Page 39 of Deck the Fire Halls

Fuck.

“I’ll be here at four,” I said. “To help with the Christmas lights.”

But it was too late. He’d unlocked his door and disappeared inside, the porch light turning off a second later.

I stood there in the dark, wondering what the ever-loving fuck I’d just done.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ROB

“What doyou mean he said no?”

Hamish kind of yelled it, making a few of the kids in the center all stop and look over at where me, Gunter, and Hamish were standing by the pamphlet rack.

I’d brought in some more health pamphlets from the clinic and surprised myself by how easily I spilled my troubles.

I spoke in a much lower tone. “He said no,” I repeated. “He walked me home, I asked him if he wanted to come in, and he said no.”

They both stared at me. Gunter with sincerity. Hamish with possible anger? “The hell is wrong with him?”

Yep. Anger.

“He’s allowed to say no.” I shrugged. “I was so embarrassed. He tried to explain, I think. I don’t know. I was too horrified to hear it. I ran away.”

Hamish shoved the pamphlets into the rack, came over to me, and took my hand. “That man is into you. Hespent the entire night looking at you, and like Shakira said, the eyes don’t lie.”

“That was hips. Hips don’t lie,” Gunter said.

Hamish wasn’t deterred. “Someone said the eyes don’t lie. Who isn’t important. Whatisimportant is that man lied through his perfect teeth last night when he said no. He wants you. Everyone could see that. We all saw that, didn’t we?” He looked at Gunter for back up.

Gunter nodded and shrugged. “We thought so.”

“I thought so,” I admitted. “We talked and laughed the whole way home. He was so sweet. He held my arm as we walked, and he was so sweet. I thought...” I sighed. “I misread everything, obviously. I’m clearly out of practice.”

“You got no rizz,” one girl said. She was making herself a hot drink, was no more than fifteen years old, had green-and-blue hair, pink eye shadow, and dark lips. “Or he got no rizz.”

Hamish and I both stared at her. “I don’t know what that means,” Hamish said, then he looked at me. “I don’t know what that means.”

I shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I have no clue.”

“Charisma,” Gunter explained. “It means you got no charisma, or you lack the ability to charm or woo someone.”

Now both me and Hamish stared at Gunter. “Oh my god,” Hamish murmured, horrified. “How do you know that? How do I not know that?”

Gunter shrugged. “I had to get familiar. With the lingo.”

The girl rolled her eyes and half smiled. “We don’texpect you to know. You were born in the nineteen hundreds.”

Jesus.

Hamish clutched at his chest. “Ow.” Then he turned to Gunter, exasperated. “The nineteen hundreds? What is... how is...? Oh my god.” He gawped at the girl and gestured to his clothes. “I’m still cool. And on-trend. These jeans are a Japanese brand, I’ll have you know. I... I don’t know how to say it, but look at this label. A queer-owned Japanese brand.” He turned around to show her the label.

“That’s okay,” Gunter said, stopping Hamish before he could show her the label on the backside of his jeans.

On his backside.

The girl laughed and sipped her hot chocolate, which just seemed to exasperate Hamish even more.

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