Tic-Tac-Mistletoe - N.R. Walker Page 0,38
can drive me. I’m not too keen on driving in the snow again, to be honest. And I should totally weigh up the comparisons on buying something versus calling an Uber every time I need to leave the house.”
“Well, I don’t know if Mossley even has an Uber. There used to be a taxi service, I think. Or a city bus. But I can teach you how to drive in the snow, if you want. You’ll be fine once you get the hang of it. And you managed to get yourself out of Missoula to here just fine.”
“Yes, but the stop at here was rather sudden. And it involved screaming. Mostly by me. Okay, one hundred per cent by me, but I thought you were a bear or a serial killer, so . . .”
“Or a serial-killer bear,” I added.
“Please, dear God, tell me they’re not a thing.”
I laughed. “As far as I know they’re not.”
“Thank God.” He bit into a peanut butter cookie and groaned. “Oh, these are good.”
I shoved a chocolate-mint one in my mouth to distract my mind from the way he groaned. “Mm, so are these.”
He sipped his drink. “And thank you for the offer to teach me how to drive in snow. You’re a brave man.”
“Nah. I’m just used to it. And believe me, you wouldn’t think I was brave if I saw a spider.”
“A spider?”
“Yep.” I shuddered. “I would be standing on a chair, screaming without shame.”
He laughed. “Well, you’re in luck. Spiders don’t bother me one bit.”
That didn’t surprise me, given Australia was apparently full of ridiculously large and lethal ones. “Anything you’re afraid of?”
“Ah, bears and serial killers. As clearly exhibited when you rescued me. With the crying and the screaming.”
I chuckled and bit into another cookie. “You’d had a rough day.”
He smiled at me, not looking away for a long moment. “Okay, so more on the gay talk,” he began. “Who is your celebrity crush?”
I snorted. “Uh, I don’t know . . .” I tried to think. “Adam Lambert?”
His eyes lit up. “Ooooh, great choice. When you were a kid, who did you crush on? Celebrity or normal person?”
“Well, every guy on Baywatch, and Jared Leto in Camp Wilder was a wake-up call.”
Hamish laughed. “I bet he was. Okay, so first boyfriend?”
I made a face. “A guy by the name of Luke Haynes. Lasted maybe six months.”
“Was he an arsehole?” Hamish asked, concerned.
“Nah, he just wanted me to leave Hartbridge. Told me I was too small-town for him.”
“Oh, fuck that, and fuck him.”
That made me laugh. “I did . . . I mean, not fuck him . . . well, I . . . God. I mean, I broke up with him.”
Hamish burst out laughing. “Oh, I see. And now that you’ve brought that up. First sexual encounter?”
“Carter Campion. High school senior quarterback.”
“No way!”
I laughed. “Oh yeah, a few of the football boys were up for it. Our team was very . . . close.”
He cracked up. “You were on the team with them?”
“Yep. Those locker room showers are where we’ll find some of my fondest high school memories.”
He wiggled in his seat a little. “Oh, I love that. But wait, I thought you said you were the only gay kid in Hartbridge.”
“Well, the only one who was out. They all moved away for college, and the only one I ever saw again was Carter. He came back a few years ago with his pretty wife and pretty kids when his great-aunt passed away. He came by the store just before closing time and asked if I wanted to hook up. Said he thought about what we did a lot, and sometimes he wished he was braver, but he could never live that life.”
Hamish flinched. “Ouch.”
“Yeah.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him to go back to his wife. I told him I wasn’t some dirty secret; I wasn’t going to be part of anything he had to lie about. And I most definitely wasn’t going to help him cheat on his wife.” I shook my head. “I mean, that sucks for him and I’m sorry he feels trapped, but that just ain’t for me. I walked him to the door, told him if he ever wanted some advice on being out and how to adjust, or if he just wanted to talk, then he could give me a call. I felt bad, but . . .”
“You did the right thing. Did you ever see him again?”
“Nope.”
“Do you think about him?”
I laughed. “Nope.