Page 26 of Must Love Christmas

The rain the clouds had promised began to fall, slapping Simon’s bare forehead with large, cold drops. He tried to pick up the pace, but his hamstrings protested, still a bit tight from lack of use this past week.

There’d been no further mention of…whatever it was between him and Garen, not since his flatmate’s confession Sunday afternoon, which Simon had since written off as feverish ravings.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted from this man. In Garen’s presence, Simon craved another go beneath the sheets, consequences be damned. But when they were apart, he just wanted peace of mind.

The rain turned steady and hard, so by the time he reached his building’s front entrance, he was soaked to the skin. Tomorrow he would join a gym for sure.

Entering the flat, Simon was greeted with the buoyant notes of—was that “A Holly Jolly Christmas”?

“There you are!” Garen said from the living room. “I was wondering where…” He trailed off, staring at Simon’s midriff.

Simon looked down to see his wet gray running shirt clinging to his skin, outlining every muscle. He could feel Garen’s gaze on him like a heat lamp.

“Are you playing Christmas carols already?”

“No.” Garen gave a quick cough. “I mean, yes, but not officially. I’m building this year’s playlists. It’s never too early.”

Isn’t it?Simon toed off his trabs, then pulled up the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. “Could you do that with earphones in while I’m around?”

“Right, I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” Garen glanced at Simon’s bare stomach, then looked away. “Though maybe you can help. I usually like to start with six or seven real bangers—get the blood flowing, you know—but this year I thought I’d switch to something more mellow by song four.”

Simon brushed a stream of cold water from his forearm, wondering how a Christmas carol could be, in any reasonable reality, a banger.

“What do you think?” Garen asked. “Two or three slower tracks before the playlist gets back to the real meaning of Christmas?”

“You mean Jesus?”

“I mean fun.”

Simon couldn’t give a flying flamingo about Christmas playlists, but he didn’t want to start a row by saying so. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Meantime, I’m dripping all over the place here. I’ll grab a towel to dry the floor.”

“That’s all right. Like I said, it’s not real…” Garen trailed off again as Simon tugged his shirt over his head on the way into the bathroom. “…hardwood.”

Quality exit there, Simon thought, giving himself a mental pat on the back.Let him think about what he’s missing.

Then he noticed something had changed about the bathroom. More than one something, in fact.

“Garen?” he called down the hall. “Where did you find Christmas-tree tissue boxes and hand soap on the third of November?”

“Oh, those.” Garen appeared round the corner from the living room. “I had extra last year, so I saved them. We were short of tissues after the flu, so…” He scuffed his feet against the hallway rug as he approached. “Is it okay?”

Simon’s body immediately responded to those three words, which Garen had uttered so breathlessly in his bed a few weeks ago. He turned away and grabbed his towel, which thankfully had not been replaced by one with a Christmas tree on it. “It’s sound,” he said, shutting the door between them.

After his shower, he cautiously opened the bathroom door to check for Garen, then hurried across the hall to his bedroom wearing the towel round his waist.

He stopped short just across threshold. “Well, hello.”

Poppy was fully visible for the first time since they’d moved house. The ball python was stretched out along the center of the glass vivarium, head poised above her ceramic water dish.

He dressed swiftly but quietly, then went to find Garen in the living room. “Poppy’s out of her hide. Want to meet her?” He put a finger to his lips.

Garen’s eyes widened, then he followed Simon to the bedroom.

The two of them had put his bed beneath the window so Poppy’s home could stand against an interior wall and be less subject to outdoor temperature changes. Though Garen had helped set up the vivarium, he’d yet to set eyes on the python, who was as shy as most of her species. In the eleven days since the move, Poppy had remained in one of her “hides” whenever either human was about. These two hollowed-out structures—one resembling a log and the other, a rock—were just big enough for a four-foot python to curl up in and feel safe.

Simon crouched beside the vivarium, bringing himself eye level with the snake. “Hey, baby.”

Garen let out a gasp. “Oh my God, she’s gorgeous,” he whispered.

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