A Holiday Story

Hi folks – if you haven’t yet read my story from Thanksgiving on this blog last week STOP and read it first – it’s the first half of this story with the meet-cute, and you can find it here: THANKSGIVING  – Serendipity- Part 1

And for those who have, here’s – Christmas Holiday – Serendipity – Part 2

Serendipity – part 2

Joe

 

I pulled off three layers of silly-elf wrapping paper and opened the shirt box Adrien had given me. The crisp, striped button-down in it had no price tag, but the fancy detailing and cuffs that needed links screamed way more than I could afford. I extracted a dozen pins, and lifted it out. “I don’t own cufflinks.” That sounded surly even to my ears. I added, “Thanks, though.” Still pretty poor gratitude.

“I brought links.” Adrien held out a small box. “Not expensive ones, I swear. I know how you are.”

How am I? I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear him put a name to my attitude. Instead, I lifted the lid off the little cardboard box— cardboard does mean cheap, right? Except I didn’t put it beyond Adrien to move pricier stuff into a low-rent container— and poked at the cufflinks. Simple metal squares, enameled black on silver. Not real silver. I don’t think.

Adrien looked uncertain, expressions flitting across his expressive face. I remembered the first time I saw him in a cold parking lot. I thought, God, I hope that’s Scott. Blond hair and a very close cropped beard with a hint of red, taller than me with a lean wiry build that looked classy as hell in his tailored suit. Turned out he was something even better than the guy who’d hired me to fake-date him and then ditched me. He was the guy who said, “Come join us, just as Joe, doing a favor for a friend.” The first guy I’d given my phone number to since the whole mess with Foster.

The guy who’d still never seen the inside of my apartment, or even the front door. But I’d become more familiar with his townhouse than I could’ve imagined in the last three weeks. I glanced over my shoulder at the Christmas tree standing against his windows, colored lights glimmering. He’d asked me to go along to pick it out, and when we’d set the real pine up with his white lights strung on its bows, I’d remarked how it looked like a fairytale. Not real, like the old fake tree at home with all the tacky colored bulbs.

The next time I came over, this tree was strung with colored lights. They gleamed off shiny ornaments and the tinsel I’d also mentioned in passing. Adrien was like that. Way too good for me, and not even slightly because of his money.

“Will you wear the shirt?” he asked. “You know I don’t care what you’re wearing myself. In fact, I like nothing at all best.” He gave me a grinning leer. “But Uncle Stan and Aunt May will be at the party, and they’re snobs.”

“Nina and Louise aren’t.” I’d met Adrien’s cousins twice now, and both times they’d been real normal, down-to-earth women. The second time, when Adrien got us all together for a party at this youth shelter his family sponsored, they’d been more dressed–down than I was. Nina’s “Women Build – it’s not just the power tools” T shirt had some wear on the hem.

“I think they both backlashed the hell all over Aunt May’s pretentiousness,” Adrien said. “But I want her to meet you properly, not judge you by your clothes in the first ten seconds.”

I picked up the shirt again, shaking out the wrinkles. It‘d work as a job interview shirt, if I ever got a decent interview. “If she’s like that, why do you care what she thinks?”

“Because she’s Mom’s sister, and they spend a lot of time together. If she starts sniping at you, Mom will get upset, and I’d really like family Christmas not to disintegrate into class wars.”

“By pretending I’m upper class and fit in?”

Adrien’s face fell. “Fuck, I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?”

I couldn’t stand that look in his eyes. I touched his forearm. “No, you’re trying to keep everyone happy.”

“Doomed to failure, I guess.” He took the shirt from me. “You wear what feels comfortable.”

I took the shirt back. “I can wear this, if it’ll help keep the peace. Shall we see how well it fits?” With my free hand, I began flicking open the buttons on my white shirt, my previous best that I’d worn in reply to his ~You don’t need a jacket but go a bit dressy.

The look in his eyes morphed into heat. “Let me.”

One by one, he eased the small buttons out of their holes, spreading my shirt open. When he got to my waist, he tugged the shirttails free in an impatient gesture that sent a lot of my blood rushing south. Adrien pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my shoulder as he fiddled the lowest button open. His knuckles grazed my stomach and I shivered.

“How much time do we have?” I breathed.

In answer, he dropped to his knees and unbuckled my belt too. I’d sold the Thanksgiving dinner jacket back to the consignment store, but kept the slacks. They were dry-clean only though, so I nudged his head with the back of my hand. “How tidy can you be? I’ve got no money for the cleaners.”

“If I stain it, I clean it.” He grinned up at me, lips parted. “But I can swallow with the best of them.”

My dick strained at my zipper because yeah, I had firsthand evidence of that by now. “Go on, then.”

It’d never get old, looking down at Adrien’s blond head and perfect mouth as he shoved my pants and underwear down and sucked me deep. Jesus. I grabbed the sideboard behind me, shoved he has a fucking mahogany sideboard down deep in my brain, and gasped in response to that hot, wet suction. The edge of the furniture dug into the back of my thighs, the lights on the tree winked prettily, and Adrien dragged my brains out through my dick.

He didn’t mess around, just used his mouth and hands on my dick and balls, licking and sucking and tugging and squeezing until fire ran through my groin and my vision sparkled. His beard rasped my skin. His tongue probed, wicked in my slit. I managed a grunt of warning that only made him take me in me deeper. I slid my fingers into the blond mass of his hair and came, holding him like that, my spunk wet on his perfect lips.

My heart thundered. “Jesus.”

Adrien rocked back on his heels, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “Told you we had time.”

“I. You. Do you want…?” I waved an incoherent hand at him while leaning back heavily. I could get to like sideboards.

