"Could you at least turn your sweater off if we're going to have this conversation?" I didn't need to have a seizure from all the blinking as a follow-up to my coughing fit.
She fiddled with the battery pack, and the little lights went out.
I started to speak, but Shelley held up her hand. "I know it's a big deal, okay? But you've already broken away from your family, and no one who counts at work would raise any serious objections. If you want Dane, if you've realized you like men or that you like men and women, there's nothing holding you back from going out with Dane besides you."
"I… Yeah, you're right, but I'm not sure I can handle it. I've made myself into a completely different person, given up almost everything I was taught to believe, and now, I'm supposed to do that again."
"You're supposed to open yourself up to the possibility of being with someone."
I took a bite of my double pepperoni calzone, hoping it would help the light-headed feeling the conversation was bringing on. "And ignore that the someone is a man?"
Shelley shook her head. "Ignore might not be the right word, but you shouldn't let it bother you. You need to do something just for yourself."
I stared at her. Where had she been? "Don't you get it? I've done all this for me: changed schools, kept my grades up, learned how to think for myself, left my family, found a good job when my parents told me I wouldn't. All of that has been for me."
"All of that is to show your family that you can succeed without them, but other than figuring out what you actually believe, how much of that has made you happy?"
"I enjoy my job." I was lucky to be doing marketing design for a profitable company. Too many others who'd graduated with me had taken jobs outside their field.
Shelley nodded. "Okay, but do you love working almost nonstop?"
"I have to prove—"
"Exactly. You want to prove something to your family and yourself, but you have to slow down before you burn out."
"I can't handle any more change."
"What if you can't handle not making a change? Don't spend Christmas working. Please."
"What do you want me to do? Watch It's A Wonderful Life over and over?"
Shelley grinned. "I'd advocate mixing it up with A Christmas Story and the occasional viewing of Rudolph."
"That Santa in Rudolph was mean. I don't like him."
She laughed. "Yeah, he was. I'm surprised you've actually seen it, though. I thought you hated Christmas specials."
"After not being allowed to watch them as a kid, I had to figure out what I was missing, cultural literacy and all that." Without meaning to, I started to hum the tune to "Holly Jolly Christmas". It was one of those songs that once I got it stuck in my head I couldn't get it out. But I wasn't sure I'd ever been truly "jolly" in my life. Happy, yes, on occasion. But "jolly" seemed to imply a level of fun-loving, relaxed happiness I was unlikely to achieve.
Shelley started singing, loudly, to accompany me.
I glared at her but she finished the verse she was on.
"I've never had one," I said.
She gave me a questioning look.
"A holly jolly Christmas. I doubt I ever will."
She narrowed her eyes. "You know what I think?"
"I doubt I want to."
"I think you're a closet Christmas fan. You love the music, the movies, the decorations; you just don't want to admit it."
I was building my defense when she changed subjects.
"Speaking of closets—"
I interrupted her before things got even more embarrassing. "I like Dane, okay? I enjoy looking at men sometimes, but I've never wanted to go out with one before."
"What else do you want to do with him?"
"Shelley." I squeezed my eyes closed, willing the humiliation to end.
"I'm just trying to gauge your interest."
My cheeks heated until I was certain they were bright red.
"Ah, there's full-fledged interest, then."
"Can we please talk about something else?"
Shelley relented, probably deciding she'd tortured me enough. "Pie. Let's talk pie. My grandma makes absolutely the best pumpkin pie in the world, and I'm going to bring you some back."
"Thanks."
"Well, I'm going to try to anyway. I was going to bring you back some cake last time I went home, but I ate it on the plane. Hopefully, I won't get delayed this time."
I shook my head. I loved Shelley, but she exhausted me sometimes.
Chapter Two: A Touch of Christmas Spirit
I'd promised Shelley I wouldn't spend Christmas day working. I'd not promised her I would call Dane. He surely had holiday plans anyway. Nevertheless, I spent all weekend thinking about him.
Once I even pulled out my phone and started to call him. I'd memorized his number before I threw it away, and my damn brain wouldn't forget it. My hand shook as I stared at my phone's screen, and my stomach clenched like I might throw up. I'd tossed the phone on the bed and gone for a run without it.
On Monday I waited in the long line at the coffee shop down the street from my building, pretending I wasn't annoyed by people wrapped up in scarves and hats, playing winter when it was fifty-eight degrees. I even plastered on a fake smile and said 'Happy Holidays' to the barista when she handed me my holiday-themed cup filled with a gingerbread latte with whipped cream rather than my usual black coffee. And Shelley said I didn't know how to have fun. What's not fun about overpriced Christmased-up coffee? The fact that I didn't care for this shop's regular brew had nothing to do with my fanciful choice. I was a fun person.
I scurried through the lobby of my building not daring to even glance toward The Coffee Bean. If I saw Dane, I'd either pass out or dump my latte in the trash, run into the shop, and beg Dane for a large black coffee lovingly poured by his own hand. Possibly, I'd ask for a hell of a lot more.
Tuesday morning, I repeated the process except with a grande Americano—the gingerbread syrup had been shudder inducing, but I'd suffered through it to get the caffeine into me.
