Merry Cherry Christmas

Everyone groaned again, laughing. Mike said, “I haven’t had that in ages.”

Honey snorted. “Right, because your palate is so fucking refined these days.”

“This is craft beer, I’ll have you know.” Mike lifted his bottle. “I’m refined as fuck.”

“Since when is Rickard’s craft beer?” Max asked. “That’s Molson, you tool.”

Mike took a gulp from his bottle of Rickard’s White. “This is wheat beer. I squeezed a motherfucking lemon into it.”

“Do you even know what craft beer is?” Tyler asked.

“Clearly not,” Jeremy mumbled, then flushed, shocked he’d said it aloud.

The rest of them howled as Mike puffed up his chest. “Easy there, Smirnoff Ice.” Then he grinned and gave Jeremy’s shoulder a playful punch. Jeremy returned his smile as Mike took another gulp of his beer. “I don’t care what it’s called. I like it.”

They finished the pizza and Honey won just about all the coins on the table before saying, “Let’s go skating. The rink at Nathan Phillips is open to midnight this weekend. We’ve still got a few hours since we started so early.”

Everyone seemed into it, and Jeremy wondered if he should leave them to it. They probably didn’t want him hanging around all night. Max had already spent the whole day with him and had been way nicer than he had to be. Besides, Jeremy hadn’t been on skates since he was a kid.

Max nudged his arm. “You up for it?”

Jeremy said, “Uh, I’m not so great on ice. You might recall.”

“Now’s your chance to get revenge for us laughing at you,” Honey said. “Because I guarantee some of us will be falling all over the damn place.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” Mike grinned. “We’re drunk enough, but not too much to get kicked out or anything. I’ll order a ride.”

So Jeremy found himself squeezed into the back seat of a Lyft after Tyler convinced the driver to let them all pile in. Not just squeezed—he was sitting on Max’s lap. Max’s arm was slung around Jeremy’s waist, and Jeremy sat rigid, hardly breathing.

They bumped over streetcar tracks, and he mumbled, “Sorry.”

But Max only chuckled. Then he leaned forward and said quietly, “Relax. You’re good.” His breath ghosted over Jeremy’s ear, sending a ripple down his spine.

Beside them in the middle seat, Honey said, “Maxwell enjoys a cute boy sitting on his lap.”

From the front seat, Mike added, “Lap. Face. He’s easy.”

The guys laughed, and Max shrugged. “Where’s the lie?” He gave Jeremy’s waist a squeeze.

Was that a friendly squeeze? To get Jeremy to relax already? Or did it mean that Max really did like having Jeremy on his lap? Was Max hitting on him? Or was this all just friendly joking around? It had to be that. Max was way out of Jeremy’s league. Like, in another stratosphere.

No, Jeremy could not even think about going down that road. Max was only being nice. The end. Jeremy was not going to daydream about anything more. He was not going to start crushing on Max.

Fine, he already was, but he was nipping it in the bud. No more crushing. No more enjoying the warmth of Max’s body under him. The weight of his arm. The tickle of his exhalations on the back of Jeremy’s neck. He wondered—

Nope. No wondering. Abort the wondering. He needed to focus on ice skating and not humiliating himself.

Which didn’t go amazingly well but could have been worse. The rink was packed, Nathan Phillips Square decorated to within an inch of its life for the holidays with a giant menorah and Christmas tree, Toronto City Hall looming over the scene. Even though he lived right downtown, Jeremy realized he’d seen more of the city today than he had since school started.

Holiday music blasted, and he wondered how the people living in condos near the square felt about it. He supposed it was cold enough that their windows were shut anyway. The temperature had dropped enough that he was glad of the new winter gear. Max had assured him he could leave most of his purchases at the apartment to avoid carrying them around. Jeremy was pleased to have at least one more excuse to see Max and get his stuff.

Breath fogging the chilly air, they shoved their feet into rented hockey skates—no toe picks, thankfully. They also somehow passed the security guards’ sobriety screening and were soon clomping around the crowded rink. Jeremy took baby steps, his arms wide. This was such a terrible idea.

Yet when Max grinned at him, he grinned back. It was surely going to end with his ass hitting the ice again, but it was fun. He was having fun. Max was there, and if he fell, he wouldn’t be alone. His old glasses could have used a tightening and slipped down his nose too much. Jeremy was careful to keep pushing them up.