Page 92 of Must Love Christmas

“That’s what rehab does.” Simon held back a laugh as Garen swirled the brush over his abs. He was relieved his hyperesthesia had subsided this week, so that the light strokes didn’t hurt. “Before that, I never really thought about all these muscles. As a runner, I did the bare minimum of strength training just to prevent injuries. Running was the only exercise I really loved.”

“Why do you love it?”

Simon appreciated Garen using present tense. “A lot of runners talk about pushing past your limits or the adrenaline rush of competing in a race. But for me it’s simpler: I just really like feeling my feet hit the ground, my legs folding and unfolding.” He flexed his ankles in turn, recalling what it was like. “Running is so pure—no fancy equipment, no rules, no maneuvers. It’s just me and the ground and sometimes the wind.”

“Always the wind here in Scotland.” Garen dabbed his brush into the bowl of pink icing.

“What about you?” Simon ran his hand over Garen’s thigh. “You’ve got some serious quads, and your back and arms are pretty ripped. Is that all from curling?”

“More likeforcurling.” Garen started drawing what looked like a cartoon heart over Simon’s actual one. “We use our quads to burst out of the hack. The faster you can slide, the harder you can throw. And we use our upper body to sweep, obviously. So I lift weights to develop all those muscles, and I do interval training for cardio stamina.”

Simon remembered how out of breath he and his fellow newbie curlers had been after sweeping a stone all the way down the sheet. “And then there’s your flexibility, which I’m keen to explore more of.”

“I bet you are.”

Simon folded his hands behind his head so he could see Garen’s work without straining his neck. The whorls of blue, pink, and green over his chest and abs were like an impressionist’s painting. “If I’d not deleted my Grindr account last year, this would be the perfect profile pic.”

Garen paused to examine his work. “What made you delete your account? Not that I’m judging—I deleted mine ages ago. The curling community’s chockablock with men who fancy men, so I’d no real need for a dating app.” He tittered. “Funny story: One of the reasons I invited you to try curling was so you could meet guys.”

“I’m glad I didn’t know that at the time, or I would’ve been even more nervous.” Simon remembered Garen had asked him a question before starting his mini-monologue. “I deleted my account because I wasn’t using it much. I guess I was too scared to risk rejection.”

Garen tapped his paintbrush against his chin and smiled. “Now I know why you like me: because I’m so obvious about how much I fancy you.”

“Not the only reason.” Simon held his breath as Garen swept the brush in a long arc beneath his ribs. “But it’s true you don’t play games.”

“Honesty is much easier to manage, cognitively speaking.” Garen dropped the brush into the bowl of blue icing. “That’s me finished with you. Let me take a few pics before you sit up.”

“Keep it above my waist so it’s family-friendly.”

“There is nothing family-friendly about this endeavor. