached back toward the coffee table and came back with a fistful of tissues. "While I...clean us up."

Extracting a kitten who didn't want to let go was tricky. They didn't tend to be conscious of their claws before eight weeks, so he was just beginning to control them. He managed as gently as possible and brought the pint-sized cuss in for a cuddle as Kenton handled the wipe up and got them tucked back into their pants.

"Where have you been?" Kenton cooed. "I was so worried!"

"And we still don't know where he's been hiding."

Kenton laughed through a groan. "At least I won't feel so anxious next time." He lifted off and finished fastening his khakis before reaching for the kitten.

Gordie stood and zipped up. "Now that Captain Jack is safe and sound, I've got something for him in my coat."

"Did you hear that Jacky? You've got a present!" He also got a scratch behind his ears.

The green and gold striped bag was still safe in Gordie's pocket. He handed it to Kenton with a flourish.

"Aw, thank you." Kenton grinned widely as he peered into the bag, then dumped the contents onto the rug. Captain Jack immediately wrestled loose and pounced on the catnip filled red and white mouse with a pirate patch sewn over one eye. He also had a couple jingly balls to bat around, but apparently they played second fiddle to the toy mouse. "He loves it."

Gordie ignored the censorious expression on Jack Sparrow's _On Stranger Tides_ poster, and peeked instead at the taunting mien on _Dead Men Tell No Tales_ before returning his full attention to Kenton.

He wasn't sure whether fictional Jack would be poking fun at their recent activities, or the way his namesake had ended it, but it didn't matter. The only thing that counted was the smile on Kenton's face pledging more to come—more time to get to know one another, and a chance to expand on the promise of this successful failure of a first date.

The End
**About Addison Albright**

Addison Albright is a writer living in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay (sometimes erotic) romance in contemporary settings. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, french fries, "open window weather," cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

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Also by Addison Albright

_Vows Box Set_ (<https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35648635-vows-box-set>)

Join Henry and Sam and an appealing supporting cast as they ride a rollercoaster of emotions when their lives are derailed before coming back on track, leaving Nash as collateral damage in the novel 'Til Death Do Us Part, novelette From This Day Forward, and short story _Okay, Then_. Nash takes an unusual path to his own HEA in To Love and To Cherish.

_Cultivating Love_ (<https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35173713-cultivating-love>)

When life throws Ed and Joe a curve ball, can they handle the heat, or will everything they've worked for fall apart?

_Snapshots_ (<https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34120226-snapshots>)

Sometimes a brief "snapshot" taken from a couple's larger story is all that's wanted.

_Closets Are for Clothes_ (<https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36573332-closets-are-for-clothes>)

Scheduled for release in February, 2018 at JMS Books, LLC

When the delicate balance of Mike's life is disrupted, he decides he's tired of living a lie. Will Wes understand his concerns, or will their fledgling relationship crumble under the strain of Mike's uncertainty?

### The Christmas Day Date

By Nell Iris

About the Story

Two men. Changed Christmas plans. A gazillion cookies.

Lenny Painter's idea of the perfect Christmas is sleeping the holiday away. He's got nowhere to be, and the only item on his Santa wish list is to catch a glimpse of his cute neighbor, JJ.

Julius Jones's carefully organized Christmas is canceled at the last minute. In a fit of rage, he rids his apartment of all holiday cheer, including the rainbow-decorated tree.

But Lenny rescues the beautiful tree from a sad demise and ends up spending the afternoon with JJ. When JJ asks Lenny to celebrate Christmas Day with him, Lenny accepts.

But it isn't a date. Or is it?

* * * *

The Christmas Day Date

December 24th

A loud banging coming from the hallway jerked me awake from my afternoon nap on the couch. Squinting, I glanced at the time. I'd only been out for little more than thirty minutes. I groaned. I'd been looking forward to sleeping away at least a couple hours of this dreary afternoon, but it seemed fate had other plans. I grumbled as I sat, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and yawned.

"Fuck you and fuck the fucking horses you fucking rode in upon." The voice drifting in through my door was muffled, but the anger and disappointment were clear as day. A heavy thud followed and my curiosity was piqued.

The only one living on this floor except for me was JJ across the hall, and for the life of me, I couldn't believe it was him cursing up a storm. He'd moved in a year ago and was the nicest guy I'd ever met. We talked quite a lot when we bumped into each other. It had started out with polite greetings, but evolved into more as we frequently ran into each other after work. Lately it had happened more than once that we'd talked for over half an hour before reluctantly—at least on my part—saying goodbye. He was funny and smart, but it was his kindness that drew me to him. His warm smile and genuineness. And not once, during all this time, had I heard him cuss.

JJ was the definition of put together: always spotless in a nice suit—not the hoity-toity kind, but not the ill-fitting off-the rack kind either. His short, coffee brown hair was immaculately parted on the side with not a strand out of place, and I'd never seen a hint of stubble on his narrow face. The only thing unusual about him was the hipstery, over-sized, black-rimmed glasses covering half his face.

He was so fucking cute I couldn't stand it. And hot. I wanted to rip off his suits and find out what he looked like naked. Today's swearing—if it was indeed JJ— would forever cement his place on Santa's naughty list. It also made him even more perfect. This, I had to see.

I stumbled to the front door and peered out the peephole. The door to his apartment gaped open. Two cardboard boxes stood on the floor outside his place—one large with a smaller one stacked on top of it—but there was no sign of JJ himself. I waited for a minute or two to get a glimpse of him, and just as I was about to abandon my post, he appeared from inside. The look on his face was grimmer than the Grinch's.

But that was not what caught my attention. No, it was the colorful Christmas tree he had in tow, the one I figured was about to join the boxes outside his front door.

I fumbled with the lock and flung open my door. "Hey, JJ. Whatcha doin'?" I stepped out and shivered as my naked feet came in contact with the cold floor. Goosebumps broke out all over my body at once and I shuddered. I was so stupid to leave the warmth of my home, dressed in nothing but athletic shorts. In December. The landlord was a cheap bastard and didn't heat the hallways more than necessary. But the rent was a steal, so I shouldn't complain too much.

"Lenny. I'm sorry if I disturbed you." He continued hauling the tree with a determination unlike anything I'd seen. What had the poor thing done to be treated like that?

"It's fine." I couldn't take my eyes off the tree. It was huge and covered in so many decorations I suspected he'd bought every last one available in town. But the most remarkable thing about it was that he'd arranged the ornaments and lights so it created a rainbow, with red decorations at the bottom, purple up top, and all the other colors in the correct order between.

It was the most beautiful tree I'd ever seen.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"Has the tree offended you in some way?"

"No."

"Huh." Weirder and weirder. Usually, he was a chatty guy and this new JJ, who barely answered my questions, caught me off guard.

The tree snagged on something, started tilting, and was a hairsbreadth away from falling over. JJ struggled to keep it upright, but even though he was tall—a couple inches taller than my own six feet—he was slender and waif-like. Adding the inattentiveness caused by his rage to the equation, and it was pretty clear they were both going to go down.

I rushed across the hallway and managed to throw one arm around his waist and steady him while grabbing for the tree. Somehow I managed to shove my hand between the branches and get a hold of the stem just before it fell over. The whole incident was over in less than five seconds.

JJ took a shuddering breath, wavered like a tall pine in a blizzard for a moment or two before promptly collapsing on my shoulder.

"Hey, buddy. What's wrong?"

A shrug was all the answer I got. I made sure the tree was steady enough to stand on its own, and then I turned my attention to him.

He was pale as a ghost. His eyebrows were like black slashes across his white face and even his mouth had lost most of its color. He crushed his glasses against my shoulder. With careful fingers, I coaxed them off and tightened my grip around his waist.

"Lemme take you inside." When he didn't object, I walked us both into his kitchen. I had no problem finding it, considering his place was a mirror image of my own. By the breakfast bar, I bumped my hip against his, nudging him to sit down. He obeyed without a word.

I unwound my arm from his waist and grieved the loss of his warmth. "What's wrong?" I handed him his glasses, and he took them and threw them on the bar.

"Everything," he groaned, rested his elbows next to the glasses, and hid his face in his palms.

I scratched my neck and took in the sight before me. Judging by his body language, he spoke the truth. Once the anger had passed, he radiated despair, and I wished I could take it away. No one should ever have to be that miserable.

"Want me to get your shi— stuff back indoors?" I asked and squeezed his shoulder.

"No," he mumbled and shrugged and nodded at the same time.

Deciding to trust his body and not his words, I walked out to the hallway and dragged the tree back in. Miraculously, none of the ornaments had fallen off during the scuffle. I hauled in the boxes, too, and closed the door behind me.

I ran my fingers through my hair several times and sighed. What should I do now? I wanted to help, but we weren't really friends. And he hadn't exactly asked me to come to his rescue.

To prevent my hair from falling on my face, I tucked it behind my ears and then rejoined him in the kitchen. "I put everything in the hallway."

"Thanks."

I scratched my neck again and grimaced. I was starting to feel like I'd overstayed my welcome. "I guess I should get outta your hair."

"No, wait." Straightening, he fumbled for his glasses. When he found them he put them back on and jumped off the stool. "Can I get you some, uh, coffee maybe?" His lower lip wobbled, and his pleading eyes melted me faster than Frosty in spring.

My hand flew to my chest at the sight of his distress and was met by bare skin. Startled, I looked down. Shit. I'd forgotten I was half-naked.

"Never mind," he said, looking crestfallen when my answer didn't come. "I'm sure you got better things to do. It's the day before Christmas after all."

"No, I, uh." I took a deep breath. "No plans. If you're sure?"

He perked up and nodded. "I am."

"Lemme run home and get dressed real quick?"

His gaze found its way down my chest and I had to fight not to squirm under his scrutiny. I wasn't toned or built. I was Mr. Average. I didn't have defined pecs or a six-pack or guns big enough to lift my own weight. I was a regular guy with a sparsely furred chest, a measly treasure trail, and a soft-ish belly. Nothing to write home about.

When he bit his lower lip, I furrowed my eyebrows. That glint of interest in his eyes was all in my imagination. Right?

"If you must," he sighed.

"I'm kinda cold."

"Of course. Sorry. I'll make coffee. Hurry back."

I squeezed past the Christmas tree that took up most of his hallway and ran back home. I threw on a pair of baggy jeans and a sweatshirt and rushed into the bathroom. Brushing my shoulder length hair away from my face, I twisted it into a small bun on the back of my head and fastened it with a rubber band. As usual, a strand from the front refused to let itself be captured, so I tucked it behind my ear.

I avoided the mirror. Seeing the silvery strands in my boring, ash-blond hair—that seemed to double in numbers every time I looked at them—would only make me feel a lot older than thirty-four. I didn't need to look at myself to know I should have shaved at least two days ago. And don't even get me started on the drooping eyelid that made me look sleepy or stupid. Or both.

"Get over yourself, Lenny," I muttered. It wasn't like this was a date or anything. He was way too perfect for me.

I grabbed my keys and shoved my phone in my back pocket. A few seconds later I was back at his place and entered without knocking. "JJ?"

"In the kitchen."

The tree was still blocking the entrance, so I carried it to the living room where I put it back in its spot in the corner, on the red rug lined with reindeer. I reconnected the power cords and when the lights twinkled to life, I gasped.

The tree was cheery and colorful. It was the embodiment of happiness and joy and all the other things I'd always believed Christmas should be about but had never experienced.

Would my life have been different if I'd woken up to a tree like that on Christmas morning, instead of a mother who'd bought booze with our last dime and gotten herself so drunk she'd passed out in her own vomit?

With a reluctant sigh, I turned my back to it. It made my chest ache with longing, and I could stare at it all day but JJ was waiting.

When I reached the entrance to the kitchen, I stopped short. While I'd gotten dressed and put back the tree, JJ had conjured up a feast. I had expected a plain cup of coffee, but the breakfast bar was overflowing with goodies. Three different kinds of cookies. A pie of some kind. Bowls filled to the brim with fruit. And heavenly smelling coffee served in big mugs with jolly, three-dimensional Santas on them.

My mouth opened and closed, but I was too overwhelmed to speak. He'd done all this for me?

"You don't like it. Oh my gosh, I totally freaked you out. I'm sorry, I'm so stupid. Don't worr—"

"JJ." I held up my hand. I'd been so in awe I hadn't noticed him until now. His eyes were wide behind his huge glasses, and he wrung his hands. "JJ, it's..." My voice was little more than a squeak so I had to clear my throat and start over. "It's amazing. When you said coffee, I...I didn't expect this."

"Is it too much? I can put away some..." His voice trailed off, and he grabbed a bowl of orange wedges. I intercepted him before he had time to dump them in the garbage, plucked the bowl from his hands, and put it back with the others.

"It's perfect. Thank you."

His light blue eyes filled with joy, sparkled and shone so bright they reminded me of ice crystals. And yet, somehow, his gaze was warm. I swallowed around the lump that appeared in my throat.

JJ pulled out a stool. "Please." He gestured for me to sit. I climbed onto it and he joined me.

"If I'd know it would be this fancy I would have dressed up."

He swept his gaze over me. "There's nothing wrong with what you're wearing." His eyes lingered on my chest, and he winked.

My eyes widened, and I almost choked on my breath. He wasn't flirting with me, was he? I averted my gaze and looked down to see what had caught his interest, and I groaned. Apparently, I'd grabbed my _I would bottom you so hard_ shirt. Heat crept up my neck, but I figured it was my punishment for avoiding the mirror.

If he caught my embarrassment, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he held out a plate of cookies. "Chocolate chip?"

"You betcha." The cookie was chunky, and no two looked alike. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten homemade cookies. If ever. "Thank you. You made these yourself?" I took a bite and almost died. It was chewy and chocolatey and wonderful, and the taste of brown sugar lingered on my tongue.

"I did."

I had to stop myself from shoving the whole thing into my face at once. "They're amazing," I said with my mouth full of cookie, but at least I didn't spray him with crumbs.

He straightened his back and puffed out his chest. "I'm glad you like them."

Before I knew it, I'd swallowed it down, and with a fond look on his face, he pushed all the cookies closer to me. My gaze was drawn to a plate with colorful, iced Christmas cookies. Candy canes. Snowflakes. Reindeer. All of them so beautiful my heart hurt when I looked at them.

"They're too pretty to eat," I mumbled.

"Oh, no, that's what they're for. Try Rudolph." He pointed at a reindeer-shaped cookie with a bright red nose.

"No! I can't eat Rudolph!"

"Why not?" He smiled at me and snagged a snowflake.

"I can't eat anything with a name." I bit my lower lip. Crap, that sounded stupid, didn't it?

"Awww, shoot, Lenny. You're adorable." His whole face lit up, and his eyes glimmered with an affectionate look. "A candy cane then? I promise I haven't named any of them."

Grabbing one of the red-and-white candy canes, I devoured it in two big bites. When it was gone I gobbled down a second one. They were awesome, with the perfect amount of sweetness in the icing, and a distinct taste of vanilla. I was a sucker for vanilla.

"They're soooo good," I moaned.

JJ laughed and took a sip from his steaming coffee. He had a hint of crow's feet in the corners of his eyes as if he laughed a lot.

I had an apology for the lack of manners on the tip of my tongue but swallowed it down at his pleased expression.

"Wanna tell me why you're so mad at the tree?" I asked instead.

He sighed. Deeply. As if it came from a bottomless pit.

"You don't hafta," I assured him. "I didn't mean to stick my nose in your business." As I took a sip of the rich, deep coffee, I hoped I hadn't offended him. I shouldn't have asked. He'd been so happy for a minute, and now I'd ruined everything.

"No, it's okay." He sighed again. "I can't blame you for asking." He nudged the plate with the third kind of cookies closer to me. They were spiral-shaped and gave off a cinnamony scent.

I grabbed one and gasped as the spicy cinnamon hit my tongue. It was even better than the other two kinds. "You sure you're not a baker?"

"Hah, no. I'm still the boring executive assistant to an arrogant bastard CEO."

"What a waste," I muttered.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and beamed at me. "Thank you."

"I mean it."

"I know." He sighed a third time, and the sound brought me down from my developing sugar-high. Why was he so unhappy?

JJ put his elbow on the table and rested his cheek in his palm. "I wasn't angry at the tree. I was angry with my parents, but I couldn't take it out on them." The corners of his mouth turned down. To stop my hands from reaching out and coaxing them back into a smile, I grabbed my mug with both hands and lifted it as if I was going to take a sip. Instead, I inhaled the rich aroma and took the chance to study him.

He was always so cheerful and talkative. The days when I was fortunate enough to cross paths with him were the highlight of my week. Not only because he was attractive as hell, but because he was fun to talk to and always seemed as happy to see me as I was to see him.

This sadness was new, and I didn't like it. I wanted to take it away. Offer to bear it for him. He was too nice to be upset.

JJ folded his arms in front of him on the table, hid his face, and mumbled, "I'm sorry for being such a party pooper."

My instincts told me to find his parents and punch them in the face for doing this to him. Put my boot on their neck and make them grovel and apologize at JJ's feet. But that wasn't who I was anymore. I'd struggled with my violent side these past years, worked hard to get away from it, and I wasn't going back for anyone. Not even the most adorable man in the world.

"Don't apologize." After a second's hesitation, I leaned forward and rested my hand on his upper arm. "Want me to go?"

He jerked up his head. "No! Please stay. I...I don't want to be alone right now. And I really enjoy your company."

Warmth spread in my chest, but all I said was, "Sure."

We sat in silence for several minutes. With my hand still on his arm, I drank my coffee. Ate a bright green Christmas tree cookie and swore it was going to be the last one, and then promptly eyed the pie. Was it pumpkin? Before I had the time to stab my fork in the middle of the dish and investigate, JJ spoke up.

"It's my family."

"What about 'em?" I forgot all about the pie and focused my attention on him. Not that I was an expert on families—pretty much the opposite—but I was a decent listener.

He straightened. "Are you certain you want to listen to my miserable story?"

I bobbed my head.

His eyes searched mine, and he nodded as if he was satisfied with what he saw. "Okay. But let's make ourselves a little more comfortable." He tilted his head in the direction of the living room. "Grab the cookies."

It only took us a minute to move to his couch. He insisted we bring the cookies and when I declined a second cup of coffee, he poured me a tall glass of milk.

"I love your tree," I blurted out.

"You do?"

"It's the prettiest one I've ever seen." Darkness had fallen, and the tree lit up the entire room. All the twinkle lights—I wouldn't have been surprised if it was hundreds—were white, but he'd placed them so strategically that they reflected in the colorful ornaments and gave the impression that they were rainbow colored too. The only thing missing was a mountain of cheery presents underneath and a brood of excited kids.

I pulled my gaze away from it. "You were gonna tell me about your family?"

"Hmm. Yes." He moved a little closer. "My parents are very religious. When they found out I'm gay, they were horrified and outraged."

"Oh." I had no idea what to say. The one who'd given birth to me didn't care about anything but vodka, so I had a hard time believing she would have cared about my sexuality. Not that I would have told her.

"Until July this year, we hadn't spoken for years. And probably still wouldn't have if it hadn't been for Julie."

"Julie?"

"Juliet. My little sister. She's sixteen. Ten years my junior and very idealistic. She called me one day out of the blue and told me it was her right to get to know her big brother."

"Wow."

"That's what I said."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Do you have a sister?"

"No."

"Well, trust me when I say they're impossible to say no to." He smiled. One of those fond smiles I liked so much.

"I do. Trust you, I mean."

"Somehow she got my mother to agree to talk to me. Can't say it's been amicable, but it's been more than silence."

"That's good." I didn't mean it, of course. No one with my mom would have meant it. But somehow I had a hard time believing JJ's mother would steal his hard earned money to buy booze.

"That's what I thought. Until today."

"What happened?"

"Mother called." JJ removed his glasses, held them up in front of his face, and glared at them. Sighing, he put them back on. "She said she'd been speaking to her pastor and that they couldn't _in good conscience_ visit a house of sin."

"Shit."

"Yes."

We sighed in unison.

"They were supposed to come for Christmas dinner tomorrow. I've prepared all the food and everything. Started marinating the turkey this morning. Took a half day off work to have time to cook everything." As he inched closer to me, tingles broke out and raced through my body. "When we hung up I was numb. It wasn't until Julie called and sobbed in my ear that I got angry." He fisted his hand. "I can take their bigotry. I'm used to it. But hearing my sister so unhappy broke my heart." He wiggled his finger under the lens of his glasses and wiped at the corner of his eye. "When we hung up, I had to take my anger out on something."

"So you decided to drag the tree out and...what? Throw it away?"

"Yeah. Stupid, I know." Without looking, he snagged a cookie.

As he was about to bite the head of Rudolph, I yelled out, "No!"

"What?"

I coaxed the cookie out of his hand. "You can't eat Rudolph." I put it down next to my mug and grabbed a snowflake. "You can eat this."

JJ turned his head and looked at me. "What about the other reindeer?" When I didn't answer, he asked, "Have you named them?"

I shrugged. "I don't know if you have. What if one of them is Prancer? Or Vixen?"

His lower lip quivered and his already moist eyes were close to overflowing. I wanted to reach out and wipe away the dampness. If he cried, it would feel as if the ice caps were melting.

