I don’t want to assume he doesn’t have anything better to do than babysit me.
Matthias
I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t. I’ll be waiting.
Shit. I remember to send a thank you message beforeI rummage through my closet for something nicer to wear. Our family events are loungewear casual. I didn’t bother changing out of my pajama pants this morning, enjoying a day of relaxation. That won’t cut it now. Going to someone’s house for Thanksgiving—after Thanksgiving?—feels formal.
Sadly, I have zero formal attire. Something to work on after the holidays. Or when I win the lottery. The closest I can come is a pair of black jeans and a grey button-up. All of it is slightly too tight, stretching over my muscles. There were times years ago when I would’ve killed for this problem. Now, I wish I had something that didn’t feel so confining. I do my best to situate the fabric so the buttons don’t gap. A final glance in the mirror and attempt to tame some of my hair fails, so I forget about it and head up to the kitchen.
“I’m going out.” I holler into the living room. If I’m lucky, I’ll make it to the front door before anyone can reply.
“But what about our movie?” my mom calls after me. If they want me here so badly, all they need to do is act like it. It’s not worth sticking around simply because it’s tradition.
“I’m going to watch one with some friends.” Well, a friend. Friendish? Maybe we can work on a definition.
I hear some mumbling but ignore it in favor of making a beeline for the car. The sooner I’m out of here, the sooner I’m with Matthias.
MATTHIAS
I don’t know what possessed me to invite Frank over tonight. My family treats holidays with an open-door policy.If I thought for one minute that he needed a place to go, he would have spent the day at my parents’ house, seated right next to me.
Over the years, many of my friends, acquaintances, dates, and business associates have held that spot. My parents taught me from a young age that we should open our doors to those who are less fortunate. I don’t recall a single Thanksgiving or Christmas when someone didn’t join us. Some came once, and I never heard their name again. Some, like Aaron, came often and were basically family.
After a long day at my parents’ house, tonight would normally be spent alone, decompressing. Once January rolls around, things pick up at work. While others might focus on year-end goals or preparing for the holidays, the downtime between Thanksgiving and the New Year is an opportunity for me to get my life in order and rest.
When Frank’s text came through, I couldhearthe way he’d sayfine. In that tone that makes it clear that the situation is anything but. His family isn’t the most warm and fuzzy from what he’s told me, but I’m angry that his holiday is ruined. Especially when I know he could use the break to recover before finals.
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. He usually lets himself in, so I wait a moment. When I don’t hear anything, I get up from my spot on the couch.
“Hey,” I say, answering the door to find him standing on my front porch.
“Thanks for inviting me over.”
“Anytime. Come on in.” He strips off his jacket and hangs in on one of the wall pegs. All my energy goes into not laughing at his attire. Frank’s typically in either workclothes or casual wear. Today, he’s wearing the fanciest thing I’ve seen on him. He looks ready for a business dinner rather than a casual hangout.
“You’re in sweats,” he says, looking me up and down, his gaze lingering a little longer than necessary.
“I am. It’s the end of the day, so I thought we could relax.” My father insists that we all dress up for holidays. I wear enough suits and ties on a day-to-day basis. Given the option at home, I much prefer casual clothes. Now that I think about it, I’ve been avoiding changing into my sweats until after Frank leaves each night.
“Shit.” I get the impression that this outfit is not what he wore all day. He stares down at his black pants, wiping his hands on the fabric. Those things are nearly painted on him, making him look even more muscular than usual. If he went to a club like that, he’d be snatched up in a second. Even thinking about someone else getting to him first sets off my inner alarms.
Stupid since he’s not mine. “Do you want to borrow some clothes?” Though clearly I’m doing a fantastic job of not claiming him, given that I’m nearly giddy at the idea of seeing him walk around dressed in my clothing.
“Could I?”
“Of course, come with me.” I lead him through the house to my bedroom. It’s only once we’re inside and I’m rummaging through the dresser that I realize what I’ve done. Frank’s in my bedroom. I swallow hard and turn to look at him. He’s standing right in front of my bed, arms crossed over his chest. In all the time he’s spent here, I’ve been careful to keep him out of my private space, except for when he was half frozen. Now that he’s here, it’s easy to picture him sprawled out on the duvet, body open and waiting.
I clear my throat. “These will be a little big, but they’ve got a drawstring.” I hand him a pair of joggers and a top. “You can change in there.” I point toward the en-suite bathroom.
His hand grazes mine as he grabs the pile from me, and I swear there’s electricity between us. As he heads to the bathroom, he looks back over his shoulder.
Did he feel it, too? For a moment, I swear I can see the same thoughts running through his head, but it’s over far too quickly as he ducks behind the door. As soon as I hear it latch, I let out a big sigh and run my hand through my hair.Fuck. I’m really doing a piss poor job of handling things tonight. Bringing him to my room, dressing him in my clothes, having him change in my space? It’s too much and not enough at the same time. Either I need to make him mine or cut my losses before my heart is overly involved.
I’m not sure what the right answer is, but I know I’m not going to find it staring at the bathroom door. “I’ll be in the living room,” I call out, not wanting to be here when he comes out.
There’s plenty to busy myself with, and I figure there are better things to help with a long day like a relaxing movie. With snacks, of course. I get out a bunch of options, not knowing exactly what he’ll be in the mood for. Now for the movie options. Personally, I tend to go for hardcore action movies on rough days, the ones where there’s more explosions than dialogue. It’s a safe bet, so I scroll through the listings looking for something mindless.
“Thanks, these are much better.”
