Christmas Carol

“People are assholes on the best of days. If they are giving it’s because they need a tax deduction or they’re shmucks. Little kids might believe in magic, but for every one child that believes in Santa, there are ten more that knows there’s no man with rosy cheeks coming down a chimney to bring them gifts. If anything, there’s a man with a beer belly ready to beat them to remind them they should be thankful there’s a roof—which is usually leaking—over their head.”

“Cyrus—”

“The lights are pretty, mi corazón, but the darkness is pure evil at times,” I tell her, my voice strong, although I try to keep the tone quiet and I don’t even know why.

We stare at one another, our gazes locked.

“And the snow is just damn cold,” Krissy says, lightly, breaking the moment.

Carol and I both turn to look at her. I think we’re both startled. I see understanding in Krissy’s eyes. She shared Carol’s mom and from everything I’ve heard the girls discuss today—which wasn’t a lot, but I pick up on small things and things I’ve heard Ida Sue mutter about when discussing Carol with Parker while I was there…. I know their mother was a piece of work. Still, during the girls’ conversation today, they talked about the Christmas party next month at the orphanage. Apparently, Krissy volunteers there, so maybe she knows what I’m talking about because she’s seen the scars on the kids there. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful she’s giving me an out and I laugh.

“Damn cold,” I agree.

I hadn’t meant to get so serious, but maybe it’s better this way. Carol needs to know who I am…

Because I’m scared there’s a chance I may not want to let her go.CarolThe ride home from my sister’s is quiet. Cyrus seems preoccupied and I’m digesting everything I learned about Cyrus. If you put the two of us on paper, there’s no way we could work. We’re so different. Still, for every small thing I can think of that makes the emotions he evokes in me impossible, there’s one thing that pushes to the forefront. There’s a physical pull between us that just seems to get stronger. There have been guys who have tried to get to know me, but I’ve never paid attention to them. There was never anything about them that made me want to learn more about them. Logically, I know the choices my mother made has scarred me. I never wanted to become her, so to fight that, I became a candidate for the Guinness Book of World Records for the world’s oldest living virgin. I’ve never worried about it—or questioned my decision until Cyrus came into my life.

“Cyrus, I think maybe we should talk—”

“Carol, Bebé, you know as well as I do at this point, there is no going back.”

“I think I should remind you that we’ve only known each other two days, and one of those days you spent cursing my innocent Abominable.”

“Abominable?”

“My dog. Krissy calls her Abbie, but my doggy can be a little messy.”

Cyrus laughs. “That’s not a dog, Carol. It’s bigger than a pony.”

“She is not,” I giggle—although he’s right.

“You and I are going to enjoy each other tonight, Carol. Perhaps I wouldn’t insist on it, but I can tell you want me as much as I want you.”

“I don’t see how you can know that. We’ve only shared one kiss really.”

“It was a really damn good kiss, Bebé,” he counters and there’s not much I can say to that, because he’s right. It really was. We pull into my drive and I can feel my heart beating against my chest. I feel like there are a million butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I clear my throat.

“Are we…I mean… crap.”

Cyrus laughs. “Are you asking your place or mine?”

“Yeah,” I squeak.

“Well, at my place the sheets smell like old ladies and menthol,” he warns.

“Mine smell nice, but you should know that Abbie sleeps at the foot of my bed and she can get territorial…”

“My place it is,” he grumbles.

I sit there and wait. Not because I’m waiting for him to come around and open my door—which he does. And it’s not because I’m putting off what’s about to happen next—at least not fully. It’s mostly because I’m so nervous that I feel like I can’t breathe. Cyrus helps me out of the car, and his large hand grasps my shaking one.

“Don’t be so nervous, Bebé. It will be good, I promise you,” he murmurs, and I nod, because I don’t doubt that at all. It’s all of the unknown that makes me nervous.

“I know,” I admit. We stand there in the driveway, his hand pressed against the side of my neck, his thumb brushing along my chin, his eyes staring into mine and my entire body feels heated. He drops his head down, his lips coming closer to mine. They touch, slide against mine and then he pulls so they’re just a breath away, before repeating. It’s a slow tease and I meet his lips the next time and I’m the one instigating the kiss, sliding my tongue inside his mouth and tentatively seeking his out. Cyrus doesn’t let me keep control, though. Instead, he takes over and the kiss becomes hungry and intense. I feel my body being lifted off the ground, his arm sliding under my knees, my body contorting, bending so that we don’t break the kiss the entire time. I feel weightless as he carries me, my fingers tangling into his hair, pulling his lips to mine, not wanting to let him go—not even to breathe. I’m doing this… I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m going to make love with Cyrus. I’m going to give him my virginity. I don’t know how Cyrus managed to get us inside the house. Yet somehow, he did. It didn’t seem like we stopped kissing the entire way, but logically I know we had to have. Now, we’re standing in the bedroom and as often as I’ve been to Clara’s I never thought I’d be having sex here. It adds to my nerves but as Cyrus stands in front of me, his intense eyes staring into mine as he whips his t-shirt over his head, I can’t look away. I watch as the shirt goes flying across the room, his bronze skin looking as if it were kissed by the gods. He’s silky smooth, I don’t see any hair. I always thought the guy I would finally pick would have chest hair, but I couldn’t imagine Cyrus being any more perfect. I lick my lips wanting to kiss every inch of his body that he just revealed.