You Don't Know Jack

by G. R. George

  Chapter 2

  Jack clenched his jaw as his rigid cock pressed painfully against the fly of his jeans. Dev Garson, covered from head to toe in winter gear, still made him rock hard. When Jack had spotted him from across the street, his head back and tongue out waiting to taste the snow, it had taken all Jack’s willpower not to tackle him to the ground and kiss the daylights out of him. Dev had been one of Jack’s fantasies when he’d been young. It used to delight him to watch Dev trace the ornate crystal pictures on his bedroom window as the morning sunlight brought the scenes to life. He’d never met anyone with as much love for the cold as he.

  Dev had never missed checking his window in the mornings during the winter months, and in a way, he’d become Jack’s greatest desire. Even now, as he had then, he knew a relationship with a human would be impossible. He questioned his reasoning in approaching Dev in the first place. He chalked it up to a couldn’t-help-myself moment.

  When the woman in pink had kissed Dev’s pertly, pale lips, Jack had wanted so badly to trade places with her. Now, he carried the injured man to a small, but tidy ranch house.

  “I’m snow-blind!” Shelly said. “I hope you haven’t moved your furniture around, Dev, or you might end up on the ground again.”

  Jack could see just fine, and he directed the three of them to a camel-colored couch that rested against the windowed front wall of the living room. He avoided whacking his leg against the coffee table as he carefully set Dev down. Next, he opened the curtain and light flooded the room. There was an oil painting of snowy mountains on the right wall. A bookshelf on the left filled with academic books and a full set of encyclopedias, probably something his parents had bought when Dev was a child. There was an area rug that covered the dark hardwood floor in the living room. A media stand in the same wood as the coffee table that held a large flat screen television, a DVR, and a Blu-ray player, and two end tables on either side of the couch. He noted there were no Christmas decorations. Nothing in Dev’s home spoke of holiday cheer.

  After they’d settled Dev onto the couch, Shelly said, “I’ll get a washcloth so I can examine his wound.”

  “I’m fine,” Dev said.

  “Take off his gloves and his coat, Jack,” she said as she walked toward the hall.

  Jack stared down at the now prone Dev. His high school crush blinked up at Jack. Dev’s dreamy, gray-blue eyes were the color of storm clouds, angled down at the corners and deep-set. Jack’s heart started to pound.

  “Here,” he said, leaning down so he could move Dev’s chin aside and unzip his parka. “Doctor’s orders.”

  “You just want to get me out of my clothes,” Dev said, instantly blushing as the flirty words left his mouth.

  “If I thought you were serious…” Jack let the opening hang.

  Disappointingly, Dev said, “Ignore me.” He looked out the window but held up a gloved hand.

  Jack removed the glove and brushed his palm against Dev’s. The electric spark in that touch quickened Jack’s breath. He took the other glove off without lingering. This was impossible. Why was he flirting with Dev? He’d forgotten how much he liked him, which was bad considering he’d never be able to be honest with him. He wasn’t allowed to tell Dev who or what he was. It was the reason he avoided relationships. He’d never really minded because he’d never really cared. But Dev was different. He always had been.

  Dev waved his hand in front of Jack’s face to get his attention. “I can see your breath.”

  “What?” Jack blinked now.

  “I must have hit my head pretty hard because I can see your breath like a white fog.” Dev smiled. “Oh, and it feels cold.” He touched Jack’s cheek. “And your skin.” He shook his head “Ow. Not a good idea moving my head around.”

  “What about my skin?” Jack stood, a trickle of fear running down his spine.

  “You’ll laugh.”

  “I won’t, Dev.” Jack shoved his hands in his pockets to stop the tremble. “I promise.”

  “It’s all glittery like a gazillion stars against a silvery-gray sky.”

  Jack staggered back, his calves catching on the coffee table. “You really must have hit your head pretty hard. Maybe you need to go to the hospital. I have to go. I promised to help my dad…” His voice trailed off as he stumbled toward the door.

  Shelly walked in as he reached the knob. “Hey, why’s he still in his coat?”

