Page 65 of Under the Mistletoe with You

Ambrose:oh no you’re having a gay panic

Ambrose:this is so cute

Christopher:I’m not.

Christopher:Maybe a small one?

Laurel:I assure you it’s not that different from sharing a bed with anyone else.It’ll be like when I stayed over all the time.

Christopher:We were dating!That’s my point!!!

Laurel:Darling, you were able to restrain yourself from jumping my bones every night, so I’m sure you can do the same with Nash Nadeau for one night.

Ambrose:did you just say jumping my bones

Ambrose:im dying

Ambrose:please, my bones, they are very sick

Christopher:I know, but it’s not just one night.It’ll be every night until he leaves if we set the precedent now.

Ambrose:Christopher.I’m going to be really serious for a second.Look I’m using capitals and everything.

Ambrose:Are you listening?

Christopher:Yes.

Ambrose:do you have lube

Christopher:I hate you.

Laurel:It’s an important question darling.

Christopher:An irrelevant one!I’m not planning on having sex with him!!That’s the whole point!I’m just!!

Laurel:Unless the opportunity arises because darling I think you should take it.Bonk the man of your Hallmark dreams!

Ambrose:get some get some

Christopher:I don’t think he’s interested even if I was, which to be clear I’m not!

Ambrose:well he should be!have you seen yourself, you’re a hot little slice

Laurel:Americans love a Brit.It’s the accent.

Christopher:He’s Canadian

Laurel:I’m sure they love it too

There’s no way he’s going to do anything with this man.It’s more that, well, the spectre of it all hangs over him.Theideaof what could happen.It’s been so long since he was intimate with anyone, even longer since it was someone he wasn’t just letting off steam with.

He needs to get himself together.After all, this is probably all in his head and they’re right, he’s quite possibly making a bigger deal out of this than he needs to.And Nash must not think anything of it, else he wouldn’t have suggested it, right?

These are the sorts of sensible things Kit and Haf probably would have said to him.In hindsight, he probably should have swallowed the shame of hitting up his sister for advice.

With a few deep breaths in and out, he imagines himself rolling out croissant dough.A triangle rolled up becomes a delicious layered laminated curl.The smell of butter and warmed pastry.The milky coffee he’d have with it.All of these images and smells fill his brain, and while they don’t quite push out all the wriggling thoughts and feelings, they shrink them.They’re pushed aside just enough for him to breathe them out.Or bake them into the imaginary pastry.

Time to be normal, he tells himself.Time to get ready for bed.It’s just a normal day, a normal getting-ready-for-bed.Nothing to worry about.There’s nothing different about tonight.