"I had no idea you were such a softie, Lenny." A tear spilled down his face, and yet he didn't look sad. He stared at me with something that looked a lot like awe.

I didn't know how to respond and fidgeted under his intense gaze. He took pity on me and looked away. Taking off his glasses, he handed them to me. "Hold these."

I did as asked as he reached for some Kleenex and dabbed under his eyes. His usual cheerfulness returned, he crumpled the tissue and turned his face to me again.

"Better?" he asked with a smile.

His eyes still had an unusual sheen to them, but I nodded. With careful movements, I put his glasses back on. I made sure they sat right behind the ears and pushed them up his nose. Then I shot him a smile. "All better."

We stared at each other for several moments. The lenses magnified his eyes and his dark eyelashes went on for miles. When he blinked, I blinked too. His mouth fell open and he drew in a shuddering breath. I couldn't resist looking. His tongue fluttered out and wet his lips. They were an unusual color pink. Reminded me of ballet slippers.

I wanted nothing more than to lean in and taste him. Let my tongue flick against his. Run my fingers through his hair and tousle it. He would be even more enchanting if his hair wasn't perfect.

Instead, I looked away. Grabbing my milk, I gulped it down. I dried off my mouth with the back of my hand and rubbed my droopy eyelid with a knuckle while trying my hardest to get my breathing under control.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked in a light tone. "Visiting family?"

"I don't have a family." I wrinkled my nose.

"No one?"

I shook my head. "I never knew my dad. And my mom is dead."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I wrinkled my nose. "She wasn't worth it."

To his credit, he didn't press me for details. "So, hanging out with friends?"

"No."

"You gonna be all by yourself on Christmas?"

I scratched the back of my head, causing several strands of hair to loosen from the bun and fall on my face. "Yeah."

JJ laid his hand on my knee. It was the lightest touch, but it sent a jolt through my body. "Do you want to spend the day with me?"

"I..." Not knowing how to continue, I rubbed my droopy eyelid again. I shot off the couch and walked over to the tree. With my back to JJ, I reached out and touched a thin branch, needing to ground myself for what I was about to say.

"I'm...uh...I'm a drunk. An alcoholic," I blurted out in a shaking voice. "I mean, I'm sober. Have been for a long time. Have the chip to prove it 'n' all. But, ah..." I didn't want to admit to this perfect man that I—ten years after the last time I'd had something to drink—still couldn't be in a room with alcohol. That I didn't trust myself to keep my hands off it. I figured the craving for vodka was genetic. That—and a limp eyelid—was my mother's legacy to me.

"Good for you."

His praise brought me back to reality. There was no contempt in his voice. No judgment. Only honest admiration.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

"It must have been difficult."

He had no idea. I couldn't remember a single day when my so-called mother had been sober. And I'd had my first drink at eight. "Yeah."

"Like I told you before: my family is very religious. There was no alcohol in the house when I grew up. I'm no teetotaler, but I don't drink a lot. And I hadn't planned on serving any with Christmas dinner." He joined me. Stood next to me, so close our arms touched. Mimicking me, he reached out and touched the tree. "You'll be safe here with me."

I glanced at his reflection in one of the blue ornaments. It was distorted, but I could read the honesty on his face. I wanted to accept his invitation, to have a merry Christmas for once. The way it was supposed to be. I wanted to admire this tree for as long as possible, eat more of his yummy cookies, and maybe even be brave enough to sing along to carols.

But most of all I wanted to spend the day with JJ. "I would love to."

December 25th

Accompanied by a tummy full of butterflies that had fluttered frantically since they woke me up at five in the morning and kept me nauseous all day, I knocked on JJ's door at one minute before noon. Right on time as always.

Clutching the bag with JJ's gifts, I moved to run my free hand through my hair, but managed to stop myself at the last second. It was pulled back in a semi-neat bun, and I didn't want to mess it up. I scratched the five o'clock shadow on my chin, shifted the bag to my other hand, and ran my hand over my clothes to make sure they weren't wrinkled.

I had put on my nicest pair of jeans and a ridiculous Christmas sweater. It was green and warm and cozy, but the reason I'd bought it—at the same time I'd been shopping for JJ's presents in an attempt to fill the empty space under his tree—was that it had a big reindeer in the front. With a LED nose blinking in bright red.

I knocked again, a little harder. Music wafted out through the door and maybe JJ hadn't heard my first knock. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I bit my lip. What if he'd changed his mind? Why would he want to spend Christmas Day with a loser like me?

But before I could talk myself into going back home, the door opened wide.

"Lenny! You came!" JJ took one look at me and threw his head back and laughed. It was a joyous sound. As if someone had taken all the wonders of Christmas, crafted it into laughter, and gifted it to him.

"I love the sweater! A great reminder for me not to accidentally eat Rudolph." He wiggled his fingers under his glasses and wiped moisture from his eyes. "Please, come in."

"Thanks." As I followed him inside, I couldn't take my eyes off him. I'd never seen him in anything but a suit, but today he was casual. He wore a soft-looking blue-gray sweater and a nice pair of chinos that could have been made for him. They framed his ass in a way that caused a flood in my mouth.

I swallowed and looked away. Tried to rein in my urge to jump him and see what that ass looked like without the gray fabric.

He led me into the living room and my mouth fell open. The tree was lit and twinkled happily in the corner, but JJ had put up more decorations since yesterday. Twinkle lights framed every window, and on the table he'd placed a tall see-through vase and filled it with red Christmas tree balls and more twinkle lights. Frank Sinatra crooned Christmas songs on the stereo. And on the coffee table was a plate of cookies and the Santa mugs from the day before, filled with hot chocolate, topped with a mountain of cream and red-and-white candy canes.

It was as if someone had tried to make up for my childhood's shitty Christmases and combined all the things I loved into one happy moment in my life.

"Wow." My chest expanded with joy, and I didn't know if I wanted to cry or laugh or both.

"You like it?" JJ shot me a crooked smile with an edge of uncertainty. Was he worried I wouldn't approve? For real?

"Yeah," I rasped.

He gestured for me to sit, but I detoured to the tree and stuffed my presents underneath first. The sight of those two, colorful gifts didn't make me as happy as I'd thought they would. They looked lonely under there and I wanted to turn on my heel and run out and buy many more, fill the empty space to the last inch. A hundred presents still wouldn't be enough. And JJ deserved them all for inviting me. For making this Christmas the best in my life.

Straightening my back, I joined him on the couch and accepted the hot chocolate.

"You brought presents?"

"Mhm," I mumbled into my mug, refusing to look at him.

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." I took a sip of the steaming beverage and hummed in happiness when the sweetness hit my tongue. This was no stupid instant shit made with water. It was real milk and chocolate and whipped cream.

"But I didn't buy anything for you."

I swiveled my neck and narrowed my eyes at JJ. "Don't be an idiot. You've given me so much already."

His face split in a wide smile, showing off his cute crow's feet, and he inched closer. "You got something..." He gestured at my nose, but before I had time to wipe away whatever it was, he leaned in and kissed me right on the tip of my nose. "Mmm, cream."

The world came to a halt. Frank Sinatra stopped singing about jingling bells and the rainbow tree faded into the background. Nothing existed except JJ and his soft, ballet-slipper colored lips.

Pink bloomed on his cheeks when he pulled back, and he lowered his eyes.

I exhaled. "Wow." If the butterflies in my stomach had been bountiful before, JJ's kiss had made them double in numbers.

"Lenny?" He still didn't look at me.

"Yes?" I couldn't take my eyes off him.

"You got a boyfriend?"

"No."

"What if..." He pushed up his glasses and squirmed. "What if today was a...date?" The last word was a whisper, and if I hadn't been so close to him, I wouldn't have heard it. And even though I _had_ heard it, I had a hard time believing it.

Why would he want to date me? He was so amazing, and I was...nothing special. A recovering alcoholic. Not particularly handsome. A blue-collar guy. Not what anybody would call a catch.

"Why?" I blurted out.

He looked at me then. Ice crystal eyes burned their way into my heart. "Why not?" His voice was soft as if he was afraid to scare me off.

"I'm...You're..." I put down the cup on the coffee table, shoved my fingers in my hair and groaned. "I dunno." He was so...flawless and I didn't play in his league. Not even the same fucking sport. But if I said that, I would sound like a pathetic loser.

"Is it because you don't want to date me?"

"No!"

"Then what?" With gentle fingers, he pulled my hands from my head and rested them on my lap. Then he took the strands I'd pulled loose from the bun and tucked them behind my ears. His eyes glowed with tenderness and melted me.

"I guess I feel I'm not worthy of you."

He traced my jaw with his fingers and scraped his fingernails in my stubble. A shiver raced through me.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" His voice was thick. Filled with warmth. It chased away my fears.

"Okay," I whispered.

"Okay?"

I nodded. He sparkled to life at my answer. Body relaxing, eyes gleaming, and smile widening as if everything was right in his world. He darted his head forward and pecked a light kiss on my cheek.

"Awesome." JJ handed me my mug, held up his own, and then we toasted. "To Christmas Day dates," he said.

"Yeah." Rudolph's nose took that moment to flash red, and I groaned. "Great. I'm dressed like an idiot on our first date."

"I think it's very fitting. I wish I had something matching."

"Ah, well..." Scratching my neck, I made a quick decision. I got off the couch and hurried to the tree. After grabbing the bigger present, I returned to JJ's side and placed it on his knee. "Merry Christmas," I said with a hesitant smile. Desperately hoping he wouldn't hate it.

"I get to open my presents now?"

"Only this one. The other one is for later."

"Yay!" He attacked the package with the ferocity of a shark in blood-infested water, tore at the wrapping paper, and spread the pieces around like confetti. It took him only a few seconds to free the box inside.

I chuckled. His enthusiasm was cute and contagious and I was eager to see his reaction to my gift.

He tore off the lid and gazed down at the contents. "Lenny! You bought me my own Christmas sweater!" Giggling, he held it up. "I love it." He bounced up and down on the cushion as if he were a jack-in-a-box. "Hold this." He shoved it into my arms, tore off his glasses and threw them on the table, and unceremoniously grabbed his own sweater by the neck and pulled it over his head, showing off his naked chest.

I gulped down a breath and almost choked on my tongue. He was pale and hairless, and I couldn't see a single flaw on his smooth skin. His tiny nipples were the same color as his lips, and he was lithe and toned.

He was fucking perfect. Inside and out.

JJ put on the sweater with a goofy smile. It was snug-fitting as if I'd shopped in the women's department, but I loved how it showed off his body. He held out his arms. "Ta-daaa! Do you like it?"

It was bright red with a Christmas tree on the front. But what made it special was the real LED lights on the tree. I never thought something so hideous could look so great.