  “I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I have to go.”

  He burst out of the door, slamming it closed behind him. He started out at a fast walk toward his father’s house, but by the time he reached the street he was in a full-on sprint.

  When he finally made it home, safe inside, he fell back against the wall and slid to the floor. His dad, a tall man with white hair, blue eyes, and the same silvery skin as Jack asked, “Are you okay, son?”

  “He can see what I am, Dad,” Jack said numbly. “Dev knows I’m a Jack Frost.”

  Chapter 3

  Three days after the “incident” as Shelly had started to call it, Monday had rolled around, and Dev was back to teaching upper-level astronomy to college students. Since Shelly was a family practice doctor, she’d insisted Dev go to the emergency room for a full workup, especially since he’d started hallucinating after his head injury. He’d really freaked Jack out with all his shiny skin talk.

  He’d hoped to get a chance to see Jack over the weekend, but he’d had no such luck. He’d researched the phenomenon of hallucination after head trauma online and found one psychiatric report a few towns over of a man who believed he saw monsters. It reminded Dev of Donnor Thomas, who’d been committed a couple years ago—right before Christmas. He’d claimed his boss was an ogre—a real one, and that his roommate at the nut house was one of Santa’s elves. Shortly after his stay in the mental hospital, Donnor had met an underwear model and they’d moved to New York.

  Lucky guy. He’d gone from insane to love-struck in the span of a few weeks. Dev wondered if crazy was a necessary component to falling in love. If it was, then he was well on his way. The hallucinations were getting more intense. In his second class of the day, he nearly had a heart attack when a young girl with blue skin and pointy ears sat in his front row. When he called out roll, she answered, “Amanda Green,” and he immediately recognized her voice, even if she didn’t look the same.

  Also, the frost art of on his window was back again. He’d noted it Saturday morning when he’d gone into his office to grade some online posts by his students. It happened Sunday too, and again this morning. The sight of wintery mountains, a beautiful lake scene, and lush pines filled Dev with an unequaled joy. Shelly, like his parents, couldn’t see the wonderlands in the finely, frosted pane. He didn’t care. It was enough that he saw it.

  Yep, crazy.

  During his office hours, he called Shelly. “I need my head examined.”

  “I’ve been telling you that for years, darling. I’m so glad you’ve come to your senses.”

  “Not by a shrink.” Dev rolled his eyes. “I think I need a neurologist.”

  “Still seeing things?” Her tone grew serious. Dev recognized it as her doctor voice. “Are you having any headaches? Nausea? Double vision?”

  “No, nothing like that, Shells.”

  “That’s Doctor Shells to you, buddy.” He could hear her clicking at a keyboard. “Okay. I have found three neurologists, but they’re all two or more hours away. Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up on my way to the hospital when I go in so we can get a CT scan done. I’ll get it scheduled, and at least we can get a radiologist to look at it to see if you have a tumor or a brain bleed or something.”

  “Those both sound like terrible options.” He regretted calling her. “I truly feel fine, Doctor Shells.”

  “Other than hallucinating, you mean?”

  “Yeah,” Dev said. “Other than that.”

  “The scan is open at two tomorrow afternoon.” More clicking on the keyboard. “I’ve added you to the schedule. Plan to
be there thirty minutes early. We’ll go without contrast for now so you can have lunch if you want.”

  “I’m so glad,” Dev said, less than thrilled.

  “Buck up, my love. Worst case, we’ll probably just see hamsters running backward on the wheel powering your brain.”

  Dev sighed. “I love you too.”

  “It’s about time you gave me your undying declaration of amor.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and it made him smile. “Tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Dev agreed. He disconnected the call and jumped in his chair when a large creature with two small tusks sticking out of his mouth walked into his office.

  “Professor Garson,” the troll-looking monster said. “Can I get help with my dissertation?” He handed Dev a neatly bound partial thesis.

  “Black Hole Theory: Science or Science Fiction”

  by Brad Painter.

