Page 110 of Elite Connections: an LGBTQ Romance Charity Anthology

I arrive homethe next day to find a house twinkling with Christmas lights.

My mother has always been completely over the top about Christmas. Our whole house is lit up like a fairy grotto, along with mechanical Santa Clauses and reindeer and fake snow machines on our front lawn.

But I find it difficult to ooh and aah over her decorations.

Instead, I spend the majority of my time staring out the window at the undecorated house next door.

“What on earth is distracting you so much?” Mom asks me after I’ve just looked out the window for the twentieth time.

“I’m just trying to see if Liam is home for Christmas this year,” I reply honestly.

Mom’s brow furrows. “Liam? You two aren’t still tormenting each other, are you? I thought you’d grown out of that.”

We are actually still tormenting each other, but in a different way now.

I’m tormented by thoughts of Liam. About the way we traded insults and laughed together. The way we talked about everything and confided in each other.

The way Liam gets me more than anyone ever has.

How is that even possible?

I retreat from the window and head to my room. I hunch over my high school study desk and try to do some work, but I can’t escape the past. How many hours did I spend sitting here plotting ways to get revenge on Liam Jamieson when I was growing up? Back when all I wanted to do was to make his life miserable.

And now I’m sitting here simply wanting him.

It’s like my thoughts summon him because a car pulls up outside Liam’s house and my breath catches in my throat.

Liam gets out of the car, and my stomach lurches.

He’s so familiar to me. The shape of his body, the way he walks, the set of his shoulders. He’s too far away from me, so I can’t see his expression. But I do see him turn his head toward my house, then glance away.

Oh, holy hell.

Somehow, seeing Liam here in Bainfield, entering the house where he grew up, reinforces all the history between us. All those pranks we played, the way we spent years battling each other.

It makes what happened between us in Hawaii seem even more unbelievable.

He disappears inside his house.

I slump back in my chair.

Liam’s here. So close, but yet so far.

And I want to see him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

What the hell should I do?

In desperation, I video-call my friend Andrew.

Andrew and I first met at a CEO tech conference a few years ago. Being both under twenty-five and gay established the initial bond between us, and our friendship grew from there. He’s proven to be an invaluable sounding board for issues in my business and personal life.

He answers my call with a smile.

“Hey, my brother by another mother.”

Despite myself, I snicker because Andrew is the last person you’d expect to engage in slang idioms. “Have you ever actually been able to pull off saying that?” I ask.

Andrew laughs. “That was my first attempt. I’m taking it was a fail?”

“A truly epic one.”

He shrugs. “You can’t win them all.”

I settle back in my chair. “How’s retirement? Decided what to do with the rest of your life yet?”

Andrew recently sold his company for a ridiculous amount of money and has based himself in London for a couple of months to do some traveling while trying to decide what to do next.

“I’m still working on a plan,” he says easily. “How’s everything going with you? How was your retreat?”

“The retreat was fine,” I say. “But it caused a dilemma I’m struggling with, and I wanted to talk it through with someone.”

“Fire away,” he says.

I’m about to talk through the whole thing, but instead, I blurt out, “Do you think you can fall in love with your enemy?”

Andrew blinks at me. Whatever he expected to come out of my mouth, it clearly wasn’t that. “What?”

“My date from Elite ended up being my childhood enemy.”

Andrew’s mouth drops open. “Are you kidding me?”

I run my hand through my hair. “I know. It’s messed up, right?”

“Yes, but the truly messed-up part is the implications behind the question you just asked. Do you actually think you fell in love with this guy in six days on a tropical island?”

“Yes,” I say miserably.

Andrew continues to blink at me. “Well, personally, I can’t ever imagine falling in love with the jock who tortured me in high school,” he says finally.

“Yeah, it wasn’t quite as simple as the jock bullying the nerd when we were growing up. I tormented him back. We tormented each other.”

“That doesn’t sound like a healthy base for a relationship,” Andrew says quietly.

“I know. But it was different on the island. We’ve grown up. And I don’t know, maybe it’s partly because of all that history between us, but he seems to get me like no one else has.”

Andrew’s eyebrows fly up. I’m not sure if it’s due to my words or the wistfulness in my tone as I talk about Liam.

“And I get him too,” I keep going. “He projects this cocky persona to the world, and he comes across smooth and charming, but deep down, he’s incredibly sweet.”

A crease deepens on Andrew’s forehead to the point it’s almost a crevasse. “So he lives in San Francisco, he’s single, you’re single. What’s actually stopping you guys from being together?”

Andrew’s words hit me hard in the chest.

I swallow hard.

“I guess I’m scared of putting myself out there,” I say finally. “What if he rejects me?”

“Are you worried that he’ll reject you and it’ll bring back all the negative memories from when you were growing up?” he asks.

His question causes my breath to hitch. What am I truly the most concerned about when it comes to Liam?

Yes, being rejected by Liam would bring back bad memories. It would make me feel that I’d been the ultimate loser in the war between us, a reality I’ve spent so much of my life battling against.

But I realize that’s not my ultimate concern.

“I’m worried he’ll reject me, and it’ll break my heart,” I say quietly.

“But isn’t your heart going to break not being with him anyway?” Andrew asks.

I suck in a breath. “Damn you and your insanely logical brain.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, Matthew. Only you can decide if it’s worth the risk.”

He’s right.

Only I can decide.

I thank Andrew and say my goodbyes, wishing him a happy holiday before I head downstairs to find Mom busy sticking all the Christmas star wishes onto sturdy cardboard so they can be displayed on the Christmas tree at the festival tonight.

“Are you going to write a Christmas star wish?” she asks me.

I pick up a star, turning over the card in my hand, and I can’t help remembering how I’d used Christmas stars as another arena to battle with Liam over the years.

How we managed to turn something as bright and positive as wishing on a Christmas star into another negative interaction between us.

And how ironic that if you asked me right now what the deepest wish of my heart is, it would be him.

Surely that means he’s worth taking a risk over?

I stare at the cut-out star shapes spread out over the table.

“Do you have a pen?” I ask my mother.