"Hang on." I reached out and snuck my hand under the sweater. Trying my hardest not to touch him, afraid I'd melt into a puddle if I brushed against his pristine skin. I pushed the tiny on-button when I found it, and the lights blinked to life. As I pulled back, my fingers nudged his side, sending a wave of heat up my arm, and I drew a quick breath.

JJ didn't notice. He erupted with laughter as if he couldn't keep it inside. "It's fantastic." He put his glasses back on, grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, before walking us over to an antique-looking mirror with a gilded frame. Standing side-by-side, he flung his arm over my shoulder and pulled me close. I snaked my arm around his waist.

"Look at us. All Christmassy and adorable."

"Yeah," I said, not taking my eyes off him.

His hand found its way to my bun, and he pulled the rubber band and freed my hair. It fell over my ears and down my face, and he hummed and nodded. Then he nudged me until I rested my temple on his shoulder, and he leaned his cheek against the top of my head.

"I love your hair like that," he said.

"Messy." I wrinkled my nose.

"Wild."

I didn't protest. It was kind of wild. But I'd always thought that was a bad thing.

"What happened to your eye?" he asked.

"Born this way. I always thought it was because my mom drank like a fish when she was knocked up with me. Makes me look stupid." I winced.

"No." He raised his free hand and ghosted his fingers over my droopy eyelid for a moment before letting it fall back. "It's sexy. It makes you look like a bad boy."

"You like bad boys?"

"No. But you're not a bad boy. You're nice and funny and a big softie. That's what I like."

"I used to be really bad," I mumbled.

He squished his eyebrows together as he studied me in the mirror. "But you didn't like it and did something about it."

"Yeah."

"That's what counts."

Periodically illuminated by hysterically blinking LED-lights, we gazed at each other in the mirror as Ol' Blue Eyes serenaded us. My heart pounded so loud in my ears I feared it might break my eardrums.

His scent found its way into my nose. It was a mix of brown sugar and icing and everything sweet, and he smelled like his cookies tasted. Delicious.

It was the most profound moment in my life.

I let my fingers caress his side, wanting nothing more than to slip my hand under his sweater and touch him, but at the same time afraid that my rough fingertips would abrade his velvety skin.

JJ's eyes darkened behind his glasses. "What do you want to do on our date?"

"Anything." I inched closer to him.

"I've never had a date on Christmas Day before."

"Me neither. I..." I hesitated to continue, but I wanted to be completely honest. I didn't want to hide anything from him, not even the ugly parts. "I haven't been on a date sober," I finished and closed my eyes. Hiding, like a coward.

"Why not?" he whispered.

How could I explain to him that all my experiences had been rough and dirty and borderline violent? That I'd fucked without care while drunk off my ass and used and thrown away any willing man?

How could I tell him that I had needed to distance myself from my past, to purge that period of my life out of my system along with the booze? That it had taken all these years for me to start trusting myself again? To know I wouldn't lash out?

As I opened my eyes and looked at him in the mirror, I knew I would never treat him like that. His eyes, enlarged by the lenses of his glasses, looked at me with endless trust, and I would never break it. I would rather chop off my own hand.

"It's a long, sad story," I said. "I promise to tell you but...not today? I want today to be happy and fun."

JJ squeezed my shoulder. "It's okay. Tell me when you're ready." He rubbed his nose in my hair and I shuddered.

"I promise."

"I trust you," he mumbled into my hair.

It was like he'd handed me a precious gift, and all I wanted to do was to cherish it. Protect it from anyone who could threaten it.

"You're so fucking wonderful," I muttered.

His grip on me tightened and he planted a kiss on the top of my head. "How do you feel about turkey for our first date?"

"Like it's just the thing for a Christmas date."

"I couldn't agree more."

Together, we meandered to the kitchen and prepared lunch. Instead of a whole turkey, JJ had roasted a pan of legs. He served them with mashed potatoes, stuffing, and gravy. He'd glazed different-colored carrots, made green bean casserole, and baked bread rolls. My stomach rumbled at the wonderful smells.

We spent almost two hours enjoying the meal. The turkey was moist and the mash was fluffy, but my favorite was the carrots. I'd never eaten anything but the ordinary orange kind, so the purple and yellow ones were an adventure.

I ate until I thought I would explode, and the more I ate, the happier JJ looked. His eyes sparkled and his smile grew so wide I was afraid it would split his face in two. He sang along with the music and laughed every time we toasted with the pomegranate soda he'd poured in tall champagne flutes.

"I should have worn my sweats," I groused as he scooped more carrots onto my plate.

"You could always take off your pants."

"I can't eat my first real Christmas dinner in my underwear."

Sadness filled his eyes for a brief moment before he smiled at me and asked, "Why not?"

"It wouldn't be right. Besides, I don't get naked on first dates." _Anymore_ , I thought, but I left that part out.

JJ stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "Too bad." He winked. "Be a good boy and eat your carrots."

I narrowed my eyes and speared a purple one on my fork. They were my favorites, which made no sense since they tasted like the orange ones, but I didn't care. I was never going to eat anything but purple carrots from now on.

After we finished, he tried to shoo me into the living room and get me to kick back on the couch.

"No," I said. "I'm doing the dishes. You've spent days cooking. You are _not_ cleaning up."

"But you're my guest."

"I don't care. I may have been pisspoorly raised, but I managed to learn some manners on my own."

His smile froze. "Oh, Lenny."

I shrugged. "It is what it is. I'm okay. Now, get outta here." I tried to chase him out of the kitchen, but he refused to leave. Instead, he kept me company and made silly dance moves to the carols as he sang along at the top of his voice. It was utterly charming, and I wanted to stay in this moment forever even though I had suds up to my elbows.

As he slid up behind me, I jumped and splashed sudsy water all over the sink.

"I've wanted to touch you forever," he mumbled in my ear. "Find out what you look like under those baggy clothes." Putting his hands on my hips, he pushed his pelvis against my ass, plastering himself against my back so tightly the LED-lights on his sweater prickled my skin. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah." My breath whooshed out of me.

He slid his hands around my waist and pulled on the sweater until he could get his hands underneath. "Mm."

When his fingers made contact with my skin, I had to bite my lip around the moan that was desperate to escape. He followed my happy trail downward but when he reached the waistband, he changed direction and turned north instead.

"You're so hot," he said. "And I love that you're hairy." He combed his fingers through the fur on my chest. "Is Lenny your real name?"

Was he asking me questions? Now? With his dick hardening against my ass, his hot breath in my ear, and his hands exploring my body?

"Um, no," I croaked, wondering if a frog had gotten stuck down my throat. "Leonard. My name's Leonard."

"Leonard? Yuck, no." He nuzzled his nose behind my ear. "It's too formal. You're definitely a Lenny."

His hot breath burned against the back of my neck, and I was ecstatic that I'd insisted on redoing the bun before I'd started cleaning up. That meant he had full access to everything. And he took advantage of it.

"What about you?" I was proud of myself for managing to carry a conversation and do the dishes despite his curious hands setting my body on fire. I should have been given a fucking award.

"What about me?" His lips caressed my skin and I detected the tiniest hint of stubble.

"What does JJ stand for?"

He pressed soft kisses all the way to my other ear, where he stopped and whispered, "Julius. Julius Jones." He breathed into my ear and goosebumps erupted and spread along my body like twinkle lights chasing each other on a string.

"I like it. Julius." I hiked up an eyebrow as his cock pulsed against my ass. "Julius," I repeated, drawing out the s. He groaned and humped against me. In a second, he'd freed his hands and grabbed my wrists.

"Stop what you're doing." With surprisingly strong fingers, he shook the water and suds off my hands and walked us backward. Reaching for a towel, he helped dry me off while we were still connected from chest to knees. When he was done, he threw the towel over his shoulder, encircled my waist, and steered us to the living room.

We ended up on the couch, me on my back and him hovering above me. "Are you okay with this?"

"Yes," I answered without thinking. "But..." I bit my lip. Was I stupid to have reservations? For wanting to take it slow? Would he lose interest if I wanted it to be something more than fucking?

"I remember. You don't get naked on the first date." His light blue eyes had darkened and there was a slight tremble in his arms. I could tell he was restraining himself, and if I said no he would climb off me, no questions asked.

I threw my arms around his neck. "Kiss me."

One heartbeat later his lips crashed onto mine. All that existed was his body against mine, his legs tangled with mine.

Hands roved and investigated. Tongues dueled and breaths mingled. I drowned in him, surrendered myself completely, and my grip on him was so tight I was afraid I'd leave marks, but I was unable to let up.

Our cocks pressed against each other and even through several layers of clothing, I felt him pulsing in tempo with his beating heart. His ragged breaths incinerated me. His soft lips, that seemed to be everywhere at once, drove me out of my mind.

"Julius," I moaned. "Julius." Every time I repeated his real name, his movements became more frantic. "Julius."

We kissed and caressed and ground against each other until my lips were raw, and I was one millisecond away from shooting my load in my pants. I freed my arms and grabbed him by the hips, stilling his fitful movements.

"Stop."

He froze, lifted his head, and stared into my eyes. "What's wrong?"

My hands flew to his face, blooming with beard burn, and I let my careful fingers dance over his skin. "I...I can't cum in my pants."

JJ's eyes widened.

"I'm so fucking close," I explained. "One more rub and I'm gonna explode. And I promised myself..." I took a deep breath. "I promised myself the next time I did anything it would be for real."

I dragged a fingertip over his swollen lips. Reveled in the sight of his flushed cheeks and tousled hair. Read acceptance in his eyes with blown pupils that made them more black than blue.

He'd never been more beautiful than in that moment.

Gingerly, he lowered himself, making sure to move his hips so our dicks didn't touch. "This okay?"

"More than." I dragged my hands down his neck, along his spine, and finally rested them on his waist. "Wow," I exhaled

"I second that," he mumbled into my neck.

We lay like that for several minutes. Panting in rhythm, with hearts beating wildly in our chests. After a while, he slid off me and arranged our bodies until we were spooning—he as the big spoon behind me—facing the rainbow tree. He was still hard against my ass, and if my dick had been able to speak it would have complained. Loudly.

JJ laced our fingers together over my stomach, and we were so close not a single molecule of air would have fit between us. After our frantic making-out session, the stillness was almost unbearable.

"I've never made out with anyone like that before." My mouth blabbered before I could stop it.

"You haven't?" His question was followed by a light kiss on my neck. Nothing sexual, just caring. Romantic.

"No."

"Did you like it?"

Did I like it? It had been world-changing and life-altering and better than I'd ever imagined. "Yeah."

"You wanna do it again?"

I nodded on his arm.

"Fantastic."

