Page 29

Xander, December 26th

W ith the tentative peace established between myself and Nicko, the winter holidays fly past.

We take out Coach for more walks, dragging Nate along with us, though he stays at the back of the group, interacting with the dog as little as possible. I can’t relate there, and throw as many sticks as Coach likes, run with him through the snow, and try to buy his attention away from Nicko with treats.

Twice more we clear the driveway, although there’s no more snowball fights, as it starts to get colder and the snow freezes overnight. We actually have to work hard to make it safe for Mr. and Mrs. Van der Hoff to drive to work.

All too soon it’s Christmas Day. We spend the morning like a typical American family, exchanging gifts.

I have a bottle of wine for Mr. and Mrs. Van der Hoff, along with Vermont maple fudge. Nate gets a new book, and his brother gets a small bundle as well. In turn I get an eBook reader from my best friend. The expensive present makes me squirm.

Nicko’s present to me is an envelope. I half expect it to be one of those gift cards that play endless music as soon as they’re opened. I throw him a short glance, but he’s absorbed in teasing Nate about already burying his nose in his new book.

I open the envelope. It really is a card, but it doesn’t make any noises. There’s no note, only the subscription code for the New York Times Games. Which means unlimited Wordles for an entire year!

It’s unexpectedly thoughtful, and I feel like the boxers with the Rebels’ logo and the pack of sweets I got him can’t hold up. I almost say that out loud, but then think better of it.

Once the excitement over the gifts has died down, we all settle more or less quietly on the couch. Nate and I finish the daily Wordle, then we marvel at all the new games my subscription opens up to me. We end up doing crosswords until it’s time for dinner.

I feel odd, sitting amongst another family, celebrating with them. I don’t know if the topic is more prominent in my head because of the conversation with Nicko the other morning, but I have a hard time not comparing this to when I was younger and still newly adopted.

I’m glad when I can excuse myself from the table to take my plate and sit at the desk in the guest room. The screen of my laptop stays empty for a few moments before the call connects.

“Happy Christmas!” my mothers chorus. They’re both sitting in front of a small tree, decorated with fairy lights, red baubles, and a few ornaments I recognize as ones I made in school.

Our dog, Marigold, barks happily at their chanting. She wears a Santa hat for half a second before shaking herself, making it fly off in a wide arc. She barks again and chases after it.

My heart squeezes inside my chest as we all laugh.

“Happy Christmas, mom,” I smile and wink at my other mother, “and to you too, mom.”

“So cheeky! Is that what they’re teaching you at college?”

“You look thin! Are you–”

“Yes, mom, I’m eating! A lot, actually, look!” I show my plate that still has half the amazing dinner on it. I describe the dish to my mothers who nod and smile.

“That sounds lovely! Please give our best to the Van der Hoffs. We hope you had a nice celebration.”

“Yeah, I did,” I smile, swallowing thickly. “Did you get your presents?”

“Yes,” Bea smiles, brushing her hair back and reaching for the wrapped parcels I had sent them weeks ago, to make sure they’d arrive on the West Coast. “We wanted to wait for you before opening them.”

“It’s not much,” I say quickly as they both unpack. There’s more maple syrup fudge and chocolates, a colorful scarf for Bea, and new gardening gloves for Darla. I hope that I can spoil them properly after receiving my signing bonus.

They coo over their presents before bombarding me with questions about how my vacation has been, the results of my midterms, hockey, and a thousand other things that make my head spin.

We end up talking for so long that I barely notice how dark it has gotten in the room until I have to squint. I jump as someone’s silhouette appears in a sliver of light mirrored in the dark window behind my laptop.

“Fu—mh!” I only just manage to suppress the curse but my mothers still tut away on the screen.

“Just wanted to tell you to get some dessert before Nicko eats it all,” Nate says, prompting some protest from behind him.

“I heard that!”

“There’s no way!”

I snort at their bickering. “I’m talking to my mothers. Dessert can wait.”

“See? He doesn’t even want it!”

The twins’ banter grows quieter as they head back downstairs. I’m still smiling as I turn back to my laptop.

“Go, Xander. We’ll talk again soon,” Bea says with a broad smile.

“Oh, okay.” It’s always hard to hang up, but secretly I do want to know what a Dutch Christmas Log looks and tastes like.

“Goodnight and speak soon! Happy Holidays!” I say again, waving at the camera before I exit the program.

***

On our last day of vacation, Mr. Van der Hoff cooks another incredible meal, and there’s a round of card games that I lose, but I don’t care because it’s so much fun.

My mind is buzzing when I pack my things, refolding T-shirts that have gotten tangled with my underwear and socks. It’s probably futile and will look just as chaotic when I unpack again back at the dorm, but I know it’s useless trying to sleep while my head is swirling with all the impressions of the last few days.