“We can fix me up after.” He stood, ignoring the way his gray dress pants tented in the front. “Stay put. I’m going to drink some water and get you a cloth for cleanup. Don’t move.”

I generally didn’t like taking orders, at least, not when I wasn’t being paid. But given the shaking of my knees, I was glad to have an excuse to rest a moment.

Adrien vanished into the half-bath— he has two bathrooms just for himself— and came back a moment later with a damp washcloth and a dry one. I didn’t resist as he pushed my briefs lower, wiped my skin with gentle strokes, patted me dry, and tucked me back inside.

I was so unused to being taken care of that I froze when he did this, every time. The first night, he’d told me I looked like a deer in the headlights, and should he stop. I choked out no because I didn’t hate being taken care of, at all. I hated how much I liked it. How, every time, his careful touches after the heat had faded seeped under my skin and seemed to mean something.

They didn’t, of course. I bet Adrien was like that with every man he touched, down to a trick in a bar or a hooker off the street. Or an escort. I hadn’t asked if he’d ever paid a man for sex. He hadn’t asked me if I’d ever sold it. Hadn’t asked whether, after our conversation at Thanksgiving, I’d decided to go through with the fucking side of escorting after all.

I hadn’t. Yet. I’d found a stupid retail job in a big box store, on the floor in the evening and restocking for two hours after that, four nights a week. It paid crap, I was terminally short of sleep, and my finances were teetering on a cliff. Saying yes to the agency and moving into the “exclusive” escort category, code for “will let you fuck them for the right price,” would solve a lot of my problems.

Providing I could go through with submitting to a stranger for money. Providing anyone even wanted to hire me. Providing I could survive who I’d have to become to do that.

Not yet. Not even if it meant I’d have more time for Adrien, instead of the snatched moments my schedule now allowed.

“Joe?”

I blinked away my thoughts to see Adrien holding up the new shirt, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, yeah. Let’s see how good your eye is.”

“I’ve had my hands all over you. I know your size.” He leered and patted over my briefs, although my dick was pretty average. Then he held the shirt open for me like some kind of freaking valet. I wonder if the clerks do this for customers in those fancy stores that sell shirts like this. I shoved that thought down too, and eased my arms into the sleeves. It wasn’t Adrien’s fault his family was loaded, or that I had a chip the size of a redwood tree on my shoulder.

Stepping away from him, I buttoned up, leaving the top one undone. He’d promised no tie tonight. Smoothing the striped linen or organic cotton or whatever it was over my hips, I pulled up my slacks and zipped, buttoned. The shirt lay crisp and yet soft against my skin.

“Perfect,” Adrien said. “I have good taste.”

“And you taste good.” I took a few steps to my left and turned to look at myself in the full-length hall mirror— he has a hall mirror— head to toe. The shirt fit just right and it suited me. The touch of paisley print at the collar made it fancy without a tie. The cuffs hung open, and nothing had erased the dark circles I was developing under my eyes, but I looked… good. When Adrien stepped up behind me, his hair recombed and his blue shirt crisp as ever, gold cufflinks catching the light of the tree, we looked like we fit.

That’s dangerous thinking.

Adrien moved closer and kissed me under the ear. “I’ll take that off you again later, but you look great. Cufflinks?”

“It’s be pretty stupid to wear this shirt with the sleeves hanging open.”

“I’ll get them.”

He took longer than I expected and when he returned he held the box along with a belt in the other hand. “Can I lend you this? Just for tonight?”

I guessed if I was going in rich-boy disguise, I might a well do the whole charade. “Sure. You gonna loan me new shoes too?” I’d paid an old shoeshine guy in the skyway ten bucks to polish mine within an inch of their lives. He’d done a decent job, but nothing could un-wear the leather.

“You’d drown in my shoes.” Adrien unbuckled my old belt and eased it through the loops, then threaded the new one, his arms wrapped around me as he did the back.

I inhaled the light seaside fragrance of whatever he was wearing, aftershave or cologne. That smell already had a direct line to my dick, which valiantly tried to respond. Nope, not yet.

Maybe some of what I was feeling showed on my face, because Adrien kissed me under the angle of my jaw before buckling the belt. “A pity hickeys are childish.”

“Says who?” My breath hitched.

Adrien brushed his mouth over mine, all too briefly. “We’ll explore that thought later.” He took a step back. “Give me your hands.”

“Why?”

“Cufflinks?” He held up the box.

“Oh. Right.” I watched as he threaded one and then the other through the holes in the sleeves. The cuffs lined up like pages in a book, not overlapping like regular sleeves. I knew that. Must be a bit annoying under a jacket. Adrien’s long fingers made quick work of threading and twisting and locking.

“There.” He fiddled with my collar, then moved off enough to look me up and down. “You look great.”

“I hope your uncle and aunt think so.”

“They’re not that picky, and anyway, who cares?”

I didn’t point out the lie in his buying me stuff and switching my belt for people who weren’t that picky, claiming he didn’t care. “Let’s go.” My parka had its own hanger in his front closet now. I pulled it out and stuffed my cufflinked arms in its worn sleeves. At least Nina and Louise and Dylan would be there, and they tolerated me. Would they, if they knew how Adrien and I met? Another thought I didn’t like looking at too closely. He’d never paid me for anything.

Scott had. The agency messaged me on Black Friday to say he’d transferred the full payment. No note. No tip. I’d been tempted to tell them to send it back, but I needed the bucks. Adrien said it was payment for an hour on my feet in the cold, and I decided to count it that way. That money had covered my December rent, letting me survive to find the retail thing. Which would only last till the new year and then I’d be hunting again…

“Ready?” Adrien had the door to his garage open.