"Julius?"

"Yes?"

I took a deep breath. Decided to trust what was before me. Trust him. So I leaped off the cliff without a parachute. "How do you feel about a second date?"

"I feel like it's the best idea I've ever heard."

"Me too."

"I'm also partial to third dates, and fourth dates, and hundredth dates."

"Yeah?" I asked with my heart in my throat.

"Definitely." His grip on me tightened, and I managed to scoot a little closer to him. His sugary scent surrounded me. The rainbow tree twinkled happily in the corner. Frank Sinatra had started over on the stereo, singing about how Santa Claus was coming to town.

But the little boy inside me that had always begged Santa to come and whisk him away from his miserable existence, was finally silent.

Because for the first time in his life, he had exactly what he wanted.

Hope.

The End
**About Nell Iris**

Nell Iris is a romantic at heart who believes everyone deserves a happy ending. She's a bona fide bookworm (learned to read long before she started school), wouldn't dream of going anywhere without something to read (not even the ladies room), loves music (and singing along but let's face it, she's not Celine Dion), and is a real Star Trek nerd ( _Make it so_ ). She loves words, poetry, wine, and Sudoku, and absolutely adores elephants!

Nell believes passionately in equality for all regardless of race, gender or sexuality, and wants to make the world a better, less hateful, place.

Nell is a 40-something bi-sexual Swedish woman, married to the love of her life, and a proud mama of a grown daughter. She left the Scandinavian cold and darkness for warmer and sunnier Malaysia a few years ago, where she spends her days writing, surfing the Internet, enjoying the heat, and eating good food. One day she decided to chase her lifelong dream of being a writer, sat down in front of her laptop, and wrote a story about two men falling in love.

Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angsty, and wants to write diverse and unique characters.

Links

E-mail: contact@nelliris.com

Web: www.nelliris.com

Twitter: <https://twitter.com/nellirisauthor>

Facebook page: www.facebook.com/nellirisauthor/

Facebook profile: www.facebook.com/nell.iris.12

Goodreads: <https://www.goodreads.com/nelliris>

Book Bub: <https://www.bookbub.com/profile/nell-iris>

Also by Nell Iris

_Unconditionally_ (<https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34375066-unconditionally)>

After six years together Luca and Gus are finally getting married. On their wedding day Luca's mother sees her flamboyant son wearing a veil and explodes. Her hateful words trigger traumatic memories and instead of walking down the aisle, Luca runs away. When Gus realizes Luca is missing he follows him, intent on convincing him to come back. Will he succeed in time for the wedding ceremony?

_Find His Way Home_ (<https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35008817-find-his-way-home)>

Elliot is miserable living in the big city. He longs for tranquility but is unwilling to move away from his partner Mick. After a dramatic event, he flees and goes back home to a cabin in the mountains. Slowly he regains his calm, but being away from Mick is hard. When a ghost from Elliot's past shows up, he's faced with a hard decision: stay on the mountain alone or go back to the city, and Mick?

_Cinnamon Eyes_ (<https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35953908-cinnamon-eyes)>

Cory's struggled with severe depression. Desperate to rebuild his shattered life, he seeks out his best friend Asher, who he was in love with at fifteen, but who didn't know it. Asher's relationship with his dad is difficult and now that Pops has cancer, Asher fights to be allowed to help. When they meet after sixteen years, Cory's feelings are as strong as ever. But does Asher feel the same?

_Red Popcorn Strings and Gumball Rings_ (a part of the Dreamspinner Press Advent Calendar) (<https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36596938-red-popcorn-strings-and-gumball-rings>)

Scheduled for release December 1st, 2017 at Dreamspinner Press

Christmas is coming, and young couple Casey and Ellis are very much in love. Unfortunately, they're also the definition of dirt poor, and they don't have the money for nonessentials like decorations. Or a turkey. Or gifts. Between the recent death of Casey's beloved momma and Ellis's estrangement from his family, all they have is each other.

When Ellis finds the saddest-looking Christmas tree south of the Mason-Dixon Line thrown away outside his workplace and brings it home to Casey, things look up. Life is still a struggle, but wealth isn't always measured in money, and what seems worthless to others is often invaluable to the people who love it.

_Unexpected Christmas_ (<https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36600243-unexpected-christmas>)

Scheduled for release December 16th, 2017 at JMS Books

Thrown together by family drama, strangers Daniel and Axel end up spending Christmas Day getting to know each other. Axel is nothing like Daniel expected. Behind the scary-looking exterior, he hides the heart of a teddy bear. Between Disney princesses and erotic poetry, Daniel no longer fears for his life...but for his heart.
The Year of the Monkey

By Amy Tasukada

About the Story

The last thing Aoi wants to do for New Year's is spend it with his boyfriend's parents. Sure he and Sato have dated for three years, but Sato's parents were far from thrilled when their son came out. Since then Sato refused to visit unless Aoi was welcomed too.

When a fancy New Year's invitation gets delivered addressed to both of them, Aoi knows he can't back out of spending the holiday with Sato's family.

Can Aoi warm Sato's parents' hearts by making traditional mochi or will they end up in an even stickier situation?

* * * *

The Year of the Monkey

Aoi's gut twisted like the pages of his scripts after a long day of recording. He couldn't escape New Year's, but maybe it wouldn't find him underneath the warm kotatsu table.

He lay on the wooden floor trying to ease his flopping stomach, but even the red glow from the table's built-in heater reminded him of New Year's fireworks. He groaned and traced the grained loops of the floor.

Everything had turned into such a mess because of him. It would be easier if Sato went to his parents' by himself.

The front door opened.

"I'm home," Sato called.

"Welcome home," Aoi greeted his boyfriend.

"Where are you?"

Aoi wiggled a hand out from under the blanket that trapped the heat underneath the table. "I'm under here."

The cold air stung, and Aoi drew his hand back into the warm cavern the kotatsu created. Aoi had no idea how he'd survived winter all these years without one.

The wooden floor vibrated under Sato's slippered footsteps. They stopped as Sato grabbed the edge of the blanket and lifted it. Aoi smiled at him even though he was letting all the warm air out.

Sato pushed up his glasses. "I wish I could fit under there."

"My top half was getting cold."

"You could've turned on the space heater."

"I didn't want to run up the electric bill."

"We can afford for you to be warm."

Aoi squirmed out from under the table and tugged on the lapel of Sato's blue suit. "But you can warm me up faster than any heater."

A flush stained Sato's cheeks. Even after two years together, he'd still sometimes blush at small innuendos. At least they didn't go over his head anymore like when they'd first dated.

The fine lines around Sato's eyes deepened. Aoi loved watching the lines grow with each smile he could coax out of Sato. Perhaps his tedious number crunching at his accounting job helped with some of the wrinkles, but when Aoi looked he could only see himself reflected in Sato's glasses. That's all Aoi needed during New Year's—only Sato. No parents necessary.

"Are you still cold?" Sato asked.

"Very."

"You know, I can help with that."

Aoi hooked his finger on Sato's blazer and plucked the button free. Even though it had been just a few hours since Sato had left for work, their time apart had stretched into forever for Aoi. His hands slipped inside Sato's open jacket and wrapped around his hips. Aoi would make Sato wish his New Year's vacation lasted longer than a week.

"Why don't you show me, then?" Aoi licked his lips.

Sato bent down, and Aoi stood on his tiptoes to meet the kiss. Sato was too freakishly tall to kiss without a ladder. Sure, Aoi had stopped growing in upper primary school, but Sato could kneel for a kiss every once in awhile. Still, even with the awkward positioning, the gentle kiss made Aoi's muscles slacken and his stomach calm.

"Is that Jin's invitation?" Sato pointed to the paper on the table. "The colors kind of remind me of the Fire Tiger mecha suit. Does he like Gundam too?"

Aoi sighed.

Sometimes dating a nerd was hard. Aoi might've had a small infatuation with boys' love manga comic books, but at least half of that came from his job as a voice actor. Not to mention Aoi's books didn't take up as much room as the robot-filled glass display cases lining the walls.

"Jin hasn't seen any Gundam unless it was a porn parody," Aoi said.

"Oh."

Aoi ran his fingers through his blond hair and glared at the two invitations resting on the table. Jin's postcard was normal. An orange monkey smiled against a red-and-black background. "Jin's Awesome Orphans New Year's Party" was scrawled over the front.

It wasn't Jin's invitation that had driven Aoi under the table, but the other one with "Happy New Year" written in shiny gold calligraphy on a red envelope. Heavy decorative cording wrapped around the invitation just to add to the formality of what a visit to Sato's parents would be like.

Aoi had met Sato's parents when he'd tagged along for support as Sato came out to his parents. Sato had turned around and introduced Aoi as the man he loved. Sato's mother had run off crying, and though his dad had lingered a bit more to chat, the disappointment had been apparent on his face.

Aoi got it. It wasn't like his parents approved either.

"Did you stay underneath the table all day?" Sato loosened his tie.

Aoi couldn't say yes or else he'd look lazy while Sato worked all day. "I did some reading."

"That's better than the last-minute New Year's rush getting accounts settled."

"At least you're on holiday now."

Sato's fingers trailed down Aoi's spine. "It'll be nice to spend the time together and we can visit my parents."

Aoi rubbed his neck. "I don't know if I can see your parents."

"What?"

"Jin invited me to his party."

Aoi had gone every year since he'd become friends with Jin. He threw a party for everyone in the music scene who couldn't go home, and Aoi had been number one on that list even if his only musical contribution was moaning in one of Jin's songs.

Sato picked up Jin's invitation and read over the back. "Jin's is New Year's Eve, and I always visit my parents New Year's Day."

"Oh." There went one way to get out of visiting Sato's parents.

"Weren't you just telling me yesterday that people go to Jin's parties to hook up?"

"It's not like _I'm_ going to do that, but I've always made the New Year's soba."

Sato pushed up his glasses. "So make some soba, come home at a somewhat decent time, and then the next day, we go to my parents."

"They'd rather see you."

"When Michiko gave us the invitation, she said they wanted us both to come."

Aoi shook his head and grabbed the ingredients for dinner out of the fridge. After a quick rinse, he chopped up a radish.

"Come on," Aoi said. "You and I both know she misspoke. They don't want to see me."

"My parents knew I wouldn't go unless you were invited."

"But New Year's is such a family holiday. I'd be a third wheel."

Sato pressed his hand against Aoi's shoulders. "We're a family. I love you, and if they can't accept it, then I don't need them in my life."

Aoi muscles tensed. Sato didn't understand. His parents still contacted him. Aoi continued to hack away at the radish.

Sato wrapped his arms around Aoi, careful to avoid the chopping. "Why don't we actually open the invitation and see what it says?"

"Fine."

