Page 1 of 12 Gays of Christmas

DAY ONE: WEDNESDAY AND THE GROWLY BEAR

DECEMBER 13

GIL

I drawa line through the wordsGrowly Bear (with a hairy ass)on the giant chalkboard that takes up prime picture-hanging real estate on our living room wall.

“I did not consent to this,” Colin Attwood, my roommate, says in a dry tone from his place on the couch. He barely looks up from his advanced statistics textbook.

“You didn’t say no.” I feel a bit of satisfaction when Colin jerks up from his studying and stares at me with those impossibly emerald-green eyes. If I had my roommate’s perfect skin and those gorgeous eyes, I’m sure I’d have better luck getting a boyfriend. Although guys not being interested isn’t really the problem. I tap my fingers against my lips, hiding my smile.

“I did, actually. My exact words were, ‘No fucking way, Gil, are we having a list of guys you want to dick down on our living room wall.’”

I try to hold in a giggle. Another thing that doesn’t fit my jock image. Football players don’t giggle. Colin doesn’t mind these fits of humor. Although his current death glare says otherwise. Okay, usually, Colin doesn’t mind. “Are you ready for your final tomorrow?” I nod toward the open textbook and the scrawl-filled notebook next to it.

“Almost. No thanks to you. And don’t change the subject.”

“Which subject? My getting dicked down?”

He joins me at the chalkboard and shakes his head. I’m unsure if his look is one of frustration or if it has dipped into exasperation territory. “You’re crossing off the growly bear from last night, so I’d say there was no dick—”

I slap a hand over my roommate’s mouth. “Enough talking about my dick. He’s either going to get a complex or become interested, and neither is appropriate right now.”

Instead of removing his hand as I expect, Colin licks my palm. I jerk away with a squeak. “Ew,” I say, wiping my hands on my jeans and ignoring the spark of interest from other parts of my body. It’s all the dick-talk. Definitely not the feel of Colin’s tongue on my skin.

I risk a glance at Colin. He’s frowning at the board. “This list is oddly specific,” he says, crossing his arms and staring at me as if I have bugs crawling all over me. Maybe not bugs. He likes bugs.

Okay, he likes me. Although tolerates is probably more accurate. We’ve been roommates for almost two years. But instead of getting closer, we’re growing further apart. Maybe if I didn’t have a gay-man hit list on his wall, he’d like me better.

“You said specificity is a good thing.”

“In telling me what you want from China King. Not”—he gestures at the board—“whatever this is. Jesus, Gil.” He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just, please, erase it.”

“What? No. No fu—hecking way.” I’m tired of being the stereotypical football player. I started cussing my freshman year, and now I’m trying to…not cuss. At least this part of the mask is easy to take off. Other things, aren’t. “Come on, Colin.”

It is his chalkboard. If he insists, I’ll have to take it down, but I wouldn’t be nice about it.

“Why do you need a list? I can’t tell if this is a menu you’re choosing from—sassy twink today, growly bear tomorrow—or if it’s a to-do list you’re working your way down.”

I push the air out of my lungs. I don’t want Colin mad at me. Mostly because early on, I’d had to have a talk with my dick about things not to want. And angry Colin—no, passionate Colin—makes my dick forget all about our little agreement. “It’s a to-do list. Something to complete before Christmas.”

His mouth drops open and then snaps shut. His face turns an interesting shade of purple I’ve never seen before but would love to study. “I can’t—a to-dolist?”

Crap.“No.” I shake my head frantically. “That’s not—”

Colin holds up a hand to stop my words. “Gil…I…” He doesn’t look at me as he seems to choke on every word he attempts.

Choking sounds that have my dick again taking notice. I’m twenty-two. My dick always takes notice.

This is all my fault. Colin’s anger. And my dick’s defiance. Because I lied to them both.

Colin and I attend Annelon Springs University just north of the Iowa-Missouri border. He has a full ride because he’s smart as heck. I have a football scholarship because I’m good at tackling people and catching things. I’m also good at math, but who wants a smart jock?

There’s another stereotype I don’t fit. The one that says jocks get all the sex they want. I wasn’t out in high school, and although I dated a few girls, I didn’t sleep with them.

In college, I came out. Well, not exactly. It was more I arrived out and pretended this was how it had always been. I still get some crap from jackholes, but for the most part, no one cares. There is only one thing I left in that closet. The fact that at twenty-two, I’m still a virgin. And did I mention I’m a jock?

“Breathe, Colin,” I say to my still-purple-but-bordering-on-mulberry roommate.

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