  “Uh, sure, Brad. Just leave it with me.” He knew he must have looked foolish the way he avoided eye contact with the young man. “I’ll have some notes for you next week.”

  “That’s great!” the monster said, in a very excited and non-monstery voice. “I’ll stop in next Monday then.”

  Dev waved the paper in the air, effectively blocking his view of the creature. “I’ll see you then.” Maybe. If he survived the brain tumor, or whatever was making his mind play these illusionary tricks on him. His phone rang. The number was unknown, but his Midwestern politeness had him answering anyhow. “Hello.”

  “Hello, Dev,” the man on the other end said. “This is Jack.”

  “Jack?”

  “Jack Moroz.”

  “I know.” A giddy laugh rose up in him, and he stomped it down. “I’m just surprised to get a call from you.”

  “I wanted to apologize for rushing out the other day. Are you okay now?”

  “Yes, fine,” he lied.

  “Oh, great,” Jack said. “Maybe we can get a bite tonight.” He quickly added, “On me, of course. My way of apologizing.”

  “You don’t have anything to apologize for. It wasn’t like you threw Shelly on top of me.”

  “Still,” Jack said. “I shouldn’t have rushed off. Dinner?”

  Dev pushed a pile of papers to the left on his desk. They needed to be graded by Wednesday morning. “Why don’t you come to my house for dinner? I’ll order something in. We can catch up.”

  “Deal,” said Jack. “But I’m bringing dinner. Five-thirty okay?”

  “Make it six.”

  “It’s a date,” Jack said and hung up.

  Dev stared dumbstruck at his computer monitor as the screensaver bounced around hypnotically. When he could function again, he hit Shelly’s number. When she picked up, he paced his breathing and said, “Oh my God, Shells. It’s a date.” He hung up on her and ignored the onslaught of return calls and text messages from her.

  “What date?” Tall, dark, and distinguished appeared in the door of Dev’s office. Michael. His stiff lips turned downward. “Do you have a date?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Is that why you broke up with me? Because you’re seeing someone else?” Dev could hear the tight tension in Michael’s voice.

  “How many times have you broken up with me before Christmas?” Dev ached to his toes. For too many years, Michael had made him feel worthless. “I saved you the trouble this year.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Michael said in a hushed tone. “Someone might hear.”

  Dev shook his head, feeling sad, yes, but also relieved. Being without Michael was far less painful than being with him. “I have a lot of work to do.”

  “Dev. Don’t do this to me. To us.”

  “We’re done,” Dev said without rancor. “Please go.”

  Michael turned on his heel and walked away in an angry huff. Dev didn’t care. Michael was the past, and tonight he had a date with, he hoped, his future. He rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head and hoped his brain didn’t explode and ruin his dinner plans.

  Chapter 4

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to see this boy again?”

  “Not a boy, Dad. He’s my age, well, close to, anyhow.”

  The older Frost snorted. “Like I said, this boy.”

  Jack blew a fine layer of frost over their glass coffee table and started etching a bird with his thumbnail. “Besides, you know Dev Garson. He’s lived on this street his whole life.”

  “And as I recall, you had a thing for him.” His father offered a patient smile. “Still do, it appears.” He sat next to his son and waved his hand over the crystal canvas. The bird Jack had been drawing flittered to life, flying around the coffee table surface in beautiful sweeping motions. “What if he still sees you? The real you.”

  “That would be awful,” Jack said, unable to keep the derision from his tone. “You’re the one that said the effect is probably temporary.”

  “Probably, being the operative word.”

  Jack continued, “It’s been three days. That should be plenty of time for his brain to go back to normal after the head conk, right? I mean the hospital let him go home so it couldn’t have been that serious.”

  “You shouldn’t take the risk,” his father said.

  “I just want to make sure he’s okay. It’s been hard to concentrate on making winter wintery when I’m this worried.”

  “Uh-huh.” His father stood up. “Right. You’re worried.” He shook his head. “More like hormonal.”

  “Dad!”

  “This is worse than your teenage years.”

  “Dad.”