I’m hung up on wondering whether the fragile peace between Nicko and I will translate back to Vermont, or if we will go back to spitting at one another.

Over the past few days there wasn’t an opportunity to test if we could get along without Nate being right there.

Eventually, I go to bed and try to get some sleep.

It’s no use. I toss and turn for what feels like hours until I’ve finally had enough of mulling the same questions over and over in my head.

Nicko and I thought we were clever by leaving it at a one-time thing, but I cannot get that afternoon out of my head. At the very least I want to have one more talk about it. Maybe– I cut myself off. Why speculate when I can just ask.

I pull some sweatpants over my boxers but don’t bother with a T-shirt. I feel like a burglar as I make my way downstairs through the quiet house, every room dark until I make it to the living room.

As I hoped, the TV is still on. In the low light it takes me two glances to be sure it’s Nicko sitting in the shimmering glow. He’s watching some replays of last year’s Frozen Four; I recognize the yellow jerseys of BostonU clashing with the bright red ones of the Chicago Comets.

“Hey,” I whisper-shout to not startle him. He still flinches and reaches for the remote. His eyes look almost blue in the light of the TV as they find me.

“What the hell,” Nicko grumbles, and for a moment I see my surname hover on his lips before he cuts himself off.

“Sorry,” I say and mean: Get over it . “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Have a feeling you’re going to anyway, even if I said no,” Nicko sasses, but he turns down the volume while I sit down on the edge of the couch. Then I think better of it and scoot a little closer so I can keep my voice low.

“I just wanted to make sure we’re okay,” I start, slowly, dragging my lower lip through my teeth. The words aren’t quite the right ones, but I hope Nicko understands.

He snorts instead, looking at me with raised brows. “Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Because we–”

“Christ, Ale– Xa–...Xanxan.”

“What, that’s the best nickname you could come up with? Not exactly polka-dotted puppy worthy.”

“Shut up. Besides, why are you going all soft? We fucked, so what?” he whispers the last part, throwing a look over my shoulder as if he expects his words to go through the house like an alarm.

Not letting myself be deterred, I try again. “I know. And I’m not going soft, I just...what we...I mean…” God, I hate stammering like that, so I cut myself off, take a deep breath and set my shoulders.

I’m not some blushing virgin, and neither am I prone to falling for just anyone over sex. But it doesn’t feel like just sex.

I hated Nicko's guts for three years after all, and not without reason either. But then, over the last few days, I have seen those sides of him that remind me of all the tense moments between us when I thought he was Nate. How different I felt about my supposed best friend then. The sparks that made me feel challenged.

I want more of that. At the least I want to make sure I'm not the only one who's seeing the other differently now.

I turn to look straight at him, leaving no room for evasion.

“What I mean,” I start again, voice resolute and just a bit louder than before, “I wanted to ask you–”

Nicko gets on his knees, leaning forward until he has to catch himself with one hand against my chest.

“Shut up, Xanxan,” he breathes, as if his sudden closeness hasn’t already rendered me mute. His mouth slides against mine as he pushes me back.

I land on the cushions, Nicko’s body on top of me. I welcome the weight, curling one arm around his waist, the other finding its way into his hair, tangling in the light strands. His head tilts and we both gasp for air before we dive back into one another.

Nicko’s teeth are sharp against my lower lip. I tug on his hair in retaliation for the spike of pain as he bites down.

He growls, then his tongue slides into my mouth, pushing against mine. As always, he fights for the upper hand.

I do my best to fight back, even when I’m at a disadvantage with my legs framing Nicko’s, my hands pulling him closer instead of pushing to turn him over.

His hips rub against my own, and I break away from his mouth with a harsh groan.

We both freeze, our bodies tense as we wait for a noise that could announce that someone has heard us.

The house stays quiet.

I kiss the sigh of relief off of Nicko’s lips, chasing him as he sits up. My hands slide over his thighs, under the hem of his shirt. I never got my question out, but the moment has passed. His interruption was answer enough.

If he wants to keep things strictly physical, I can do that. And if he really meant just to get it out of our system …well, it’s not out of my system yet.

“Let’s move this upstairs.” I slide my hands under his knees. When I push myself up from the couch, I take him with me, wrapping his legs around my waist.

Nicko gasps sharply, then claps one of his hands over his mouth, the other wrapping around my neck.

“Show-off!” he manages as I take a few steps then turn us toward the stairs. They’ll be a challenge with his added weight.

“Twenty-five pounds, remember?” I smirk, leaning in to nose along his throat. He’s too close not to take advantage, so I suck over his pulse point as well, dragging another low moan out of Nicko. It’s muffled behind his hand, but he still smacks me.

“Yes, yes. You’re a big strong boy, but if you fuck up your back, you won’t be playing any hockey at all,” Nicko huffs and squirms, but I just hold his legs more tightly as I conquer the stairs.