Sato grabbed the decorative envelope and pushed it to Aoi. "You open it."

"But they're your parents."

"You're the one apprehensive about going."

Aoi gnawed on his lip. He blamed Sato's bossy attitude on the emotionless numbers on spreadsheets he'd stared at all day. He just had to enter comments and they'd do whatever he wanted. But Aoi grabbed the envelope, managed to work the fancy cords through the knots, and slipped it open. The embossed monkey design was a lot fancier than Jin's, and with that came much more formal and stiff language.

"See, look." Sato pointed. "It says you and I are welcome to come."

Aoi sighed. "I guess so."

"Mom had to go the department store to get one this fancy. So she must be starting to come around."

Aoi chopped the head off another radish. "Until I fuck up."

"You won't."

"Last time didn't end well."

"But this proves they're working on it. I know the last time we went wasn't perfect, but this is them trying. They'll never come around unless we meet them halfway."

"I don't even know what to call them."

Sato shrugged. "I always say Mom and Dad."

"I'm not calling them Mom and Dad."

"Okay, my Dad's Ken, and my mom is Emi."

"I can't call them by their first names."

"But we're family. We've lived together for a while now."

Aoi grabbed another bundle of radishes from the fridge. "I'm at least going to say Mr. Ken and Mrs. Emi."

"Are we having radish soup for dinner?"

"What? No." Aoi looked down. He'd diced up at least a dozen radishes. "We are now."

* * * *

Rock music thumped across the apartment hallway. Somehow Jin managed to throw his parties at least once every few months but still hadn't gotten kicked out for a noise complaint. Maybe his neighbors were fans, or the long months he was touring were enough to make up for it when he got back.

Aoi knocked on the door, and Jin answered. He stood slightly taller than Aoi, but everyone else would lump them both in the under-five-foot club. They shared the same bottle of blond hair dye, but Jin kept his hair past shoulders in a typical glam visual kei style, while Aoi's was shorter.

"It sounds like the party already started?" Aoi asked.

"Nah, I'm getting the set list together."

"So everyone will hear me moan again."

Jin rolled his eyes. "You know you like it when people hear you moan. Besides, that's the only song you're on. If I don't play it, people will get mad since it's a musicians-only party."

Aoi stepped inside while Jin went back to messing with his music player. The mountain of CDs surrounding him looked more like Everest than all the other New Year's parties Aoi could remember. Jin's little pug dog, Princess Potato, jumped around to the beat of the music. At least she wasn't barking or gnawing on Aoi's shoes.

"Are more people coming than usual?" Aoi asked.

"About the same. I'm digging back into the discography for a good laugh. I used to write such bad lyrics."

"Used to?"

Jin crossed his arms. "Don't be mean to the host, or I'll limit how much beer you can drink."

There had to be at least six cases of beer on the balcony, and no doubt some of the guests would bring more. Really all Aoi had to do was talk about Jin's drummer, and he'd be too distracted lamenting the fact the he was straight.

"Did you forget I'm the one making all the food?" Aoi asked.

"Then start chopping. It wouldn't be New Year's without the soba noodles."

The kitchenette in Jin's studio apartment didn't allow for much cooking space, but Aoi had whipped up more elaborate meals than noodles when he and Jin were roommates. Aoi got to work making the stock, while Jin messed around with his CDs. He sang along to half a song, then changed to a new one.

No amount of Jin's singing could distract Aoi. Through each cut of fish cake, his muscles tensed more. Usually cooking would slice away at his tension, but inside, he cringed like having to read bad dialogue from a script.

"So you staying the whole night or you gotta cut out early?" Jin asked.

"I have to see Sato's parents tomorrow. So not too late."

Jin whistled. "You're spending New Year's with them? That's a big step."

Aoi stomach curled; even chopping the scallions didn't help settle it.

"Has he been back to his parents' since the big coming out?" Jin asked.

"He refused to see them unless they welcomed me too. So if I decided not to go, I'd have double the guilt."

"I knew he'd be the best boyfriend you ever had."

Princess Potato danced around Aoi's feet. She was too peppy for the rock music playing and much too happy for Aoi's mood.

"Good thing you came early so you wouldn't be stuck in the kitchen and miss the party," Jin said.

"Then I'd miss out when you try to play matchmaker with everyone."

"I have a sixth sense about that kind of thing."

"And you're single because...?"

"I need a man that can accept me and the princess in my life." Jin squatted down and petted the dog. She flopped on her back and snorted. "You're such a good dog. Yes, you are..."

"Can you get Her Highness out of here so I can cook?" Aoi sliced through another scallion. "Wait, that's a perfect idea."

"Exactly, you and Sato could get a dog that doesn't chew his figures. Then Princess Potato and it can go on walks together."

"What? No!"

"But it sounds sweet. We could post pictures online. The fans would love it."

"The only fans I care about right now are Sato's parents."

Jin leaned against the counter. "It's too bad you can't just hide out in the kitchen and cook for them."

"I can make mochi rice cakes. Everyone loves them, and Sato's parents can take out their anger out on the rice when they hit it."

Jin crossed his arms. "You mean we could've been eating mochi for years on top of soba?"

"You need to have an outdoor area to make it the traditional way."

"Wow, you really go all out."

"It tastes better that way."

"You can get into his parents' hearts through their stomachs."

Aoi laughed. "Then I can avoid all the awkward conversation."

"You got all the stuff for it?"

"Shit." Aoi dropped the knife on the cutting board. "I need a wooden bucket, the mallets, and the rice."

Jin pulled out his phone. "Don't worry, I'll make mochi-making supplies the required fee for the party."

Aoi crossed his arms. "Jin."

"Hey, my parties are the talk of the music scene. Everyone wants to come..." Jin stifled his own giggle, and Aoi rolled his eyes. "You know, even the fans catch wind of them. You should read the fan fiction."

"I basically read that stuff for a living."

"One of them there was an orgy between sixteen of us. Sixteen! What do we look like, a Korean pop group? It was hilarious."

"Shouldn't you be calling?"

Aoi finished chopping up the rest of the vegetables while Jin texted on his phone. He let out a few snickering giggles here and there, but by the time Aoi finished, Jin had slipped his phone in his pocket.

"You feel better about going now?" Jin asked.

Aoi shrugged. "Hand me a beer. I still want to forget what I have to do tomorrow."

Jin grabbed a beer out from the stack on the balcony. Princess Potato jumped and barked around before following Jin back in. Jin handed one to Aoi and kept one for himself.

"To impressing your boyfriend's parents." Jin held out his beer bottle.

"If I don't make his mother cry again, I'll count it as a success."

Aoi clicked his beer against Jin's and chugged it down. If he could survive tomorrow, it would be a miracle.

* * * *

Aoi hugged the wooden mochi-making bucket. Two of the long wooden mallets stuck out of it while the mochi rice bags helped keep everything steady. Aoi balanced the bucket on his hip and fished the keys out of his pocket. He failed the first time, and the second time, and by the third he was ready to kick the door until Sato opened it. His sixth beer had been too much, but he stumbled into the apartment with his fourth attempt.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Shit.

He slipped out of his shoes, but his big toe caught against the edge of the vestibule step. He fell, and the bucket bounced off the floor, the heavy mallet slamming down next to it.

Fuck.

Pain pulsed through his toe to the back of his heel. He grabbed it, dulling the ache, but it didn't go away.

"Aoi?" Sato asked from the bed.

Aoi gnawed on his lip. He hadn't meant to wake Sato, but since he was...

"Your parents have a big enough yard to make a fire, yeah?"

Sato clicked on the bedside lamp, casting a huge shadow off his Gundam figures in their display cases. The plastic robots' shadows grew to the ceiling. Aoi would rather take his chances with them than with Sato's parents.

Sato slipped on his glasses. "What's all the noise?"

Aoi turned over the bucket and put the bags of rice inside. "Go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Am I dreaming or do you have a mallet?"

"I'm going to impress your parents by making mochi."

The bedsheets shuffled as Sato sat up. "You don't have to impress them."

Aoi swallowed, but his mouth remained dry. Sato didn't understand. Aoi had had sixteen years to impress his parents, but one dirty magazine and he was never welcomed into their lives again.

He dropped the bucket, but he didn't bother to pick it up.

"They already hate me for making their son gay."

Sato rubbed his forehead. "I was gay long before I met you."

Aoi dragged his feet all the way to the bed. He sat opposite Sato and rubbed his slick palms against the sheets.

"Your parents don't see it that way," Aoi said. "They see me as the guy who seduced their only son to the other side."

Sato chuckled and wrapped an arm around Aoi's waist. "Your moans are sexy, but I think there's a limit on what they can do."

The space heater in the bedroom clicked on, its red coils glowing.

"Your parents like mochi, right?"

"Go to sleep or you'll be too tired to make it for them."

"I used to make mochi with my parents. I just—I just want yours not to be like them." Aoi's voice cracked though his trembling lip.

He curled into a ball. His parents hadn't cared about his life, even after he'd made it as a successful voice actor. There was no point in hoping Sato's parents would be any different. Aoi had become the wedge between Sato and what had been a good relationship with his family.

Sato's warm body wrapped around him. Everything was so hot.

"It's going to be okay." Sato kissed the back of Aoi's neck.

"But what if they still hate me at the end of the day?"

Even being enveloped in Sato's arms didn't stop Aoi's thoughts from rushing. If Sato hadn't come out to his parents, then he could've continued to see them. Everything had been fine before.

Aoi pressed his face into his hands. "What if they decide to never speak to you again?"

"You make me so happy, and deep down that's all they care about."

"I thought my parents were that way too, but then they kicked me out."

Aoi rubbed the tears out of his eyes. He hoped Sato couldn't see, but Aoi's body trembled. Everything was ruined because of him.

"They invited both of us because you're a part of my life now, and they realize that."

Aoi said nothing; any argument he wanted to make would be shot down by Sato. He could be too sweet for his own good.

* * * *

Aoi's phone rang, its glow cutting through the dimly lit apartment. Aoi groped for it, hoping to find it before it woke Sato.

A second ring.

Sato shifted and let out a sleepy groan. "What's that?"

Aoi snatched the phone, silencing the noise. He narrowed his eyes at the cherry blossom avatar popping up on the screen. What was Sato's sister doing calling him so early?

"Hello," Aoi whispered as he ducked into the bathroom.

"Come shopping with me," Michiko said, the usual pep in her voice.

"It's five in the morning."

Aoi rubbed his eyes. He'd hoped to get a run in before his funeral at Sato's parents. Aoi's head pounded, and even the bathroom light made his eyes ache. He shouldn't have had that last beer.

"If we don't start moving, all the good deals will be gone."

"I don't—"

"Come on, it'll be fun. I'll give you pointers about Mom and Dad."

