Page 1 of The Fireman and the Flirt

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CARY

Ithought I’d been in shock before, but those other times were total fakers. This here, right now, was the real deal. I could feel every cell in my body freeze as I processed the three-word sentence my friend Cal had nonchalantly tossed off.

Derek is back.

Derek, as in Derek Hogan. As in the guy I was obsessed with in high school, the guy that made going to high school bearable at all, the guy that confirmed every time I laid eyes on him that yes, I was one-hundred-percent, balls-to-the-wall gay.

When I was in high school, I believed that Derek Hogan was the most attractive guy I’d ever seen in my life. Now, twenty years later, with the benefit of hindsight and an adulthood exposed to copious amounts of porn and all four famous Chrises, I could confirm that my teenage self was correct. Derek Hogan remained the most attractive guy I’d ever laid eyes on.

Broad shoulders and big chest.

Shaggy, dirty blond hair that I would’ve given my soul to comb my fingers through.

Jason Priestley-esque sideburns, which—believe me—wereitback in the day.

I hadn’t laid eyes on him in twenty years though, but that didn’t stop my mind from rebooting my crush at the mention of his name, like some perverse Pavlovian experiment.

“Cary, did you hear me?” Cal snapped his fingers in my face, loud enough for everyone in the diner to hear over the Christmas music.

“What? Yes. Town’s back in Derek.”

Good Lord. Just the mention of Derek was making me stroke out. I was convinced that the crushes you had as a teenager did something to your brain. It permanently and irrevocably wired your neural pathways. Anytime I went out with a guy, it was inevitable that I’d measure them against Derek subconsciously. Here I was, a forty-year-old man instantly reduced to a horny puddle of a fifteen-year-old at the mere mention of a guy that I’d said no more than a few words to in my life.

You had to be there. Derek Hogan was a moment in time. He and his fellow hockey players had barreled through the halls like it was their own personal kingdom. The twinkle in his eye every time he smiled, as if life was one ongoing inside joke, made me fall harder for him.

Meanwhile, I was short, skinny, invisible, and deep in the closet. The only thing in my eye was astigmatism. Fortunately, that was corrected with contact lens, while puberty gave me height. I was trim now, instead of skinny. But I’d always be that invisible twink stuck in the late ‘90s.

“Cary.” Cal snapped his fingers in my face again, this time with growing impatience. “Stay with me.”

“Sorry. I’m here. Derek is…”

“Back.”

“Right.” I nodded, picturing the V of his corded back muscles through his T-shirts.

Cal held up his fingers, about to snap for a third time. I gently pushed them down.

“What’s going on with you? Have you had your iced coffee yet?” Cal asked, which was a fair question.

“I’ve had two. I thought Derek lived in Alaska or something.” From what I remembered, he moved out there shortly after graduating high school. The Inuits were so lucky.

“He was living out there with his daughter…”

“Working on an oil rig, right?” I asked, mostly to confirm that my fantasy of his jacked body slicked up with oil was accurate.

“He had transitioned to working as a foreman once his daughter was born.”

Oooh, that meant he liked to give orders. Hot.

“And he worked as a volunteer firefighter,” Cal said.

A fireman? Double hot.

“Hot,” I said, my brain and mouth not thinking that one through. “I mean, are fires hot in Alaska since it’s so cold there?”

“Yes. Fire is hot. Do you want me to order you another iced coffee?” Cal was about to flag down our waiter, but I shook my head no and managed a weak smile as an apology.

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