right pec, he licked under it before kissing and taking my nipple between his teeth, gently teasing. Then he moved up to my mouth and claimed it with just as much enthusiasm. I grabbed the back of his head, pulling him close as I embraced that familiar taste. He pressed his body against mine, warming the cool sensation of the air against the saliva he’d left across me.
We kissed until it was too exhausting to keep going, until we just had our lips close, breathing into each other’s mouths, gazing into each other’s eyes.
We didn’t speak, but it was the loudest, most beautiful silence, complemented by every breath, every slight shift on the bed, every time our lips touched.
“Mr. Warner…”
“Yes, Mr. Forsythe?”
I laughed—no, giggled—before he kissed me again. As soon as he freed my lips, I went on, “I think this is my favorite extra-credit assignment.”
“You dirty boy. If I thought you needed to improve your grade, I’d be worried about you using me for an A.”
“Pretty sure there needs to be a plus after that A.”
“I haven’t graded the finals yet, so I don’t know.”
“Oh, naughty teach. You need to get those grades in for our report cards.”
“If someone doesn’t spend the break distracting me, I’ll be able to do that.”
“If I’m not distracting you, then I’m not doing my job.”
As I smiled, he said, “You’ll need a break eventually, and I figured I’d get those in tonight.”
“I think you underestimate my stamina.”
“That just makes me more determined to test it.”
We did just that through the afternoon, and as the evening approached, I agreed to make dinner while he finished keying in the grades to the system. He was finished with grades around the same time as I was finishing up with dinner, plating the food.
“It sure does smell damn good,” he said.
“Don’t come over here. Sit down and let me finish playing wifey.”
He obeyed, and I prepped our plates before heading over and setting them down in our usual spots, privately enjoying that we’d crafted a routine since we’d begun seeing each other regularly.
“Ooh, meatballs.”
“It’s ground-chicken meatballs. Better for you. With some spaghetti. Oh, let me get the parmesan.”
“I don’t think I have any.”
“Pfft. I got some while I was on my route the other day. I’m no amateur.” I fetched it from the fridge and handed it to him. “So what are our Christmas plans?” I pressed.
“Besides the obvious?”
“I noticed you don’t have a tree up or anything. We’ll have to fix that.”
“I was figuring I would skip that part.”
“Fuck no. You need to get a tree. This year more than ever. What the fuck else are we gonna make time for if not to decorate a little, watch some stupid Christmas movies on Netflix, enjoy some songs. What did your family use to do for Christmas when you were growing up?”
“My parents were very religious, so we did all the things you’d expect. The big production of it, and me and my brother would feel so guilty because we couldn’t get to sleep and we were told if we didn’t go to sleep, Santa wouldn’t come.”
“Mom would go all out for Christmas too. You know, looking back, things like that still confuse me. Because she did do everything she could. She adored me, but her love was always contingent on my playing by their rules. But it was nice. We talked about going to Atlanta and the Botanical Gardens. Mom would always want to go there, and she’d show me the lights, but Dad would always be in a mood, ya know?”
“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have been treated that way.”
“We all should have been treated better by a lot of people, but that’s not really how life works, is it?”
I wondered if the expression he made had to do with his brother, or Sheila, or some combination of so many things in his life, still many I’d yet to discover about him.
“I guess I’ll have to at least buy some extra lights for this tree too, then,” James went on.
“You don’t have lights?”
“I’ll have to check the lights in my boxes of crap, make sure they still work, but I like the idea of a Christmas in my new home.”
“I’m glad to be here for your new beginning.”
“I can toast to that.”
We raised our glasses and clinked them together.
Because this was just our fucking beginning…
34
James
Criminal. Villain. Monster. Those were words that came to mind when I thought about what Kyle and I did.