“Yeah. Sure.”

I liked Adrien’s truck. In this working vehicle with dirt on the floor mats and marks on the seats, he felt like someone I might’ve met in a bar or at a ball game. For a while, as we cruised the dark Minneapolis streets, we were just two guys, shooting the shit. We talked about how we hadn’t minded watching the local Vikings football team get crushed by the Raiders, although neither of us had much skin in that game. I was a Cowboys fan pretty much from birth, and Adrien pissed off the rest of his family by cheering for the Green Bay Packers. So we could talk shit about the local team at will.

I’d only seen game highlights, of course. My schedule didn’t have gaps for ball games right now. On top of work, I had a week of exams coming up, and really should be home studying my eyeballs out. But Adrien was an addiction I couldn’t quit, and surely I deserved a break now and then.

Another snooty party with all of his family wouldn’t have been my first choice of how to spend that break. It was Adrien’s choice, though, so here I was.

He turned down a street divided by a green parkway. The houses on either side got bigger and fancier. The holiday decorations left behind the inflatable snowmen and perky Rudolphs, and moved to entire oak trees wrapped in white lights. Someone had a ton of time and a cherry-picker lift, to do that. Probably got paid for it. I stretched out my legs and leaned back on the headrest.

Adrien set a hand on my knee. His touch was warm through my slacks. He was always so warm. “Another block. I’m going to look for a place to park. Mom said ‘quiet family party’ but she always ends up inviting someone else.”

And you couldn’t warn me about that? Wouldn’t have mattered, of course. If Adrien wanted to go, I’d still have said yes.

We pulled in behind a BMW. “Dylan’s,” Adrien said, nodding to a “Politicians make crappy doctors” bumper sticker.

“Nice car for a student,” I pointed out. Of course, Dylan was in his clinical year of med school. He’d be making a mint soon enough.

“Mom bought it for him. She didn’t want him driving something unreliable, with the shifts he works.”

A pang hit me, so hard I clutched the door handle. Mom bought me a used bicycle when I was eleven. It still smelled of the metal polish she’d used, cleaning as much of the rust as she could. I know she went without to pay for it. I was a little shit. I said thanks but I’m sure she heard the disappointment, that it wasn’t a new one. Sorry, Mom.

Useless, and years too late. I shoved the door open and got out.

Adrien ran a quick glance over my face, but didn’t ask questions. He’d gotten good at that, not asking. I felt both pleased and ashamed, that he already knew I wouldn’t answer.

“Two doors down this way.” Adrien held out his gloved hand.

I stared at it before realizing what he intended. Here? Out on the street? I looked around at the snowy lawns and the sparkling lights that glimmered off polished cars, the quiet sidewalks marked by just a few boots passing. No doubt hate could live here as easy as in a rough neighborhood, but maybe it was less likely to come at your head with a fist. And Adrien wanted this. Why the hell not? I took his fingers in my fuzzy-mittened hand and squeezed.

The smile that lit Adrien’s face was worth a hell of a lot to me. “Come on.” He tugged me forward down the block.

His family home stood back from the road, the lawn smooth and white. A pair of large oaks, brown leaves clinging and snow-laden now, well into December, flanked the short driveway to a freestanding garage. The towering walls of what had to be four stories hulked behind them in gray stone, with decorative courses of white brick around the windows.

“Well, fuck, Downton Abby,” I muttered.

Adrien laughed. “The Downton in-laws’ cottage, maybe. I know, it’s huge and ridiculous, but it’s not a castle.”

He tugged me up the walkway which had been shoveled clear of the recent inch of snowfall. At the big front door, he didn’t hesitate, just thumbed the latch on the brass handle and pushed it open.

“Wait.” I pulled back. “Shouldn’t we ring the bell?”

“Did you ring the bell on your mother’s house?”

“My mother never had a fucking house,” I snapped. And would never have left a door unlocked.

Our eyes met and he looked down. “Sorry.”

I squeezed his fingers but didn’t get words out.

“This is my family’s house. I lived here for eighteen years, and summers for four more. Mom and Dad won’t mind if I walk in.”

Of course not. You’re you. I gathered my nerve, nodded, and let him lead me inside, closing the heavy oak panel to shut out the cold.

The space we stood in was an entry, although you could fit my first studio apartment inside it. A long row of trays held a few pairs of boots, not many for the babble I could distantly hear. Probably most folks drove, and tiptoed to the door or something. Adrien opened a wooden bench and reached into the bottom, pulling out a microfiber shammy. “Give me your coat and wipe your shoes.”

I shrugged out of my parka, stuffed my mittens in the pocket, and handed the jacket over to be hung in a big wardrobe closet filled with furs and heavy greatcoats, probably London Fog stuff. Or whatever was fancier that I didn’t even know about. Sitting on the second bench, I focused on cleaning every drop of snow off my shoes.

Beyond the edges of the practical rugs leading to the door, the floor even in this glorified mud-room gleamed in amber wood. I gave my soles another wipe, not realizing my hands were shaking till Adrien took the cloth from me. He squatted in front of me, his thighs straining the fabric of his gray slacks. “Still okay?”

“Yeah.” I pushed to my feet, tugging my French cuffs down my wrists.

Adrien stood too. “We don’t have to stay.”

“I want to. Your mother’s expecting us.”

He eyed me and I tried to meet his gaze openly. After a moment, he nodded. “All right.” He held out his hand again and I took it, his cool palm meeting my damp one.

I followed him through the second door and turned right into the… living room? Great room, maybe? Big enough to hold a nine-foot Christmas tree in a bay window and still have tons of room for the guests standing around talking.