Sato refused to tell him anything besides that his parents wanted him happy. If Aoi knew even a little more about them, it could turn everything around.

Aoi rubbed his face. "I'll go."

"You've already beaten Sato for the best brother of the year award, and we're not even related."

"It's only been the New Year for five hours."

"Shopping gives you double the points. So he'll have to work overtime to steal it from you."

Michiko rattled off where to meet, and as Aoi hung up, the bathroom door opened.

"Don't tell me you agreed to go shopping with her for those awful lucky pack grab bags," Sato said. "No one wanted the clothes to begin with. That's why you can't see what's in the bags before you buy."

His glasses were off, and his hair stuck out in pointed spikes like the robot heads of some of his figures.

"She's the only one in your family who likes me. Of course I'm going with her."

Sato yawned. "Go if you want, but you're missing out on New Year snuggles."

Aoi smiled and stood on his tiptoes to kiss Sato's neck. "Believe me. After this day is over, we're going to do a lot more than snuggle."

Sato's lopsided smiled melted Aoi's heart.

* * * *

The address Michiko had given him led Aoi to the famous Shibuya 109 building. Of course she wanted to meet at what had to be the busiest shopping center in Tokyo.

Aoi held in a deep breath as the people crushed him to get to the deals. Everyone stood so much taller, so they bumped into him like he wasn't there. He slowly let out the breath, but the crowds never thinned and his nerves never untangled. New Year snuggles were looking better by the claustrophobic second.

He pulled out his phone. If he couldn't find her soon, he'd ditch the whole plan.

"Aoi!" Michiko called out.

Her bright pink floral jacket stuck out like a spring breeze in the dead of winter. A matching flower was secured to the side of her braided hair pinned to the top of her head like a crown. She pushed past everyone toward Aoi without a glance, but with her height people actually noticed she was there.

"I'm so glad you came," she said.

"You started without me." Aoi pointed to the two bags under Michiko's arm.

Michiko didn't answer; instead she turned her head and waved. "Mom's over there."

Aoi's mouth drooped. "You didn't say your mom was coming."

"You wouldn't have come if I had."

"You're damn right—"

The smile on Mrs. Emi's face grew into a frown the closer she got. Sato had inherited her eyes, but hers lacked the warm glow Aoi loved so much. He definitely should've stayed home.

She turned and smiled at Michiko. "There you are, dear. It's a good thing we're so tall, or else it would be impossible to spot you."

"Mom, you remember Aoi?" Michiko said.

She didn't even acknowledge Aoi. Instead she just cleared her throat and said, "What's the next store on the list?"

"Liz Lisa."

Aoi followed them even though Michiko was the only one who even looked at him. It would look a million times worse if he ditched now that Mrs. Emi had seen him.

They waited in line at the frilly clothing store with so many floral prints it could've doubled as a florist. Unlike the other stores whose luck packs were cloth bags, the eternally-stuck-in-spring store used luggage to conceal what the buyers were purchasing. People left with either a small floral carry-on or a large pink one that most airports would require to be checked in. Big or small, there were way too many zeros at the end of the price.

Michiko wheeled both types out of the store.

"Aoi, do you mind helping me with these?" Michiko asked. "They have wheels, so it's easy, but I already have three bags, and it's hard enough to get to the lucky packs with those."

"Sure, I don't mind."

After a few hours' shopping, he realized what Michiko really wanted him there for: to help carry everything. If it won any points with Sato's parents, he'd do it. During the next hour, Michiko or Mrs. Emi bought five more lucky packs from the different stores. Michiko would casually hand the bags over to Aoi. At first, they had been easy to stick on the luggage handle, but after a few bags they would tip over if Aoi didn't keep a tight grip on it. Eventually, Aoi had been bogged down with so many lucky packs, each step felt like a weight workout routine.

Every time Aoi caught a glance of Mrs. Emi, she frowned. If he couldn't win her over by carrying all their stuff, there was no way making mochi would do it.

Aoi bit his lip.

"Let's get one for your brother," Mrs. Emi said.

Together they strolled to a men's store, while Aoi took more lumbering steps. For once, the amount of staff outnumbered customers. The pressed collared dress shirts and ties reminded Aoi of Sato, expect for the few neon-colored ones with matching crazy-patterned shirts.

A large table contained the lucky packs. A group of them had an _M_ tag sticking out of the cloth bags, and others were marked _L_.

Sato's mother grabbed a bag from the _L_ stack.

"He's actually more of an _M_ now," Aoi said. "It helps when he's not eating vending machine food."

Her lip curled. "But he's so tall."

Aoi swallowed. He didn't want to start anything, but it would be a waste of money if she bought the wrong size. He readjusted the bags on his shoulder, then played with one of the tags.

"There's always extra in the pants' hem for height adjustments," Aoi mumbled.

Michiko stepped closer to him. "What were you saying?"

"I've adjusted Sato's hems before," Aoi said. "It's a quick sew job. So fixing an _M_ is easier than the _L_."

"You know how to hem things? That's so awesome!" She sounded like Aoi had bought the world's supply of floral fabric and given it all to her.

Aoi rubbed his neck. "It's not that hard."

"But no one knows it anymore, and you're an awesome cook on top of it. Are you cooking anything for New Year's?"

"I was thinking we could all make mochi."

"Homemade mochi!" She turned to her mom. "Doesn't that sound awesome?"

Mrs. Aki shrugged. "Perhaps."

There was no pleasing her. She grabbed the _M_ bag and headed for the line. Aoi sighed and adjusted the straps of the bags on his shoulder.

A black tie with subtle green stripes stood on one of the display tables. It was the same color as Sato's favorite Gundam, or at least the one he'd chosen to be his favorite for the past few weeks.

Aoi picked up the box holding the tie and flipped it over. He cringed at the price, but the 20 percent off sign helped the blow. Even if it wasn't on sale, Sato was worth it. He could get his boyfriend a New Year's gift even if Sato had dragged him to his parents.

No one else had gotten in line, so Aoi stood behind Mrs. Emi.

Her shoulders tensed.

"Sato would've been better off if he'd never met you," she said under her breath, but loud enough for Aoi to hear.

* * * *

Aoi trailed a few feet behind Michiko and her mother as they walked the final block to their home. They chatted amongst themselves, but Aoi let the words drift away like the light snow falling around them. Mrs. Emi didn't want him there, and all Aoi's doubts had been right. He readjusted the lucky packs digging into his shoulders.

They entered the house, and Sato came out of the kitchen to greet them. For the first time in hours, Aoi smiled.

"You enjoyed the shopping?" Sato asked.

"It was a bit more of a workout than I expected." Aoi laughed.

Michiko slid off her shoes. "It's good to trade off between cardio and weight training."

Sato pushed up his glasses. "Spoken like a true gym manager. Are you trying to sell my boyfriend a gym membership?"

Michiko laughed, but her mother crossed her arms over her chest and grimaced. Sato frowned and Aoi looked to the floor. No matter how much Sato insisted Aoi spend with New Year's with his family. Aoi was still the tagalong boyfriend he'd been dating for only three years. Aoi didn't belong with them.

"Could you put the bags on the floor in the living room for me?" Michiko asked.

Sato grabbed half of the bags and helped Aoi carry them to the center of the room. The room hadn't changed since the '70s, but the family photos dotted on the furniture and hanging on the walls spanned the ages. Aoi rolled his shoulders, finally getting the feeling back in his fingers.

"Here, sit next to me." Sato patted the sofa beside him.

Aoi sat, but since Sato was in the corner, it meant one other member of the family would be stuck beside him. Michiko wasn't helping since she was putting the various bags into stacks.

"We got one for you too, Sato," Michiko said.

Sato chuckled. "Hopefully no lucky poop ties this year."

"Why don't you try on what you got for a change? It can be a sibling fashion runway."

He looked at Aoi, but before Sato could open his mouth, Michiko grabbed his arm and pulled him to the back rooms.

Aoi shuffled his feet, trying to find a good position for them, while Mrs. Emi stood on the other side of the room. The clock ticked on in their silence.

Sato's dad came out from the kitchen and gave Aoi a half smile. Aoi looked away and rubbed his palms on his pants. Having both parents in the room only made his anxiety worse.

"I'm going to go help Michiko," Mrs. Emi, then left.

At least Mr. Ken hadn't run into the other room, and his smile held a bit of promise behind it.

"You drink coffee?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Sugar, cinnamon?"

"Black is fine."

He disappeared into the kitchen for a minute, then handed Aoi a misshaped glass made of out of clay coils. The off-blue-colored mug had a few chips around the rim. It looked old but well loved. Aoi warmed his hand around the cup. His pinkie rubbed against the carved button, which read "Sato." He must've made it as some elementary art project.

Aoi cupped the mug a little tighter and wished Sato was there.

"My grandmother was from Taiwan," Sato's father said, "but once she came here, she loved homemade mochi. I can vaguely remember making it with her a few times when I was little."

"I made it every year back home."

"Sato told me you're a good cook."

Aoi pressed his lips together and took a sip of the coffee. "I tried to teach Sato a thing or two, but when he's not under supervision, we have to worry about the apartment burning down."

He laughed. "He gets that from me. I can only make coffee."

"This is good." Aoi took another sip of the coffee. "You'll have to show me how you made it."

"It's about getting whole beans and grinding them up at home."

"I see."

At least food could impress Sato's dad.

"The way Sato talks about you... I'm happy he found someone that makes him happy."

Warmth radiated throughout Aoi's body. It was like Mr. Ken had put all the affection he had for his son into the coffee and shared that love with Aoi. He accepted the two of them as a couple.

"Are you ready?" Michiko called from the other room.

"We are!" Mr. Ken said. "She's done this since we got her first lucky pack at thirteen."

Michiko came out first in a pink ruffle shirt and a short brown skirt. The items matched well considering they had been thrown together from the lucky pack. Mrs. Emi came around the corner and smiled and clapped while Michiko spun around and struck various poses. Mr. Ken joined in the celebration, and even Aoi lightly clapped against the coffee cup.

"Sato, it's your turn!" Michiko said when she left the runway.

He came out in a mustard-yellow shirt, blue plaid pants, and a pale pink tie. Not only did they not match, but they were about as opposite of Sato's usually blue suits and earth-toned shirts as possible.

"That's unfortunate," Mr. Ken said.

A slow giggle crept up Aoi's throat until he burst out in laughter. Sato's dad was the first to join, and then everyone, including Sato, was laughing.

"I don't think those clothes are you at all," Aoi said between fits.

Sato cracked a smile. "The pants might work for you, but they'd be way too long."

"The plaid is nice."

"I'm going to try on the next look." Michiko ran off to the back.

"I'll change out of this too."

