His: MMF Bisexual Holiday Romance Read online

  I feel like I’m going to explode, going to shatter into a billion jagged bits and fly apart with the force of my climax. I realize that I’m going to scream a split second before it happens. I’m suddenly terrified that my neighbors will hear me cry out and call the cops, but I can’t bear to stop now. I plunge under the surface of my bath just in time to reach my peak, releasing my wild scream of ecstasy as a rush of silent bubbles.

  I surface, panting and drained, full of a delicious languor that has nothing to do with the rapidly cooling bath water. I slump against the smooth porcelain of my tub, dazed and smiling dreamily. My hand is sore from gripping the edge of the tub so hard, and I feel boneless, but I couldn’t care less.

  “Luke,” I murmur into the silent apartment. “Oh, my God, Luke.”

  The man isn’t even here, and he still wrecks me.

  Chapter 2

  Aiden

  I reach out for the tablet that my new customer hands me, and I do a quick scan through of the names on his Christmas shopping list, neatly annotated with ages, relationship, and notes about possible gift ideas based on their interests. The man is not only ridiculously hot, but also crazy organized.

  “Hunh,” I say, cocking half a grin and looking up at him. “A little understated, maybe, when you said you were buying for a ‘fair’ number of people?” I hand it back to him carefully, with both hands. I’ve been told since I was a kid that I didn’t know my own strength, and I can’t blame ’em. When you’re as big a guy as I am, and when you get as much shit about it as I did when I was a kid, you learn to treat things very carefully.

  He takes the tablet back, smiling, and I can’t help but notice his beautiful blue eyes. The stuff on his list could easily cover a few months of my rent, and there’s no way I’d do anything to fuck up my commission on this sale, but those eyes definitely make it far easier to keep the trademark customer service smile on my face.

  “I think we can get you taken care of, sir,” I say to him, before the pause stretches too long.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” he responds. “That takes a lot of stress off my mind. It’s the first Christmas that I can’t spend at home, so these gifts are especially important.” I feel his eyes piercing into mine a bit, appraising me, making sure that I’m taking him seriously. “And please, call me Luke. After all, I know your name.”

  “You do?” I say, momentarily taken off-guard.

  He smiles, and points a finger at my name tag. The customer service smile briefly gives way to a genuine smile, and I laugh. “Got it,” I reply, and take a moment to savor that brief uncertain flutter inside. It’s been a while since I last felt this way. Not since college.

  “We should keep it fair, after all,” he says.

  I nod in return. “Absolutely. Luke it is, then.” Looking at this guy, it’s hard to imagine he even knows what the word stress means. He carries himself like he’s got the world at his feet and he knows exactly where he’s going. I admire it in him, but it stands in stark contrast to my own life, constantly on the clock, working retail with a mandated smile on my face.

  I look to the computer and pull up one of the order management screens, carefully but quickly filling in his details. Thankfully, Luke has occupied himself with looking around at the floor displays, making it safe for me to steal glances as I work. Is he married? Surely he’s married. But there’s no wife on his manifest, a traitorous little voice inside me says, and I realize it’s correct. Doesn’t mean anything, though; he could just as easily have done her shopping on his own. That’s what I’d do, if I had someone to do it for.

  My fingers are working automatically now, and my mind continues to reel off in other directions. Even if he’s taken, who says he doesn’t think you’re cute? Who says he’s straight? I push the thought away. In Boston, even as liberal as it can be, it’s still very rare to see high-powered business types who enjoy being flirted with by guys.

  Guys like you, you mean. I hate to admit that the voice is right. I find myself taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, trying to push the sudden tension out. Times like these, especially around the holidays, I tend to get flooded with memories of my family. Nothing wonderful, sadly; the moment they found out that I wasn’t exactly straight, they completely severed ties with me. It happened while I was home from college a few years ago. They were never all that loving or supportive to begin with, but that was a huge blow to me when it happened.