Luckily the guest room is the closest, because even if I like showing off for him, Nicko isn’t exactly a lightweight. I nudge the door shut behind us as I carry him over to the bed.

“Don’t you da–!” Nicko’s protest breaks off as I dump him onto the mattress.

Grinning, I crawl over him before he can complain more, silencing him with a kiss.

He growls at first, tilting his head to the side to evade me.

Unbothered, I trail my lips along his jaw, humming soothingly.

Nicko forgives me soon enough, pulling me into another kiss. His fingers run through my hair and then down over my back, along my sides. He tugs on my sweatpants once he reaches my hips.

I don’t let him rush me along; rather, I focus on pulling his shirt up. I groan softly at the smooth skin I expose, lowering my head to close my lips around Nicko’s left nipple.

“Ass!” Nicko swears, getting tangled in his own shirt, huffing when he finally throws it off to the side.

I smile and continue to explore his skin with my mouth, licking along his pecs down to his abs, dragging my tongue over the dips between his muscles. As I move lower I tug his pajama pants down his legs. It’s a struggle, since Nicko squirms impatiently, more hindrance than help, but in the end they’re off, and I can slide my hands up over his thighs, teasing along the hemlines of his boxers.

He lifts his hips, expecting me to take them off next, but instead I lean down to place my mouth over the growing bulge. His skin radiates warmth even through the fabric.

“Stop playing!” Nicko urges me, shimmying his hips again. He digs his heels into the mattress to push himself further up. His hands fumble to pull his boxers down. I chuckle and take advantage of the slivers of skin he exposes but don’t help him deal with his underwear.

“Hart!” he snaps, pushing at my head with one hand. I snort and worm my fingers into the elastic to pull his boxers down his legs.

“You’re such a brat,” I move down over his hips, looking up at him before I nose through his pubic hair. “I shouldn’t reward you.”

Nonetheless, I brush my lips along his hard length, watching his head tip back as he moans. It’s erotic and encouraging at once, so I keep going, slowly working my way down, pressing short kisses to the inside of his thighs before curling my fingers around the base of his erection.

I trace my tongue over the crown then take him into my mouth.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” Nicko whines, legs tensing as he pushes his hips up toward me.

I let him, closing my eyes to focus on breathing in through my nose, tilting my head fractionally to lean into his hands as they tangle in my hair.

Feeling him slide in and out of my mouth as he rolls his hips, makes me lightheaded. Nicko’s breathing is just as labored, mixed with groans and gasps that turn frustrated as his rhythm stutters.

I hum around him, sliding down further now that he isn’t surging up anymore.

“Fucking– Xander! Move!”

My lips stretch around him into a smirk as I pointedly don’t do as he says. Instead, I focus on pulling back, sucking on the tip of his erection.

He bucks a few more times, but his thighs shake next to my head. With a frustrated groan he slumps on the bed, hips still twitching but not making it off the mattress anymore.

My hands slide up to frame his sides, holding on before I slowly pull all the way off, sucking a mark over his hip bone. His erection twitches.

“Tired already?”

“You–!” he breaks off as I close my lips around him again, hollowing my cheeks as I move down along his length. He nudges the back of my throat, and I move back.

Leaning over him, I can dictate the rhythm now that Nicko’s lying there, panting and not interrupting me by bucking his hips. I take full advantage of it, dragging out my movements to slide down as slowly as I can, keeping my lips and cheeks tight around him. Then I move back up while trailing my tongue along the underside of Nicko’s cock.

I take another deep breath, then slide down again, taking him further this time.

He jerks under my hands, letting out a strangled groan. His hands tense in my hair. He must be close.

For a moment I play with the thought of doing to Nicko what he did in the locker room—letting him come in my mouth but then making him taste his own release. But as his moans grow louder it becomes too tempting to swallow him down. My lashes flutter closed as I feel him slide hotly down my throat. His taste and smell surround me as I groan deeply, fingers tensing on his hips. He bucks up for a last time, his breathless gasp cutting off as he comes.

I swallow reflexively, taking most of his release right down, only tasting the last salty drops as I pull back. I make sure he’s fully spent, licking over him lazily until his hands push against my head and he lets out a soft whimper.

The pull in my groin is an afterthought as I climb up the bed again, settling in heavily next to Nicko.

I push a hand down my pants, groaning lowly when curling my fingers around myself is almost painful. My other hand settles over Nicko’s hip, massaging the skin. I nose blindly over his cheek until I find his lips.

The kiss is lopsided and messy. He’s still sluggish from his orgasm, and I’m teetering on the edge of my own. It only takes a few strokes, and I come into my hand and boxers with a soft groan that I muffle against Nicko’s shoulder.

All of my limbs suddenly weigh a ton, the buzz that kept me awake earlier a distant memory.

“Now we’re even,” I mutter, only half aware of what I’m saying before I drift off, enjoying the warmth of another body next to mine.