Aoi was yet again alone with both of Sato's parents. While his dad sipped coffee, Sato's mother glared at him. Her words while they'd been shopping bounced in his head like a mic with bad reverb.

Sato would've had a better relationship with them if he'd never come out. Aoi knew if his own parents had never found out, then he wouldn't have had to fend for himself since he was sixteen. The thick tension in the air made it hard to breathe.

Aoi stood and found the nearest bathroom. He could hide out in there until Sato finished changing. Being beside him made dealing with his mother a little easier.

Aoi splashed water on his face and leaned against the counter. They weren't even halfway through the day and Aoi had to hide. There was no way he could make it through visiting the shrine for New Year's prayers and come back to make mochi after. He'd already told them he was making mochi, so it would make him look ten thousand times worse if he left without doing it.

"Are you okay?" Sato knocked on the door.

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

Aoi sighed.

"Can I come in?"

There was no escaping. Aoi couldn't hide in the bathroom to avoid Mrs. Emi's disgusted gaze the whole time Michiko put on her fashion show. At least he could spend a little time alone with Sato while they both hid in the bathroom.

Aoi opened the door. "I got you something, but I don't think it'll go with those plaid pants."

"What is it?"

Aoi stepped into the hallway and pulled out the wrapped package from his coat.

"I saw it in the store, and it made me think of you," Aoi said.

"They had something in the store that wasn't a lucky pack? Can you tell my sister that?"

Aoi laughed while Sato opened the package.

"I thought it looked like the Gundam you like? Death Wing..."

"It does have the same color scheme. This is awesome! I can actually wear this to work."

Sato wrapped his arms around Aoi and gave him a tight hug. All of Aoi's muscles grew tense. Sato had been pushing the unspoken no public displays of affection rule recently, but hugging at his parents' house was worse than all the other times put together.

Then what Aoi feared most happened.

His gaze locked with Sato's mother. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes spoke of horror.

Aoi pulled away. "I need to go."

He snatched his coat and headed for the door, but Sato grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together.

Mrs. Emi gasped. "What are you doing? You can't do that in my house."

Aoi tugged his hand, but Sato wouldn't let go. They'd made a mistake, and it would be better if Aoi left. He needed to go. Sato should've known better. Why wasn't he letting him go?

"No. Mom you need to get used to Aoi being here and not shoot him dirty looks. Don't think I haven't noticed them," Sato said.

Michiko and Mr. Ken stood behind Mrs. Emi. Everyone was staring, but Sato still didn't let go. Instead he bent down and kissed Aoi's face. Not only did Aoi's cheeks grow hot, but his whole body radiated with embarrassment. Sato might've been comfortable enough to kiss in front of people, but Aoi wasn't anywhere near as close.

"If Michiko brought a boyfriend to tag along, you wouldn't care," Sato said.

Mrs. Emi crossed her arms. "That's different."

Mr. Ken shook his head and put a hand on his wife shoulder. "No, it's not. We talked about this, Emi."

"Did you see what they did? We can't allow it."

"Do you never want to see Sato again, because that's what's going to happen if you keep acting like this?"

Her lips thinned into a line, and Aoi's heart raced. Sato still hadn't let go, but listening to Mr. Ken's words, Aoi didn't mind Sato's grip as much.

"It's stupid to lose our son over something insignificant like this."

"Fine," she said between clenched teeth.

Sato squeezed Aoi's hand, but it didn't stop the pain welling up in the back of his throat. He didn't want to make Sato's parents angry.

"Let's get going to the shrine before it gets too crowded," Mr. Ken said.

Mrs. Emi uncrossed her arms. "Good. We all need to pray."

* * * *

"Go get the bucket," Aoi said.

Sato hurried and brought the wooden bucket to Aoi. Steam drifted from the steel pot filled with the mochi rice. Its subtle sweetness lingered in the crisp air. Together they dumped the rice as Mr. Ken hovered around them.

Michiko came by to check in every so often, but she and her mom mostly stayed in the kitchen making different flavorings for the mochi. Aoi could glance in the kitchen window at the ladies talking. The occasional frown on Mrs. Emi's face made it clear what the conversations were about. At least Michiko was trying to convince her mother that Aoi hadn't destroyed Sato's life.

They couldn't make Sato's favorite of sweet red bean mochi since the beans would have needed to soak overnight, but they managed with soy sauce and fermented beans.

"What do we do next?" Sato asked.

"Grab the extra mallet and help me squish the rice together."

Aoi grabbed his, and together they squished the rice.

"I want to try." Mr. Ken took his son's mallet and helped Aoi.

Aoi smiled. Mr. Ken was better at it than Sato, and after a few minutes the rice came together in a doughlike sticky ball. The mallet grew heavy in his arms, but to be fair, the handle was almost as long as he was tall. He pulled back and wiped the light sweat off his forehead. Maybe he did need to add weight training to his work out.

Snow drifted over them, dusting their clothes, but with all the movement, Aoi stripped off his coat. He tossed it on top of a snow-covered bush along the back fence. The empty flower bed had probably flourished in the spring.

"Aren't you worried about catching a cold?" Mr. Ken asked, his eyebrows knitted together just like Sato's.

"I'll be fine. Now we have to hit it in the center and turn it until it's nice and marshmallow-like. Who wants to go first?" Aoi asked.

Sato pushed up his glasses. "Maybe you should show us."

Aoi's arms were already sore from the mallet, but being exposed to the cold temperature had numbed the ache a little.

"Okay, but don't laugh," Aki said.

"Why would we do that?"

Aoi didn't answer; instead he pulled the mallet back as far as he could and hammered into the rice. His height and admitted lack of upper body strength made only a tiny tap to the top of the rubbery balled rice.

Sato snickered. "Maybe it would be better if I try next."

"Good. If I'm stuck doing it, then we won't have mochi until next year."

Aoi stood back as Sato hit the mochi directly in the center. He leaned in and gave the rice a half turn, then waited for Sato to hit it again. They repeated the process for a few minutes. Then Sato's dad had a go, with his son turning the rice.

They worked well as a team and would trade off when one of them got tired. Michiko and her mother strolled out and watched. A smile spread across both their faces.

"You're doing good!" Mrs. Emi cheered.

Mr. Ken struck the rice again. "Aoi's a good teacher."

Aoi laughed. "Maybe not when it comes to actually hitting it."

They came and Mr. Ken explained to them what they were doing. Aoi smiled, because while making mochi, no one cared about his relationship with Sato. Everyone was too fixated on the mochi to even remember the tension between them.

"Michiko, you want to give it a go?" Aoi asked.

"I want to see Mom do it first."

"I don't—"

"Here, Mom." Sato handed the mallet over.

Her lips pursed, and Aoi bit the inside of his cheek.

"It's fun once you get started." Aoi said.

"Come on, Mom. We don't want to be party poopers," Michiko said, the tone in her voice making it clear what they'd talked about while making the flavorings.

"It's a good stress reliever," Mr. Ken said.

A half smile cracked through her sour face, and she took the mallet.

"Aim for the center," Aoi said.

Mrs. Emi's strike landed right in the center.

"Wow, very good!" Aoi cheered and turned the mochi over. "Okay, do it again."

Sato's mother ended up being the best mochi smasher of the family. Out of everyone, she had the most frustration to get out.

It took about ten more minutes of beating the mochi before Aoi proclaimed it done.

They brought the plate of mochi inside and split it up. Each person got their own plate of the chewy concoction and mixed in the various flavors.

"This is the best mochi I've had." Mr. Ken stuffed another glob in his mouth.

"Be careful to take small bites," Mrs. Emi said.

"I'm not that old yet. This is so much better than the stuff at the store. It's still warm and everything."

"Can we leave the mochi stuff here for next year?" Sato asked.

"Sounds delicious. You won't have to lug it on the train with you again," his dad said.

"So we can do it again?"

"I think it makes a good new tradition."

"Let's take a picture, then," Michiko said. "Oh, I left my phone in my coat."

"I'll go get it." Aoi stood.

He walked through the living room back to the coatrack. The mochi was a success with Sato's dad, but his mom still hadn't cared to have him there. Aoi shook his head and grabbed Michiko's phone, which was trapped in a rose-printed case. He should've known it would take more than cooking skills to win them over.

He took in a deep breath and put on his best smile when he came back to the dining room.

"Okay, everyone, scoot in close so I can take the pictures," Aoi said.

He snapped a few and swallowed the lump in his throat. Sato had a good family. Even if they hadn't welcomed Sato's orientation with open arms, they were trying, which was more than Aoi's parents had done.

"Aoi, why don't you get in the picture too," Mrs. Emi said.

Aoi's mouth dropped. "B—but I'm not really—"

"You're the reason why we have the mochi. It would be wrong not to have you in the photo."

"Come on, Aoi, set it on the counter with the time delay. That's how we usually do it."

Aoi rubbed his eyes and nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak. He set up the phone and stood beside Sato. He threw an arm around Aoi's shoulder and squeezed as the phone blinked and took the photo. Aoi's cheeks hurt, he smiled so much.

They continued their meal and chatted. Mr. Ken told an embarrassing story about Sato's first visit to the eye doctor. He had kicked off his shoes and refused to get eye drops because a kid at school had said they'd blow up his eyes. Sato had wanted to keep his eyes just the way they were—even if they couldn't see the chalkboard, they were better than being in bits from exploding eye drops.

The sticky mochi made for quickly filled tummies. Mrs. Emi sectioned off the rest and put them in wrapped dishes.

She gave Aoi one. "The mochi was very good, and I look forward to when we do this again next year."

Even though it was formal and stiff, at least she sounded sincere.

Aoi bowed. "Thank you for allowing me to come."

"Well, I'd like to see my son, but you made a good addition to New Year. You'll have to go shopping with us next year too."

If carrying shopping bags and making mochi were the way into Mrs. Emi's heart, Aoi would do it every day.

Sato said his goodbyes, and they left the house smiling.

"See, that wasn't too bad, was it?" Sato said.

"Your mother actually looked happy at the end."

"It's because you're amazing."

Aoi glanced around to make sure they were alone, then planted a kiss on Sato's lips.

Aoi grinned. "Let's get home and ring in the New Year right."

The End
**About Amy Tasukada**

Amy Tasukada lives in North Texas with a calico cat called O'Hara. As an only child her day dreams kept her entertained, and at age ten she started to put them to paper. Since then her love of writing hasn't cease. She can be found drinking hot tea and filming Japanese street fashion hauls on her YouTube channel.

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Thank you for reading our book. If you enjoyed it, won't you please take a moment to leave a review at your favorite retailer?

Thank you! – Nicky Spencer, Stephen Hoppa, Addison Albright, Nell Iris, Amy Tasukada

