Page 10 of 12 Gays of Christmas

“What’s your point, Gil?”

And what can I say? That Colin hates the sport and jocks but still watches the games enough to know what’s going on? Or that maybe Colin watches the games because I’m playing? “No point.”

We wait in silence for the clothes to dry. I consider messing with Remi’s laundry, but that might start a war I’d no doubt lose. And the way Colin watches me, he seems protective of the guy’s stuff. What is the deal between them? And why the hecking-heck do I care?

After the dryers stop, Colin starts folding. We usually do this in the living room, and after his third glance at the door, I understand today’s change. He doesn’t want to leave Remi’s clothes unguarded.

I start folding, resigned to being here until Remi returns. After about ten minutes, the door swooshes open and Remi walks in like he owns the place. “You losers still here?”

Colin snorts. “We weren’t leaving your stuff—”

“That’s sweet—”

“So you could blame us if something went wrong.”

“See,” Remi says with a grin and a shake of his head, “that was my plan all along. To have you owe me for life.”

Is heflirtingwith Colin? Oh, heck no. Before I can get in his face and tell him Colin is mi—my roommate—Colin grabs my arm and pulls me toward the door. “Let’s go. We have things to do. Boyfriends to find.”

Remi laughs. “Good luck with that.”

Once in our apartment and settled on the living room couch, we continue folding our clothes. Colin is almost done, but I still have a full basket.

“So, who is this sassy twink with a cute smile who likes glitter?”

“I told you. It’s not someone specific.”

“Sure, okay.”

The edges of my shirt won’t line up, so I roll it into a ball. I’m done with this stupid conversation and my stupid shirt. Colin’s hand covers mine, and my skin practically jumps, and then sighs in relief. What the hecking-heck? I glance up, and our eyes meet. My heart pounds louder than the old washing machines downstairs.

He tugs my shirt free from my grasp. “We’ve discussed this,” he says, giving me a crooked smile. “Don’t wad it up like that. Now, where are you taking that sassy barista from the student union coffee shop?”

“How did you know?” I ask, watching him expertly fold my shirt until it is too perfect to ever wear again.

“I know what you like, Gil. Obviously better than you.”

Obviously not.But I keep that to myself. “If he says yes—”

“He will. He eye-fucks you every time we get coffee.” Colin grabs my basket and starts folding the rest of my clothes.

“Is that why you suggested we go to the Starbucks off campus?”

“Starbucks coffee is better. Focus. Where are you taking him?”

“Ice skating at the rink across town.”

Colin stops, holding a pair of my joggers in his hands. “Really? That’s…” He lets out a breath.

“What?”

“Unexpected.”

I grab the joggers to get his attention. “In a good way? Or a what-are-you-thinking way?”

His eyebrows rise. “This was your idea?”

“Yeah? So?” My stomach is being salty. Churning. Wanting to expel my hastily eaten salad and protein shake lunch. Why do I care if Colin thinks I can’t be interesting?

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