Conversation hushed momentarily as Adrien and I paused in the open archway. Heads turned our way. I was probably crushing his fingers.

Adrien’s mother hurried toward us from a group by the fireplace, her hands held out. “Joe. Adrien brought you after all. I’m so glad. Come on in.”

I held out my free hand to her but didn’t drop my death-grip on Adrien.

She squeezed my hand in both of hers. “Welcome. Make yourself at home. You know most of us but come meet my sister and her husband, Adrien’s aunt and uncle.”

“Take a breath, Mom,” Adrien said. “We’re going to get drinks and something to eat.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “Get it over with.”

His mother gave a light laugh. “Oh dear, Adrien, did you make my party sound like some kind of ordeal?”

Adrien just shrugged. He let go of my fingers and set his hand on my back in the way that always calmed me, though I don’t think I’d ever told him so. “Right, lead on, Mom.”

She blinked at him, then tucked her hand into the crook of my elbow. “Over here. Oh, we have a few others you may not know with us tonight. That’s Maverick, Louise’s date.” She nodded in the direction of a bearded young guy with narrow shoulders. Beside him, Louise looked up and wiggled her fingers at me but stayed put.

Adrien says he’s not likely to stick around much longer than Shawn. He says Louise has crappy taste in guys. I realized, in the last three weeks I’d learned a lot of bits and pieces about the people in this room. I wasn’t a total stranger at complete disadvantage. That gave my backbone a bit of stiffening as we approached Adrien’s dad and an older couple I hadn’t met.

“May, Stan,” Adrien’s mother said. “This is Joe… Oh dear, honey, I’ve forgotten your last name.”

She hadn’t forgotten, she didn’t know it. My last name was behind the wall I hadn’t let even Adrien cross yet, along with a lot of my life. But whether she was fishing for information, or just stuck in her ways, I wasn’t going to show her up in front of her sister. “Rockford, ma’am.”

She let go of my elbow to pat my arm. “Now, Joe, I told you to call me Deb. These are Adrien’s Aunt May and Uncle Stanley. May, Joe is Adrien’s boyfriend.”

The other woman looked me up and down. “Rockford, hm? What does your family do?”

“My parents have passed on,” I told her. Another tidbit, but one I was pretty sure Adrien had guessed. The uninterrupted rub of his hand in tiny circles on my back without the slightest hitch suggested I was right.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you have other family.”

“Not much, ma’am.” And what there was, I hoped would stay in Texas and keep the hell away from me.

“That’s sad.” Her eyes didn’t lose their calculating look. I fiddled with my cufflinks and hoped she wouldn’t look as low as my shoes. Good thing Adrien had loaned me the belt. I wanted to not give a fuck what she thought of me— I’d had a lot of years perfecting not caring— but she was Adrien’s family, and against my will, she mattered.

Adrien’s mother said, “Well, he has family now. Every one of us in this room.” She turned to her husband. “Right, Nathaniel?”

“Absolutely.” Adrien’s dad smiled at me. “I’ve never seen Adrien half as animated as the last few weeks. I chalk that up to your influence.”

“Or to the crazy freeze-thaw cycles we’ve had,” Adrien suggested in a pretty transparent attempt to turn the conversation. “Playing havoc with project scheduling. Keeps me on my toes.”

His aunt turned her gaze on him. “Are you still playing at grubbing around in the dirt, Adrien? When are you going to start taking your responsibility to your family’s company seriously?”

“The fifth of never?” Adrien raised one blond eyebrow and kept his hand on me.

“Adrien’s a project manager for a big firm,” his father pointed out. “It’s not like he’s digging post holes. He’ll learn a lot from this position.”

“And it’s not like there’s anything wrong with digging post holes.” The words escaped my mouth unbidden. I’d done that, one whole long summer, and it was hard, backbreaking, important work.

Aunt May blinked hard and stared at me. “What is it you do, Joseph?”

“Just Joe,” I said, trying to head her off.

She tilted her head, undeterred.

I could say I was a student. That was the truth, if not the whole truth, and would go over just fine, I’d bet. The intersection of Adrien’s world and mine could meet in a university classroom. I wasn’t sure what bit of stubbornness locked my lips.

The temptation to say, “I’m an escort,” warred with my silence. That was less true than it ever had been. I’d done just one job in the last three weeks, live nude modeling for an art class. The teacher had apparently used the agency before, and said I had an “interesting look” when she picked me. Well, that and my willingness to take a discounted fee to sit around with my clothes off. The two hours had fitted into a review session I could skip. Food money for the week.

I still hadn’t signed up for the agency’s exclusive tier. Didn’t want to, with Adrien in my life. January rent was coming due soon, though, and the retail that barely kept my head above water would end in two weeks. Adrien would rather give me the money than have me fuck for it. I wasn’t sure I could take money from him.

Maybe we’re doomed anyway.

Adrien looped his arm around my shoulders. “So nice to see you, Aunt May, Uncle Stan. We’ll have to get caught up soon.” He steered me aside, then across the room to end up in an alcove where Dylan sat with his eyes glued to his phone.

“Hey, Joe.” Dylan looked up as Adrien pushed me down on the other end of the window seat. “Good to see you. And Ad. What’re you doing in my space, bro?”

“Escaping Aunt May and the interrogation of doom.” Adrien stood right in front of me as if to keep me from going anywhere. “Why are you hiding in here?”

“Clinical case presentation tomorrow.” Dylan held up his phone. “I’m reviewing recent literature. And avoiding Aunt May.”

Adrien held his hand out to Dylan who high-fived him without standing.