  I can feel the heat slowly starting to glow around my eyes, and I clamp down hard on it before Luke, or anyone, can see. They aren’t worth my tears, at least not right at this moment. Right now, I have another family to look after, if I’m going to help Luke get their presents taken care of in time. I wasn’t kidding when I said there were a lot of people on his list: parents, a couple of sisters, brother-in-law, nephew, cousins, the works. For a moment, my eyes slide over to Luke again, and a happy little warmth spreads inside of me.

  And of course, that’s the moment when Luke decides to look right back at me. I freeze for just a second, put the retail smile on again, and say “So uh, where did you say you were from? For the shipping.” And yeah, I do need to know that, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious, too. I want to know more about this guy; I want to know what makes him tick, what kind of life he’s had that he looks so confident and at ease in his own skin. I’d go crazy wearing a suit like that, but he looks as comfortable in it as I do in my off-work Henley and jeans. That suit—it means money, the kind that knows the difference between expensive and truly good quality. But he’s still here, shopping on what has to be his lunch break, instead of sending some assistant to do it for him. Wherever his family is, it’s obvious that he really cares about them.

  I wish I had a family that gave that much of a shit about what I’d like for Christmas. I wish I had a family that gave a shit about me at all. I tried to mend fences, even after they cut me off and my life was falling apart. I don’t know what I was hoping for, to be honest. Maybe that they’d magically get over the fact that they showed up unannounced in my dorm room while I was making out with the cute boy from my swim team. Maybe, even, that they’d come to their senses and realize that my bisexuality didn’t mean that their dreams of grandkids had gone totally out of the window.

  But whatever I was hoping for? No dice, not at all. Dad yelled at me for a solid twenty minutes, just the most angry and ugly words that I can still hear clearly. Mom just cried, of course. Cried and refused to acknowledge any of it. Later that night, she told me that she thought I could beat this, that I was better than this. Imagine my surprise when I found out from my asshole brother that she was the one who convinced Dad to cut off my tuition, effectively putting me on this damn retail counter for the rest of my life.

  So, yeah. Better to focus on someone else’s family, before my stomach knots itself any tighter than it already is.

  “Arizona,” Luke says, startling me out of my thoughts.

  I can’t help my eyebrows going up, and I quickly wick away the tension sweat that’s just starting to form on my brow. “You’re a long way from home,” I say, putting the façade on in full force. The last thing I need is for this beautiful and successful man see me in a state. “Let me guess. Phoenix?”

  Luke laughs a little. “Not quite—I’m from Sedona.” He smiles, his face softening with affection. “Do you know it?”

  I shake my head. I’ve never heard of it, but now I wish I had. Any place that makes Luke’s face light up like that has to be awesome. I feel a sharp stab of longing; this is a guy with a very clear idea of home. Am I ever going to have a place that feels that way again?

  His grin widens. “It’s very… Fleetwood Mac, let’s say. A lot of crystals, a lot of art galleries. Phenomenal Mexican food.”

  I want to spend all day listening to this guy talk about where he’s from; hell, with that low, sexy voice, I’d listen to him read the phone book. And what makes you think he’d read it to you? I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose
, taking a breath. I shouldn’t be sexualizing this guy, this customer. Especially not after everything that’s happened in my life. He’s leaving my life very soon, just like all the others, and I need to stop putting my emotions at risk.

  “Are you okay?” he asks me. Do I hear a small note of genuine concern in there?

  I dummy up and get myself in the façade one more time. “I’m fantastic, just a little headache is all. But hey, you’re probably on the clock, right? Let’s get this wrapped up.”

  Luke smiles, and I resume typing information into the computer. “So, crystals, huh?” I say, forcing a professional smile. “Well, says here that we’ve got some really great fair trade stuff in, right this way.”

  Twenty minutes later, everything is bought, shipping is scheduled, and I’m helping Luke finish up his last gift-wrapping selection. I’ve never seen a customer so decisive, so certain of what he wants; even when he declines a suggestion of mine, he has a clear reason that helps me find something even better. Even though I’ve never met his family, I feel like I almost know them from Luke’s careful gift selection.

