Merry Cherry Christmas - Keira Andrews Page 0,18

more laps before returning the skates and grabbing cups of minty hot chocolate. A “Little Drummer Boy” mash-up filled the air, and Jeremy sipped the sweet, warm cocoa.

Max slung an arm over his shoulders. “This was a fun day.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy’s throat was suddenly thick. He wanted to thank Max for being so kind to him. For being—he hoped—a friend. But if he said anything more he might burst into tears, so Jeremy took another sip of his hot chocolate.

Flurries of snow increased as the temperature hovered around the freezing mark. A fluffy flake landed right on the end of Max’s nose, and Jeremy swiped it off with a laugh. He watched it melt on the end of his glove, wondering what the unique pattern would have looked like under a microscope. When he looked up, Max was watching him.

Their gazes locked, and Jeremy’s breath stuttered. Snowflakes drifted between them, and Max’s eyes dropped. He’d taken off his glove, and he brushed Jeremy’s bottom lip with a fingertip.

“Snowflake,” he murmured.

They watched it melt on Max’s finger.

Max cleared his throat. “So hey, you wanna go out tomorrow night? We need to get you laid, right?”

Jeremy could only nod and for a minute, he let his growing, undeniable crush on Max expand to fill every lonely corner of him, shining as brightly as the golden bulbs illuminating the night.

Chapter Four

The red couch sagged even lower as Honey flopped down next to Max, tilting him toward the middle. Eyes locked on the screen as his player scaled a wall while a bomb exploded in the distance, Max said, “Hey.” Gripping the controller, he swore under his breath as he jerked too late to avoid an ambush.

“You’re dead,” Honey noted.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Max tossed the controller on the cushion between them. “I should hit the gym.”

“It’s already three. Fuck it. Although you probably want to get in some last-minute curls before your date.”

Idly watching the game’s restart menu repeat on the screen, Max said, “Not going on a date. Told you I’m taking Jeremy out to the Village, remember?”

“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

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