Adrien turned to me. “Not sure how Mom and Aunt May managed to be sisters. Might be because May’s older and spent more time with Grandma’s parents before they passed. Grandma says they almost forbade her to marry Gramps because he was new money, except it was medical-related and that made it somewhat respectable.

“Rich folks are nuts,” I said without thinking. Then I was going to add, Present company excepted, but the jury was still out on that.

“Some of us are,” Dylan agreed. I liked that he didn’t weasel out of being the kind of guy whose mother buys him a BMW. “Some of us want to be more. Now go bug Nina and Louise. I need to see if there’s any new therapy for hyperparathyroidism that my profs could trip me up on.” He dropped his gaze back to the phone.

I stood up. Adrien said, “Drinks first, then cousins.” He led the way to where a sideboard— what is with rich folk and sideboards?— held glasses, several bottles of wine, champagne, and a crystal decanter of something amber that wasn’t labeled. I guess if you had to ask, you shouldn’t drink it. “There’s probably beer in the kitchen, too,” he offered.

“Champagne,” I said. “If I’m here I might as well get the benefit.”

“My thoughts exactly.” He poured two tall, narrow glassfuls and handed one to me. “Happy holidays.” Adrien clinked his rim on mine, then took a sip. “Mm, I think you’ll like this.”

Champagne normally didn’t do much for me. Thin stuff, the rare times I’d had any, good for causing hiccups and not making me drunk. This was different, like sparkly sunshine in a glass. Although when I took a long swallow, I still had to muffle a hiccup.

Adrien grinned. “Bless you.”

“Isn’t that just for sneezes?”

“Who cares? Let’s grab some food too.”

A table in another window bay was set with those heating dish things and trays of finger food and real china plates. I tried to pick just a few bites, but Adrien set down his glass and loaded up my plate along with his.

“Trust Adrien to find the food.” His grandmother’s dry tones behind me made me jump and step aside, but Adrien just grinned.

“Was it supposed to be hidden? Because a table with chafing dishes isn’t particularly stealthy.” He leaned over to deliver a kiss on her cheek.

“No, dear, but you do seem to be making a meal of it.”

“And what a meal.” Adrien added more little meatballs to both plates. “These are awesome, Joe. I could live off them.” He set a fork on each plate and passed one to me. “Now we need a place to hang out and chow down.”

“Come sit by me.” His grandmother’s tone made that a command. She glided off across the room like a ship in sail without looking back, supremely sure she’d be obeyed.

Adrien looked at me and raised an eyebrow, whispering, “She’s not actually the boss of us.”

“Right. Say that louder.”

His lips quirked but he picked up his glass and followed his grandmother. I trailed along behind.

The queen of his family had seated herself in a tall-backed chair with curving arms. A full glass of red wine sat on a little table beside the chair and once seated, she took a long slow swallow. “Mm. A good year.” Waving at another armchair and a padded footstool-looking thing, she added, “Have a seat, boys.”

Escaping Adrien’s Aunt May to be pinned down by his grandma seemed a bit like out of the frying pan, into the fire, but I grabbed the stool which put me at Adrien’s knees. He frowned, but sat in the chair and balanced his plate on his lap. “Dig in, Joe.” He forked up a meatball and stuffed it in his mouth.

A full mouth seemed like a protective idea so I did the same. The tender seasoned meat— not beef, but some other critter, I thought— melted on my tongue. I suddenly wished Adrien had been even more greedy.

We ate as if we were ravenous, shoving food into our mouths as constantly as two silver forks could go. Adrien’s grandmother sipped from her wineglass and watched us, saying nothing. Eventually, we were down to chasing bits of sauce around the plate. She set her glass aside. “Better? Are you going back for seconds, Adrien?”

He flushed across the cheekbones. “Not right now.”

“Then tell me what’s going on in your life. I haven’t seen you for weeks.”

“I’ve been busy. It’s end of season, a lot of projects to wrap up, a lot of decisions about which workers to keep on contract through the winter and who to let go. Not much free time.” He spoiled the nonchalant explanation by glancing down at me, then quickly away.

“And you wanted to spend what there was, with Joe.” I strained to hear the emotion beneath the words but couldn’t tell what she felt.

“Of course.” Adrien swept his finger through a dab of sauce on his plate and sucked it.

His grandmother wrinkled her nose. “Haven’t you heard of napkins, boy?”

“Sure, but I ran out of hands.”

She turned back to me. “I’m told by May that my grandson is dating a ditch digger.”

I licked my dry lips. “I said post holes. Although there’s nothing wrong with digging ditches either.”

“Perhaps not. Where are those holes of yours? The ground’s been frozen for two weeks now.”

“I worked on a ranch one summer in high school. Mended lots of fences.” I raised my chin.

“And what do you do now?”

Adrien jumped in. “Grandma, when he wants us to know, he’ll tell us.”

She eyed him. “Pretty basic information, don’t you think?”

“Not half as important as being kind or smart or good in bed.”

“Don’t be coarse, dear.”

“You asked.”

“That was hardly my question.”

I could stop this, smooth down the sparks flying between them, so easily. A few words. How stupid was I, to cling to the habit of secrecy this way? I opened my mouth, but Adrien bounced to his feet.

His grandmother ignored him and turned to me. “Seems like you boys have some talking to do.”

Adrien shook his head. “It’s fine. We have all the time in the world.”

But the old lady was right. I stood and looked at Adrien. “Where do the dirty plates go?”

“Just leave it there.” He pointed at a small table. “The caterers will be back to clean up.”

“Of course they will.” I nodded to his grandmother. “Thanks for inviting me to your home.”