I pulled out my phone to send a text as I entered my building, using it as an excuse not to look across the lobby. And then it happened: I collided with a man who was walking toward me. My coffee flew out of my hand, my phone crashed to the floor, and I was too embarrassed to look at the person. Mumbling an apology, I squatted to grab the coffee cup before the rest of the brew poured onto the floor.
"Here you go." The man I'd run into handed me my phone. His voice… It was familiar. I looked up and saw Dane.
"Um…hi. I…um…I'm really sorry."
"That's okay. I'd been hoping I'd run into you, although not quite so dramatically."
My gaze dropped to his lips. They looked so soft. How would they feel? How would they taste?
I rose to my feet and took a step backward. The lobby tilted and I worried I was going to fall.
Dane grabbed my arm. "Are you okay?"
His hold on me was comforting, but I needed him to let go, because the way I felt about him terrified me.
"I think you got the wrong impression. I'm not…"
Dane waited, watching me, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
I couldn't say the words. I wasn't going to lie and say I wasn't gay or bi or whatever I was, not when I was half-hard just from being close to him.
After a few more seconds, Dane released my arm. "I've got to get back to work. If you figure out how to finish that sentence, call me. You still have my number, don't you?"
"225-555-0164," I said without even thinking. If I hadn't already been blushing, I would have then.
He smiled. "I hope I'll hear from you soon."
He walked off and I stood there in a puddle of coffee, wondering what the hell I was going to do.
* * * * *
When I got home on December twenty-third, I had to face the fact that I had two days off work and no plans. Shelley wouldn't know if I worked on Christmas, but I was terrible liar, and she would expect me to tell
her what I'd done instead.
I'd stayed at work late, deliberately trying to keep my mind off Dane. I'd picked up dinner on the way home. Once I'd eaten, cleaned up my apartment a bit, and now freshly showered, I was ready for bed. Despite being exhausted, I stared at the ceiling for a long time, thinking about Dane, about what Shelley had said to me, and hating my reluctance. Panic fluttered in my chest every time I imagined calling him. There was no way I was going to make myself do it.
At some point, I drifted off to sleep, but I woke several times, hard from dreams of Dane but stubbornly refusing to do anything about it.
Sometime around six, I gave up trying to sleep. I was sweaty, despite the unusually cool morning air coming through my window. Images from my dreams flitted through my mind, and I gave into what my body needed. I wrapped my hand around my cock and slid it slowly up and down as I imagined Dane leaning over me. His soft lips taunted me, and I raised up, kissing him and groaning.
I pumped my cock faster as I imagined Dane's hands on me, touching my throat, my chest, brushing over my nipples, sliding down my abdomen. In my mind, his hand was the one gripping my cock. I was so close: heat built, my balls tightened, precum slicked my way, making it easier to slide up and down my shaft even faster, twisting my hand over the head on every stroke.
I reached for my balls, tugging on them, and I cried out as my orgasm slammed through me. In my mind, Dane smiled at me as I writhed on the bed, shooting over and over, spunk landing all the way up my chest.
"Fuck," I said with a harsh exhale.
Wow, that was good. What would it be like if he'd actually been there?
Suddenly, I knew I had to find out. I jumped out of bed and raced to the bathroom. As quickly as possible, I showered and dressed and then I rushed downstairs. Would he be at The Coffee Bean? I prayed he would. I still didn't know if I'd be able to make myself call him, but if I could find him serving coffee, I could just go in, place an order, and ask him out.
I moved so fast I nearly ran over several people who appeared to be in a Christmas shopping daze, probably headed to the Last Minute Craft Fair. I pushed my way through the revolving door and into the lobby. I glanced at the counter of the coffee shop, but I didn't see him. Damn. Had I'd missed my chance?
Then he stepped out from the back, and I raced over and joined the line. Dane saw me after a few seconds. His eyes widened, and he almost dropped the cup he was holding.
He didn't look at me again as he worked quickly through drink after drink.
"Large brewed coffee," I ordered when I reached the counter.
Dane reached for a cup. When he handed it to me, I let my hand brush his. "When do you get off work?"
"Noon. We're closing then."
"Would you—"
"Dane, there's a line." The other guy who was working looked pissed.
"Yeah, just a sec."
"Would you like to…um—"
"Yes," he answered as if I'd finished my question. "Pick me up here."
He stepped into the gap between the counters and kissed my cheek. "Merry Christmas. Now get moving before I lose my job."
I sucked in my breath at his boldness. I wanted to grab him, because I needed more than that quick brush of lips over my cheek. But I still had enough sense to know that I had to wait, even though the pent-up desire of the last few weeks threatened to toss me over the brink of insanity. "Okay."
Dane had to push at my chest to get me moving, and I almost forgot to grab my coffee.
* * * * *
At home, I considered changing my outfit, then reconsidered, then considered it again. I cursed the fact that Shelley would be at a family celebration where I shouldn't bother her. But that was probably for the best. I could just imagine her giggles.
I'd never worried about what I wore beyond being sure to err on the side of professional for anything related to my job. I wasn't even sure what someone my age was supposed to wear to a lunch date. I finally gave up and went with the original outfit of jeans and a button-down that Dane had already seen.
