Merry Cherry Christmas

“Oh, I remember.” Honey tapped his phone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” When Honey didn’t answer, Max nudged his knee with his bare foot.

Honey’s gaze was still on his phone as he said, “What did you two do yesterday?”

“Went shopping. Had lunch. Then here for poker.”

“Mm-hmm. Then skating. Then hot chocolate. Then walking around the Christmas market. You know, like a date.”

Max scoffed. “With you and the guys! That’s not a date.”

“Spent all day together.” Honey scrolled lazily with his finger, eyes on the phone screen. “Like one big-ass date you didn’t want to end.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. I spend plenty of days with you. Are we on a date right now? Should I have brought chocolates?”

“You know I never say no to chocolate.” Honey flashed him a grin before going back to his phone. “The big difference is you don’t look at me like you’re drooling for a mouthful of my dick. Not anymore, at least.”

“You wish.” He nudged Honey’s knee again with his foot—harder. Honey kicked back, and they foot wrestled for a few seconds. “And what the hell are you talking about? I’m helping Jeremy. He needs a friend. That’s it.”

“Uh-huh,” Honey agreed, tapping out a text with his thumbs. “You’re doing your broken wing thing. And you want a piece of that.”

“I do not!” Max froze, shocked at the ferocity of his own denial.

Slowly, Honey swiveled his head up and met Max’s eyes, his brows sky high. “Then why are you so pissed right now?”

Max forced a laugh, making a pfft noise. “I’m not.”

“If you say so, bro.” Honey went back to his phone.

Grabbing the controller, Max started another game, the familiar shooting sound effects filling the silence. He played for a few minutes, his shoulders up around his ears, controller movements jerky. He got killed again and tossed down the controller. It bounced onto the carpet.

“I’m just trying to help him.”

“Okay. But so what if you’re into him?”

“I shouldn’t be. He’s a baby.”

Honey abandoned his phone, brows meeting. “He must be eighteen at least?”

“Nineteen.”

“You’re twenty-two. What’s the big deal?”

“He’s a virgin, okay? So even if I am attracted to him—”

“Which you are. Even Mike noticed, dude. Mike.”

Max groaned. “Fine. Jeremy’s cute.” Saying it out loud made him squirm. He’d really, really, really tried not to think about it. “But he doesn’t need me taking advantage of him.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t. That’s not how you play. You’re the most responsible person I know besides my mom. You were captain for a reason. That virgin ass couldn’t be in safer hands.”

Max ruthlessly shut down all thoughts of Jeremy’s fine ass. “Look, it doesn’t matter if I’m into him. I said I’d help him get laid. That’s why we’re going out tonight.”

“Then help him get laid.” Honey swigged from a bottle of orange sports drink. “I know you’ll be all tender and shit. Want me to sleep at Alicia’s tonight?”

“No. I’m not screwing Jeremy. It wouldn’t be right. I’m going home to Pinevale in a few days.” The mess of feelings of both looking forward to Christmas while dreading his LSAT results was now joined by guilt over leaving Jeremy to spend the holidays alone. He hated to think of Jeremy all by himself in a depressing dorm room.

He was struck by a memory of his mom saying, “Christmas can be a very lonely time for some people.” He’d been baffled—Christmas was the best. Presents and food and time off school. His seven- or eight-year-old brain hadn’t been capable of imagining people lonely at the holidays.

Now, he imagined Jeremy’s family apparently off on some trip, leaving him in that bare dorm room. Max’s chest tightened. This was stupid. He barely even knew Jeremy. This was, what, day three? He shouldn’t feel attached to him already.

Sure, he was attracted to Jeremy. He could admit that. He was attracted to plenty of guys! It didn’t mean anything. But it was more than that. How was it more than that already? Why had he been watching the clock all damn day, counting down until he got to see Jeremy again?

“Even if Jeremy wanted me—”

“Oh, he does. You’re both real, real bad at hiding it.”

Despite himself, Max’s belly swooped like he’d just intercepted a pass. “You think he likes me?”

“Yeah, he passed me a note after third period. I put it in your locker. It said, ‘Does Max think I’m cute? Y-slash-N.’ So tomorrow in homeroom—”

“Okay, okay.” He had to laugh. “Fuck you.” Max slouched back on the cushions, blowing out a noisy breath. “This wasn’t the plan.”

“You and your plans.” Honey shrugged. “Roll with it. Now we gonna play, or what?”

They both grabbed controllers and started a new game. Max kept getting killed as his mind wandered again and again to Jeremy. T-minus five hours.

Not that he was counting.

“Just a sec!” Jeremy’s flustered voice came through the flimsy door.