“It’s my son’s home. And pretty manners are no substitute for honesty.” She reached out and snagged my slacks at the knee, keeping me there in front of her. “Joe, I’ve liked what I’ve seen of you. Don’t make me change my mind.”

I couldn’t promise that. After a moment she let go and gestured. “Go on, then. You need to spend time with Adrien, not me.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Adrien murmured as he guided me away from that end of the room. “Look, Nina’s over there—“

“Let’s go home,” I interrupted.

“Right. Sorry. I hoped you’d have an okay time—“

“Shush. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Your grandma’s right. We need to talk.”

Adrien laughed painfully. “Like that’s not the kiss of death, right?”

“It isn’t.” This time I put my hand on his shoulder. “I just… built a lot of walls the last few years and it’s time I pulled some down. But not here.”

He looked me over. I don’t know what he saw in my face, but he nodded. “I’ll go say goodbye to people. You dig out our coats.”

I’m surprised your grandmother doesn’t have a butler. I might’ve said it as a joke yesterday, but today I didn’t, not with things tense between us. Anyway, she’d said it was his parents’ house and, reflected in his stories, they seemed like good people. I left the room, heading for the entry.

Light footsteps behind me made me turn. Nina came hurrying after me. “Is something wrong? Are you leaving?”

“Not wrong. Just…” I shrugged, not wanting to say Adrien and I need to be alone and make it sound like more than it was.

“This family can be a lot, I guess. Did you at least get some food? Aunt Deb knows the best caterers.”

“Yeah. It was awesome.”

She came closer, set a hand on my arm. “Adrien needs to bring you home to brunch on Christmas Day. Just you and him and Dylan and his folks. Well, and Grandma.” She pursed her lips.

“I like your grandmother.” It was true. I’d never had a grandparent in my life, and for all her nosiness, his grandma seemed like she cared about him.

“Good.” She stood on tiptoe suddenly and kissed my cheek. “Merry Christmas, Joe.” Dropping to flat feet, she ran a thumb below my eye. “You look tired. Get some rest.” A grin crossed her lips. “Tell Adrien he needs to keep you in bed for a week.”

“Stealing my boyfriend?” Adrien came toward us.

“I will if you don’t treat him right.” She tilted her head. “I don’t suppose you’re bi or pan, are you Joe?”

“No, sorry.” Although lately, for the first time in my life, I really wasn’t sorry.

Nina grinned. “Merry Christmas, Ad.” Her heels tapped lightly as she crossed the polished floor back to the great room.

Adrien closed the hall door and looked at me. “Couldn’t find those coats in this giant maze?” He gestured around the entry that didn’t seem quite as cavernous after the rest of the house.

“Got interrupted by your cousin.”

“Did she say something?”

“Nothing bad.” I pulled open the closet and tossed him his parka. “There you go.” Pulling on my own and zipping up gave me a moment to think but my mind wanted to run in blank circles.

“That didn’t go too badly,” Adrien said, once we were out in the fresh air and headed down the walkway.

“Your aunt thinks I dig ditches.”

“Most of us have stopped caring what Aunt May thinks.”

I didn’t remind him that he’d bought me an expensive shirt to make her think better of me.

We swung up into the truck and were halfway to his place when I made up my mind. “Grab the parkway.”

“I thought you said home.” Adrien turned obediently. “But sure, I’ll drop you off, if that’s what you want.”

“Not drop me off, come in with me.”

“To your place?” I saw him squash down a smile. “Okay. Yeah, of course.”

“It’s a shitty place,” I warned him. “I don’t bring anyone there.”

I waited for him to say some stupid shit like I’m honored but he just said, “Thanks.” There was nothing I could reply to that.

I had him park two blocks off, because his truck was less likely to get creamed by someone coming home drunk, and I walked at least a foot from his side those two blocks, because this wasn’t a neighborhood where we could hold hands without those fists being a risk. The front door lock stuck, like always, but eventually yielded to my key. I led the way inside.

Zane sat on the couch, empty beer cans lined up in front of him. He waved. “Hey, Joe. C’mon, watch the game with me.”

“Not tonight.”

“Not any night,” he slurred. “‘Bout as friendly as a sea slug.”

I ignored him, same as always, and led Adrien up the stairs to the third floor. I’d graphite-sprayed the lock on my room and it clicked open easily. Switching on the light, I urged him inside and flipped the deadbolt and the safety latch behind us. “Home sweet home.”

“You keep it tidy.” Adrien looked around.

“Only way to survive in a small space.” Although some of the other guys sharing the old house didn’t agree.

“It’s not horrible.” He went and sat on the edge of the bed, rather than the one metal folding chair I owned. Smart move. That chair would dump you if you didn’t know the right trick of easing onto it.

I sat on the mattress beside him, staring at the dingy wall four feet from our faces. “I’ve lived in worse.”

“And hopefully better.”

“Some, yeah.” Talking was easier if I didn’t look at him, so I didn’t. “I don’t know why I didn’t just tell your aunt what I do.”

“Well the word escort might’ve made her choke on her champagne.”

“You know that’s not all I do, right?”

“I figured. You said you had to fit it around your schedule.”

“I’m a student. U of M. Final year. She would’ve liked that just fine, I bet?”

“Probably. Or at least, not looked down on it.” Adrien’s words came slowly, carefully. “Is there a reason that’s a secret?”

“Not a good one. Habit. Years of habit.” I coughed a little. “My mom used to say my spirit animal was a snail.”

“A snail?”

“Yeah. Poke at me and I pull back inside my hard shell.”

“Have I been poking?”

“No. You’ve been great.” I still couldn’t look at his face, but I took his hand in mine, tracing the veins on the back with a fingertip. “I… I want to tell you more about me but I don’t want you to feel sorry or look down or, like, pity me.”

