Page 11 of Decorated

Blaine had taken five of the outlandish, commemorative glass ornaments from the tree display in his attempt to make certain nothing was made in China. Alfie had a hard time keeping his laugh inside as Blaine sheepishly put them all back.

Alfie’s laughter vanished once they made it to the till and saw the price for the ornaments.

“You’ve got to be joking,” he said as Blaine pulled out a credit card.

“I never joke about money,” Blaine said with a straight face.

Alfie huffed. “I suppose the Hawthorne family has more than enough of it.”

He was joking, but Blaine’s mirth fell. “Actually, they don’t have very much,” he said. “Uncle Robert nearly lost Hawthorne House last summer when an entertainment company tried to buy it for development. We’re all lucky that The Brotherhood came along and saved our bacon with some timely donations.”

Alfie had heard of The Brotherhood, but that was about it.

“Then why are you spending a small fortune on Christmas ornaments from a place like this when you could just get them at a discount store?” he asked.

He regretted the question almost at once.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t be spending money like this,” Blaine said, looking downright haunted.

It was too late, though. The transaction was complete, Alfie had taken the bags off the counter and had them hanging from his arms, and they were heading for the door already.

“You can always return them,” Alfie suggested. “As long as you don’t open the packages. At least, that’s what Mum always told me.”

They’d had to return a lot of things they’d bought at Christmastime when he was young in order to buy food and pay the rent.

“This is my problem,” Blaine said with a sigh as they headed down the street toward where they’d parked. “I’m rubbish when it comes to money. And men. I’m absolutely rubbish with men, too. That’s what’s gotten me into most of the scrapes I’m in now.”

“You’re in more than one scrape?” Alfie asked, trying to be funny. “At Christmas?”

“Christmas is the worst time for scrapes,” Blaine said, not quite catching the joke.

“I thought it was your favorite time of year,” Alfie said.

“Oh, it is. But that’s why I always seem to get into trouble.”

“With money or men?”

Blaine sent him a mournful look. “With both.” He was silent for a few more steps as they walked on, avoiding other shoppers and the inexplicably ever-present sounds of carols filling the air. Then he suddenly blurted, “Look, you should know that I have a long and checkered dating history.”

“Do you?” Alfie asked, grinning. He definitely wanted to hear about the whole thing.

“Yes,” Blaine said. “I fall in love instantly, get carried away on the feeling, throw myself at the guy, and only after the fact do I realize I really just wanted to get laid and I don’t actually like the guy much. And they don’t really like me.”

It took all of Alfie’s self-control not to snort with laughter. Blaine was just like him in the libido department, though he definitely didn’t fancy himself in love when he dipped his toe in sexy waters. He wasn’t as keen on the way Blaine put himself down, though.

He couldn’t resist the urge to tease Blaine a little more by asking, “And you feel this is something I need to know?”

“Yes, well—” Blaine started out easily, then nearly choked as he realized what he’d said. “Oh God, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I wasn’t coming onto you or anything. Not that you’re not exactly my type. You are. You so are. I would absolutely come on to you if we were at a pub or a club and you were gay.” He gasped, then groaned. “You see? This is why I’ve ended up with more ex-boyfriends than I can count.”

Alfie was completely charmed, even though everything that came out of Blaine’s mouth was, arguably, embarrassing as hell. Hadn’t he picked up on all the flirting? He couldn’t possibly think he was straight after all that.

He was about to say something else designed to throw Blaine off and cause him to say something silly when they turned a corner and Blaine stopped cold. He made a panicked sound just as a man who was walking towards them, hands in his coat pockets, face hunkered into a scarf for warmth, glanced up at them.

“Blaine?” the man asked, blinking in surprise.

“Oh. Charlie, hi,” Blaine said in return, then leaned towards Alfie. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting a little Christmas shopping done,” the man, Charlie said. He brightened at the sight of Blaine, but not in a way Alfie liked. “And you?”

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