  The elder man threw up his hands. “You don’t need my permission. You’re a grown Frost. Just remember, you have responsibilities, and that doesn’t always go hand in hand with having a social life.” He scratched his chin. “Speaking of, have you heard from your mother lately?”

  Jack had. His mom called daily for updates. She was a snow elf, who worked at the North Pole. She’d taken Jack with her after his graduation to hone his Frost-craft in a safe place. The first time he’d gathered the cold air and mixed it with warm to create a perfect union between the two, it had overjoyed him. It had been a gentle snowfall, large healthy flakes, and the pride in his mother’s eyes as she watched Jack inherit his father’s gift had been icing on the cake. “She’s ready for your retirement.”

  “Yes,” his dad said, his expression wistful. “But not until I’m sure you’re ready.” The downturn at the corner of his eyes mirrored the frown on his lips.

  “I’m ready, Dad.”

  “The way you’re carrying on about the Garson boy makes me think you are less than resolved.” He put a comforting hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You know a relationship with a human is out of the question. Right, son?” His tone was soft and full of compassion. ”We are of this world, but not their world. They believe we are fairytales, something to incite wonder in their children. It’s the only way we can coexist peacefully with their kind.”

  Jack knew his father was simply being honest, not cruel. He looked around the empty living room, void of decoration or any holiday cheer. Just like Dev’s house. “Maybe we can put up a tree this weekend.”

  The senior Jack smiled. “That’d be nice, son.” He crossed his arms and looked around. “Maybe some lights, too.”

  “Yes, some lights too.” Jack grinned.

  His father walked to him and put his hands on either side of Jack’s shoulders. “Be careful, son. You can’t build a foundation on secrets, but your heart may not care. And once given, it can be impossible to get back.”

  Jack shrugged, ignoring the ache in his chest. “It’s just dinner.”

  Chapter 5

  Dev arrived home at four in the afternoon just before it started to sleet and rain. He vacuumed the carpets, lit two pumpkin pie spiced candles, wiped down the drain boards, set the table with his parent’s holly patterned plates, and clock watched. He’d done a little decorating. Since Jack had popped back into his life, he’d caught the
holiday bug.

  However, he wished he’d insisted on cooking instead of letting Jack bring the meal. Keeping his mind and hands busy would have taken the edge of the fireflies dancing in his belly. He didn’t want to like Jack so much. It would be easier if he could care less how the man felt about him.

  What did it matter? Jack had only come back to town to help his father. It dawned on Dev he didn’t even know what Mr. Moroz did for a living. He thought it strange that he lived just down the block from a neighbor he knew so little about, but really, other than Shelly, Dev didn’t know much about any of his neighbors. He wondered if his mother had been close to Jack’s mom? He remembered Jack’s mother as pretty in a doe-like way, large green-blue eyes, small upturned nose, narrow mouth, and a tapered, heart-shaped face. Jack had her eyes. His dad was a tall man, who still had a thick head of dark hair. Dev smiled, thinking of Jack’s hair. He wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through the thick strands.

  The knock at five-fifty startled Dev from his fantasy. A thrill of eagerness pulsed along his skin as he rushed to open the door.

  “Hello,” he said before looking up to see Michael Corrigan, all five-ten of him with his distinguished graying hair, his sparkling blue eyes, and his charming dimples.

  In Michael’s right hand he held a bottle of wine, and in his left a small box with a bow. “I know it’s not Christmas yet, but…” He handed the gift to Dev and stepped inside without waiting to be invited. “It’s all cinnamon and spice in here.”

  “Yes,” Dev said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve never been fond of cinnamon.” His sharp, Roman nose wrinkled as if offended by the odor. Dev resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

  “You can’t stay.” Dev checked his watch. Eight minutes until Jack. “I’ve got plans.”

  “Oh?” Michael raised a brow. His mouth quirked into his patented flirty smile. “I was hoping I could be your plan.”

  Dev sighed. Heavily. The fireflies in his belly were starting to tornado. “We can’t do this right now, Michael.”