He squeezed my fingers in a firm grip. “I have a feeling you’re one of the strongest guys I know. Go for it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t even tell you my last name.” Keeping Adrien out of my real life had seemed vital, at first. Now it felt like he was my real life.

“I don’t need your name unless you vanish and I’m searching hospitals. Try not to do that.” I’d have thought that was a joke except there was a little tremor in his voice. I wondered if he also had nightmares where the person he was coming to… care about disappeared without notice, and he went searching for them through streets warped out of recognition where no one had heard of them.

“I’m not planning to go anywhere.” If I don’t get evicted. But that was a problem for another day. I pushed back on the bed, sliding until I could lean on the wall, my legs out in front of me. Adrien did the same, scooting closer so our shoulders touched.

“My mom died when I was sixteen.”

Adrien made a soft sound and leaned harder.

“She was out of town on a job. She’d finally landed a decent position taking care of the old couple who liked to travel. They paid her room and board and travel costs, and enough salary she could send money home for me to pay the rent and buy food and stuff. I worked too, of course, but we were finally above water, with a little money in the bank. Then they all three got the flu, and even though they were old and she wasn’t, she was the one who died.”

“You were sixteen? What did you do?”

“Not much different. She’d been gone eight months by then. Back in town only once in that time. And even before that, she’d taken all kinds of jobs and wasn’t home much. I’d been forging her signature on permission slips and checks for years anyway. I didn’t tell anyone, stayed in school, kept paying the rent.”

“Wait, no one knew she was dead?”

I shook my head. “The old couple paid for her to be cremated in Louisiana, where they were traveling when they got sick. I only found out when the next check didn’t arrive and I called them, pretending to be her brother. She didn’t tell them about me, didn’t want them to refuse to hire her because she’d left a kid at home. I asked them to send her death certificate to her home address and… put it in a drawer. Did nothing.” Even when it came in the mail, her name there in print, in black and white, it didn’t feel real. Nothing had changed. I went to school, got good grades, played ball like the lifeline it was, stocked shelves, came home, lied to teachers and coaches about where she was. Same as always. Except the next Saturday phone call never came, and her last text— “Down with a bit of a cold. Don’t worry if you don’t hear from me for a couple of days.”— sat on my phone unchanging.

“You didn’t tell anyone? Wasn’t that hard?”

My voice came out steady, like it wasn’t a part of me. “I was doing good in school, fifth in my class. Everything was working fine. And I had friends who’d ended up in the foster system. They had stories. Best I could hope for there was worse than what I already had. Teachers didn’t expect her at conferences, no one was looking for her. I filed her taxes.” Sweating through the process, expecting her social security number to raise red flags. Somehow, it didn’t. “Applied for school loans, worked in a grocery store, ranching in the summers.” It’d had the side bonus of keeping me really fit. “Killed myself on the ball field the next two years.”

“Wait, football?” I felt Adrien turn to look at me.

“Baseball,” I said down to my hands, locked together on my knees. Christ, I miss it. I could almost smell the bruised grass and the glove leather. Stop. Don’t go there. “I scored an athletic scholarship. A couple of academic ones too but small, like a thousand dollars, from Texas schools.” Money that would’ve blown me away to find on the street, but which meant nothing against the cost of college. “But Minnesota wanted to cover my full tuition to come play ball in this frozen wasteland.”

“Hey, this is my home state you’re accurately describing.”

“I did three months as a laborer in the oil fields, saved as much as I could that summer, then came up here. Moved into a cheap apartment, although better than this one, started with the team, went to classes.”

“What’re you studying?”

“Architecture. Useless degree.”

“Hey, I’m a builder. Architecture’s far from useless.”

“Oversupplied, I should say.” I’d known that, going in. I’d been determined to be the one who made it. “Anyway, there I was, sitting pretty. And beginning of junior year, I met a guy.”

“Why do I get the feeling I’m going to want to kill him.”

I turned at last. “Because you’re a smart man,” I said, and watched a smile flit briefly across his face, before he went serious.

“What did he do?”

“Foster was everything I’d wanted for so long. Small town Texas is a bad place to be gay. The ranches and the oil fields are worse. I’d never been out and suddenly I was in Minnesota at a university with rainbow flags, and gay club nights. But on an athletic team, where queer wasn’t a safe option. They paid lip service, but no. I was… hungry.” Not just for anonymous sex, which I’d tried plenty of by junior year, always wary and keeping my distance. Skin hungry, touch hungry, after years since anyone had hugged me and meant more than “good game” from a teammate. “Foster seemed cool, classy, smart, decent-looking, fascinated with me. He said he’d been well off once but his folks lost their money, so he didn’t look down on someone poor. A dream come true.”

“I wish he had been.”

I nudged his knee with mine. “This is better. Even his illusion had holes, if I’d been smart enough to notice. But I think he’d misjudged. He had some odd idea I was going to be a big league player, make millions of bucks. And there he’d be, my secret vice, raking in my money.”

“Were you that good?”

“Not in a million years. Or else I’d have been playing for a top school with a full room-and-board ride. But the night we met, I’d hit a double and a homer, driven in the winning run. My teammates bought me beers and maybe I talked big. Foster came home with me that night and never left.”

“Were you together long?”

“Too long. Almost a year. I’m not sure why. He should’ve realized by then he was backing the wrong baseball horse.”

“Maybe he liked you.”

I scoffed. “Liked me so much that when I broke my leg—” I closed my eyes against a flash of memory— hitting the sidewalk, seeing my leg at an impossible angle as the taillights vanished in the dark and thinking, Shit, my scholarship, before the pain hit. No, not that memory either. “After my knee surgery, I came home from the hospital on crutches to find he’d hacked into my bank account, stolen every dime I had left, and run off with my laptop.”