Once that decision was made, all I had to think about was how likely it was I was going to screw this up. I was a wreck and I was likely to panic. Then I remembered his hand on my arm, his lips against my cheek.
But I had to talk to him. I couldn't just grab him and kiss him. What was I thinking anyway? I'd never kissed a guy, and he'd probably kissed…well, several guys, tens of guys, if not hundreds probably. Hell, I didn't know. I didn't really know anything about him except that he had a great smile and was always nice to me when I got coffee even if I was acting like a grumpy asshole. Although now I also knew that his beard felt just as soft as I expected it to.
What was I doing? I was in over my head, but probably we wouldn't spend long together. He likely had last-minute shopping to do or family plans or something. Most people did on Christmas Eve. Maybe I could hold myself together for just a little while.
I was going out with a man. I was going to shake my life up again. This is a mistake. I could just text him, let him know I couldn't make it after all. I could…
Tom! Don't you dare.
Shelley's voice was in my head scolding me.
That would be an asshole thing to do. I'd avoided Dane like a coward for almost two weeks. I'd not given him the courtesy of a call or even a text. I could've at least sent a message back to him through Shelley. He deserved an explanation.
Explain that you're afraid to go out with a man, afraid to accept any more change, is that what you want to do when you're with him?
A vivid image from my early-morning fantasies flashed through my mind, and I groaned. No, explaining my psychoses was not what I wanted to do, but was it what I should do?
You should have some fun, do something for yourself.
But wasn't all this for me, what I'd done for the last four years?
Isn't it time to stop thinking of everything in your life as work and start thinking about what makes you happy?
My therapist had said those words to me shortly before I'd decided I didn't have time to make it to regular sessions if I was going to prove myself at what was then a brand-new job. Maybe I should go back to therapy. Maybe I should stop worrying about everyone else's opinion.
I'd thought that was what I was doing when I told my family I was transferring schools and no longer attending church. I did stop pretending to believe what others told me to; that was true. But I hadn't stopped thinking about how everyone was judging me—my family for not believing as they did, my friends for my background, for ever having believed as my family did, my boss for any errors I might make on the job. I was defensive, busy trying to prove myself to everyone and not having any fun.
Dane was a man who knew how to have fun, or at least he seemed that way, carefree, easy. Even when there was a huge line in the shop and he was working the espresso machine, he never seemed in a rush. He just took each thing as it came.
I wasn't going to stand him up. I was a better person than that. I owed it to both of us, and like Shelley said, we could just go out, have lunch, get to know each other. We didn't have to… Damn. There were those images in my head again. Yeah, I was definitely into men, or at least into Dane.
* * * * *
By eleven forty-five, I was back in the lobby of my building. I forced myself to wait there rather than going into The Coffee Bean and mooning over Dane while he cleaned up and got the shop ready for closing. There were a few customers sitting at tables, but otherwise, things were quiet. Most of the businesses in the building were closed or only had a few employees working since it was Christmas Eve.
At noon, Dane ushered the two remaining customers out, closed and locked the door, and flipped the sign to Closed. He waved to me, then held up a finger indicating I should wait.
I watched as he wiped down tables and put the chairs up on them. Finally, he pulled off his apron and headed into the back. A few minutes later, he reappeared and slipped out the door. The other guy who'd been working locked it agai
n behind him.
"Hi," Dane said when he was only a few feet from me. I stood and clasped my hands together, trying to stop them from shaking.
"Hi."
"So…lunch?" he asked.
"Yeah. Lunch."
He seemed nervous too, something I hadn't expected, but then, I wasn't very good at putting people at ease.
"I know a great Lebanese place that's tucked away and not likely to be overly crowded today. How does that sound?" Dane asked.
"Fantastic."
"Okay, come on, then."
He took my hand and tugged me toward the door. I almost pulled away in shock, but something in my chest loosened from the warmth of his touch and his utter conviction that I was going to follow him. I was okay with what was happening, even him touching me in public. Dane's presence did something to me that allowed me to simply follow my heart.
He squeezed my hand before letting it go as we stepped into the street. He walked quickly but not as fast as I usually did on my way to work. We turned down a street I wasn't sure I'd ever been on. A block later, a cracked and dirty sign advertising Farid's Restaurant stuck out from the wall over a doorway where the paint was peeling off the trim.
"Um, you're sure this place is…"
"The best. You've never tasted shawarma like Farid's and the hummus—a perfect balance of garlicky and lemony. You're going to love it."
I followed him inside. He was right. There were only a few other customers there. The Last Minute Craft Fair crowds and other Christmas Eve shoppers weren't likely to wander into this place.
An elderly Lebanese man waved to Dane from the kitchen and gestured toward a table. There were menus tucked between the napkins and condiments, but Dane laid his hand on mine when I started to reach for one.
"Do you trust me to order?"
Apparently, I trusted him for a lot more than that. "Yes."
A few moments later, a teenage boy came to take our orders. Dane said, "We'd like a sampler platter, an extra order of shawarma, and two Abita ambers."
"Yes, Mr. Dane."
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