  “They’re going to love all of these,” Luke says, his deep voice full of satisfaction and genuine pleasure. He looks up at me, and those blue eyes seem to hold me like a tractor beam. “You really came through for me, Aiden,” he says. “Give me your card, I want to make sure I work with you the next time I have to buy anyone a gift.”

  He likes me. Really, for real, he likes me. Sure, maybe just as a shopping assistant, but I can’t help the warm glow I feel all the same. I deal with shithead customers all the time, and I see a hundred faces every day that I’ve already forgotten by bedtime. Luke, though, he really sees me as a person, as an individual. I can’t help the huge smile that comes over my face, and right now I don’t care. This is so heady.

  I hand him my card, and watch him as he actually reads it. “Aiden Campbell,” he says, and I get a weird little jolt from him saying my full name. “Well, Aiden,” he starts as he tucks the card into his wallet, “I’ll definitely remember you.” He winks, and that little jolt threatens to turn into an electric storm inside my chest.

  Then, just like that, he’s out the door and headed back to whatever important thing he does for a living. All the energy seems to drain completely out of me. Now there’s just the same empty, aching bleakness I’ve been dealing with from the moment the store put up holiday decorations.

  I flag down my supervisor, Bridget. “I gotta take five,” I tell her, and she gives me a thumbs-up. Bridget is good people.

  I make it all the way back to the breakroom before I let my professional smile drop. I slump into a chair and put my head down on the cheap folding table. In here, at least, there aren’t any decorations, even if I can still hear Bing Crosby over the store loudspeakers.

  If I had a say in it, we’d be playing that old Ren & Stimpy song from when I was a little kid: “I Hate Christmastime.” My last happy Christmas was so long ago that I can barely remember it at this point. After what my family did to me, I don’t think I’ll ever find the holidays happy again. The only thing I’m thankful for, right now, is that I’m the only one on break. No one watching me, no one I need to put on the show for. Moments with pleasant customers are fleeting, at best, and moments with customers like Luke are practically nonexistent.

  My brother, asshole that he is, at least has a job in construction. Maybe I can call him and ask about getting on a crew somewhere. Maybe digging holes and carting lumber for hours will at least keep me exhausted enough to kill my own constant internal monologue on how crappy things are, especially right now.

  But, that’s something to think about tomorrow, if I even remember. For now, I have a job to do, and I’ll get through it. No idea how, but I will.

  I practically slam into my locker. The day is done, and thank God, it couldn’t have come any sooner. Retail is usually a shitshow in general, and though I’m pretty great at keeping the facade up for as long as I have to, there’s just something about Christmas that makes people go even crazier than normal. Maybe it’s all the brightly colored lights and the almost manically cheerful music everywhere, somehow whipping people into a holly-jolly frenzy.

  It definitely gets to me. I used to really love Christmas; all my happiest memories are out in the snow, building forts and singing carols with my friends. Even all the church services my folks dragged us kids to were more fun when they were about the Nativity story. It was probably the one time of year that everyone came together to really be a loving, functional family.

  Now, I just find it funny, how different things were on a single day of the year, compared to the rest of the year with all of the judgmental sniping. I was constantly teased for being the sensitive one, when really I just didn’t understand why my family had so much hate inside for anything that deviated from the norm. It was as though Christmas was the one day of the year that they would let me out, let me be artistic, let me be silly, and let me have a break from the minefield for just a little while. I don’t know; maybe they thought it made up for the other 364 days of ugliness.

  I head out into the cold of Downtown Crossing, and the breeze hits me like a ton of bricks. It’s like a wind tunnel down here in the winter. I don’t have anywhere in particular to go, but the thought of heading right home to my dark, empty apartment is way too depressing. I’m tugging up the collar of my peacoat, wishing I had enough money scraped together to get something warmer, when someone rings a bell almost directly behind me and I almost jump out of my skin.

