Page 29 of 12 Gays of Christmas

“Where to?” I ask when I pick Tomas up at the museum and introductions are out of the way.

“My place. So I can get changed, and then we can enjoy dessert.” He grins, and I’m not sure if he’s kidding.

I give him a quick glance. “How long have you worked at the museum?”

“About six months.”

“I bet it’s cool being around all that history and art.”

“Sure. If by cool, you mean boring as hell. Then, yeah, totally.”

“Okay—hey there. Hold on,” I say, grabbing his roaming hand.

“Oh, honey, I am trying to hold on.”

“And I’m trying not to crash.”

I grip his hand tight, trying to ignore the fact that I’m again in this situation. But holding this guy’s hand does nothing for me. Unlike holding Colin’s hands. I focus on not crashing.

We reach his place without incident, so I count that as a win. It’s the only one I get because as soon as we step through the door of his apartment, he starts undressing.

“It feels so good to be out of this uniform.” He stretches, unashamed of being almost nude in front of a stranger. Not that he has anything to be ashamed of. His body is tight and lean. And I appreciate the view. But my nerves are screaming at me to slow the heck down. He crooks his finger and sheds more clothing as I follow him to his bedroom. I stop at the door. I’m not sure what to do. He’s down to lacy panties, and my dick definitely approves. He steps closer and slides his hands up my chest. “Maybe we should skip dinner and go right to dessert. I have chocolate, and I’d love for you to cover me.” He takes my hand and presses it against his already hard cock. I squeeze without thinking. It’s more of a reflex at this point, but he makes some pretty sounds, and my dick is definitely on board. “And if you’re good, Gil, sweetie, I’ll let you fuck me. Would you like that?”

“I, um…”

He doesn’t seem to require an answer. He kisses me, his tongue sliding against mine, and it’s hot. Or it would be hot if I wasn’t comparing it to Colin and his all-consuming kisses. And, of course, Tomas assumes I want to top. That isn’t what I want, but could I? This whole thing would be done. And isn’t that my goal?

Stop thinking with your heart, I tell myself. The perfect first time doesn’t exist.

DAY SEVEN: TUESDAY AND THE MUSIC-LOVING HUNK, AKA MALL GUY

DECEMBER 19

COLIN

The giant chalkboard taunts me.Our tiny apartment has an open floor plan, so I can see it from the kitchen. It seems like ages ago that Remi helped me haul it from the old coffee shop. I had outbid a high school English teacher for it. The coffee shop menu written in yellow and pink chalk had stayed on there for the longest time. Now I have a list of guys…types of guys…and the latest one is still there:Himbo.

Gil hasn’t crossed it off. Or gotten up. My emotions are all jumbled, and I’m not sure what to do. Scream? Demand answers? Cry?

That guy was more than willing to hook up with Gil. And maybe this is the best thing to happen. Now, I won’t have to watch him contort himself into someone he isn’t just to have a chance with someone. Remi offered to hang out, but I reminded him we weren’t friends.

I sip my coffee and stare at the additions to the list. If the himbo doesn’t work, the librarian will definitely be interested. Darcy is the sweetest, sunniest guy I’ve ever met. He never gets flustered, and he smiles at everyone, no matter how awful they are. The last one on the list bothers me:Science Nerd. I mean, that’s basically me. Would Gil rather date and fuck some random guy who likes science?It’s not like you’re an option.

Gil’s bedroom door squeaks and then the bathroom door closes. That gives me enough warning so I can remove the grumpy look from my face. Why am I so pissy? He told me his plan. He executed his plan.

“What are you up to?” Gil asks on his way to the coffee pot. He grabs a French Vanilla pod—usually indicating a good mood—and my stomach sinks. Perfect. But I continue to smile.

“Making a list.”

“Checking it twice?” he asks with a grin.

“Funny.”

“Which side am I on? Naughty or nice?”

I nod at the chalkboard. “You tell me.”

He focuses on doctoring his coffee with creamer and sugar a little too long. When he does answer, it’s only a shrug. As he sips his coffee, he closes his eyes and sighs in satisfaction. I shift in my seat and glance away. I pretend to check my phone so I’m not just staring at him.

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