“Oh. The scars.” Adrien rubbed my knee where he’d seen the lines of surgical repair and never asked me why. “That son of a bitch. I hope you reported him to the cops.”

“I tried. Turns out there was no Foster Kendrick enrolled at the U. In fact, there was no Foster Kendrick with a real Minnesota driver’s license.”

“He what?”

I laughed helplessly. “Yeah, a year we were together, bitching about professors and classes and exams, and it was all a lie. I don’t know what he was doing when I was in classes, but it wasn’t getting his own degree. Selling drugs, maybe, although if so, he could’ve lived a lot better than we did. Conning some other sugar daddy, perhaps. Someone he ran off to. I still wonder if I’ll see him someday, arm in arm with some rich silver fox.”

“That sucks. And then there I was Thanksgiving night, looking like another Foster?”

“Hell, no.” I didn’t want him to think I’d ever lumped him in with that user. “But I let him into my life, most of my secrets, and he stole—” Not just my money but my confidence, my trust, my hope that I could be open and share and not get bashed around the heart, the way coming out as a teen would’ve led to getting bashed around the head, the way spilling Mom’s secrets would’ve wrecked my life. All my life, silence was safest, and he’d slammed that knowledge deep into my heart again. “Keeping everything secret was easier. That snail shell was safe and I crawled back inside.”

“I don’t want you to feel unsafe.” Adrien was rubbing my thigh hard and fast, like he wanted to start a fire.

I lifted his hand off my leg and wove our fingers together. “I don’t. From that first night, you made me feel good. I just need you to be patient. Give me time.”

“All the time you need.”

“See, I believe that. Three weeks so far, and you’ve never complained about dropping me off on a corner or not knowing my last name.”

“Don’t give me too much credit. I really wanted more.”

“But you waited.” I leaned toward him and found his mouth. After a long, deep kiss, I pulled back enough to say, “It’s not what you think, or what you say, that matters in life, it’s what you do.”

“Thanks, Yoda.”

I shoved him hard enough to send him laughing over the foot of the bed to the floor.

He popped back up on his knees, looking at me. “I also wanted to take that fancy shirt off you the moment I saw you in it.”

“Not here,” I told him. “The walls are like paper. But if you give me ten minutes to pack a bag, maybe we can go back to your place and…”

“Spend the night? I’d love that.”

“You’re sure?” I suddenly wondered if this was me being pushy.

Adrien slid back onto the bed beside me, running a finger from my borrowed belt up my new shirt to stroke my throat. I heard a tiny rasp of stubble my dispo razor hadn’t tamed. “I’ve asked you to spend the night before. I’m not just sure, I’m thrilled that this time you said yes.” He slid the tip of his finger to my lips and I sucked it. Adrien drew an audible breath. “I’ve dated other guys. None of them hurt me like Foster did you, but a couple of them sure took my confidence down. The last guy, when we broke up, said he wouldn’t have given me the time of day if I didn’t have bank. He said it was a shame I was too stupid and boring to spend any of it.”

“He’s an idiot.” I turned to rub my cheek against Adrien’s fingers. “If you punch Foster, can I punch him?”

“He’d just sue you.” Adrien hesitated, then his eyes glittered. “You know what would piss him off? If you let me spend a bunch of money on you instead.”

I laughed, feeling my heart floating light in my chest, and elbowed his ribs. “I saw what you did there.”

He shrugged. “Worth a try.” Slipping an arm around my shoulders, he pulled me in against him, leaning on the wall. “Tell me what you need. What you want. Christmas brunch with my family, or naked bacon in bed. Gifts, no gifts, well, other than the shirt. If you want me to butt out of your escort business—”

“No,” I interrupted. “I’m done with that. I suck at it, and the real money’s in stuff I don’t want to do. And I don’t like it coming between us.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Adrien insisted. “I can separate out what you do for money and what you do for yourself.”

“What I want to do for myself is have time with you. Yeah, I’ll have to scrounge like crazy for rent money the next few months, but I’m waiting to see if I got into grad school. That has a stipend and free tuition.”

“Grad school… here in Minnesota?”

I bit my lip. “I applied a bunch of places. I did apply here at the U too. I don’t want to move again and be alone in another new city.” And lose you. Adrien hadn’t been a blip on the horizon when I’d put in those applications. Now, he mattered, way too much. “I’m hoping the U comes through.”

“I’ll cross all my fingers.” He hugged me closer. “But if your only option is somewhere else, we’ll figure it out, okay? No more of this alone shit.”

I didn’t know if I wanted to blow him for that, or just squish my face against his neck and breathe him in. Only one of those was a good idea here in this room, so I turned against his skin and inhaled his unique scent, closing my eyes. I’d never really had a home, not one I knew I could keep. This, held close against Adrien’s side, felt like home.

Tonight was way too soon, and I wasn’t going to let myself be vulnerable at anything less than a glacial pace, but I murmured, “Christmas Eve bacon in bed. Morning with your family?” The way his body softened against me told me I’d chosen right. Silently, not even a murmur, I shaped more words with my lips against his skin. I could learn to love you. Maybe one day, I’d even say that out loud.

Adrien hugged me hard, then pushed me away. “The things I want to do with you, and tell you, do not fit with thin walls and this freaking single bed. Get packed, Joe Rockford. Bring whatever you need to study and sleep and…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “…fuck me into the mattress.” His grin widened, bright as the sun filling that dingy little room. “Come on, move your fine ass, and let’s go home.”

 

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