  “Ho ho ho!” a loud voice booms, and I whirl to see a huge older guy, all decked out in a Santa suit and standing next to one of those tin charity collection buckets on a tripod. “Merry Christmas, young man!”

  Dude. It’s still November, come on. I manage not to wince, but it’s a close call.

  Santa rings the bell again, his eyes twinkling and everything. Damn, he’s good. “A gift for those less fortunate, in this joyous time, young man?” He gestures toward the little red bucket.

  For a moment, Santa’s words snapped me out of my little dark cloud. Maybe there was some truth to that. My life, all considered, isn’t too bad. I’ve got a job, an apartment, and I’ve got my health. Maybe I could lay off some of the stress eating, but I do my best to work it all off with the kettlebell set I lucked into from a cheap Craigslist ad.

  Of course, all of that goes away if I’m not very careful with my money, and I’m probably only one paycheck away from being homeless.

  That didn’t last very long. I’m back in my little cloud, but the least I can do is throw a few coins into the bucket and help make a difference for someone out there.

  “Yeah,” I started, searching my pants for anything I could spare. “I think I have…” I find a crumpled single and a few spare coins, change from my lunchtime Dunkin’ run. “Here you go,” I say, tucking it into the little slot.

  The old guy beams, his eyes bright over his cheap fake beard. “Ho ho ho!” he says in a big, booming Burl Ives impression. “That will be sure to get you on my Nice List, young man!” He puts one gloved finger up to his nose, like we’re sharing a secret. “You had better tell Santa what you’d like for Christmas!”

  I would roll my eyes, but why be a dick to someone freezing their ass off for charity? Instead, almost before I can stop myself, I say, “I don’t know, got a cure for loneliness in there?”

  The charity Santa blinks at me, his expression turning concerned.

  “Oh, son,” he says, dropping the Santa voice. He looks like he wants to clap me on the shoulder and pull me into a big, manly hug.

  The soft, warm fatherly tone takes me aback for a second. I shouldn’t have said that, of course, there are plenty of folks in the world who need more than I do, but I couldn’t help but feel my chest tighten up. It had been an emotionally exhausting day for me so far, and this is about to send all my feelings cresting over the dam.

  Before I can stop him, he wraps his arms around me and I let him. I can�
�t help it. For one single moment in today’s sea of sadness, I feel safe and protected. I feel like I can let go. A few tears spill over before I can stop them, soaking into Santa’s cheap red velveteen coat.

  I snap out of it, and find myself mortified to be in this position, hugging a stranger on Summer Street. Who honestly answers that kind of question the way I just did? You’re supposed to just say, “Oh, fine, peachy,” even if your world is complete dogshit. I try to gently break free of Santa’s grasp before this gets even more awkward than it already is. Santa lets go sooner than I expect, though, and suddenly I find myself stepping backwards much faster than I intended. This might as well happen, I say to myself as I start to fall backwards, scrambling my hands around for something to grab onto.

  And of course I fall directly into someone, hard. Someone a few inches shorter than me, but so solidly packed with muscle that I practically bounce right off them and directly into Santa’s charity stand, which I grab tightly for balance. Awesome, can’t get better than this.

  I stabilize myself, hope to God that my cheeks aren’t as red as they feel, and turn to see who I just bodychecked. There, in all his glory, is Luke. Hot customer of the century, there to catch me at my clumsiest.

  “Shit,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he smiles. He doesn’t look hurt, thankfully; if anything, he probably did more damage to me. What is he, carved out of rock? You’d probably chip a tooth if you bit his butt. Not that I would ever entertain thoughts of biting Luke’s butt or anything. Is that even what you do to guys? Christ, I can’t even fantasize right. Maybe one day I’ll get over my hangups and figure it out, but today just isn’t my day, is it?

  “It’s good to see you again, Aiden,” Luke says, and it snaps me right out of my sad little reverie. Holy shit! He remembered my name! He actually remembered my name!