Page 11 of 12 Gays of Christmas

“How did you think of that?”

“Does it matter?” I yank my basket from him, not paying attention as I grab something to fold. My movements are jerky. Colin has no faith in me. He doesn’t think I can do this. He thinks I lack imagination.

His hand covers mine again. “I’m sorry, Gil.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re assaulting your hoodie.” He tugs each of my fingers free. “And I can’t be a witness to that crime. Maybe let me fold it so your hoodie can live to see another day.”

I scrub my hands over my face. My anger is gone. Colin didn’t mean anything by his comment, but something in his voice tells me I’ve done something wrong. “Will you go with me?”

His sharp intake of breath catches my attention. Colin clutches my polar bear boxer briefs and stares at me. I don’t know what to process first: Colin touching my underwear and what it would feel like if I were wearing them, or the hope I glimpsed, there and gone, in his dazzling green eyes? He blinks and frowns, staring at the underwear without seeing them. No smartass remarks?

I bought the underwear because they were cute. I also bought some sexy ones. In preparation. God, I don’t want him to find them. I’m so pathetic.

I jerk my underwear out of his hands. “I still need your help. When I’m with a guy, I get tongue-tied. I don’t know what to say.”

“You’re great with people. I’m the awkward dork.”

“It’s not the same. I’m worried he’ll think I’m too dumb. Or too smart. How should I act?”

“Jesus, Gil,” Colin says, standing so quickly that he dumps his basket of folded clothes. He jams them back in without any regard for folding or neatness. His voice cracks as he says, “I’m not holding your hand through every date. Stop trying so hard. Be yourself, and you’ll get laid in no time. Then we can focus on something that matters.”

I hold my boxers close to my chest. I’m still standing. Still breathing. Not lying on the field with the wind knocked out of me from an unexpected punch to my solar plexus like that time I was speared by a helmet.

He stomps to the doorway of his room and stops. His back is rigid as he yanks his hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean that,” he says, facing me. “I can’t go with you. But text me if you get stuck, okay?” And then he disappears into his room.

A two-hundred-pound weight is crushing my chest. Grabbing my clothes, I start to toss them in the basket, but then I stop. I’m trying to do better, so instead, I carefully fold my remaining clothes. It helps me focus. Colin is tired of helping me. Tired of my entire pathetic plan. Why did I involve him?

Because I can’t do this on my own.

And, unfortunately, that is still painfully true.

* * *

COLIN

After refoldingmy clothes and rearranging all the drawers in my dresser, I head to the kitchen to find something to eat. I don’t wait and listen for Gil’s footsteps and the door slamming to indicate he’s left for his date. I’m not sulking or feeling sorry for myself because it’s Friday night, and I’m alone eating cold pizza.

Gil needs my help. Not for me to go off on him like an irate lineman. I have no problem with him going out with his glittery twink. I’m totally fine with it. Maybe fine is a strong word, but I’m very close to okay with it. No, the thing that breaks my heart is the fact he’s taking date number three ice skating. That’s my dream date. And I’m sure I’ve told him that.

But it had been in vague terms. Because I’m not admitting to Gil that I’m a hopeless romantic. And that is a romantic date. And so what if the footballer dickwad I dated never took me on romantic dates? He’d been too busy taking out his actual girlfriend. I shake off those memories.

I should be impressed that Gil is making progress. Thinking with his head and his heart. Not with his dick.

Just thinking about Gil and glitter twink ice skating leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Jesus. Or maybe that’s just the pizza. I spit the bite out. Maybe it’s bad. I throw the rest of it in the trash. We used to have food. I did a budget. We’d go grocery shopping together. And now he’s ice skating with a glittery barista and looking for someone else to hang out with.

Gil also likes to order out. And the amount of money we’ve spent on takeout and DoorDash is horrifying. That’s the reason I haven’t done my budget recently. Avoiding the facts. Like the fact that someday soon, Gil will find himself a boyfriend. All he has to do is stop going after guys who aren’t his type and be himself. Those two things are all that’s keeping him from succeeding. And while I have told him that, I don’t want Gil to take my advice. Which makes me a very selfish roommate and friend. But the thought of losing him hurts. I’d be left with no roommate. No friend.

And I don’t think I can go through that all over again.

I order from the taco place and search the freezer. Yup, we still have ice cream. Tacos and ice cream can fix anything.

Until I get the text.

Annoying Roommate: Help me. Please?

* * *

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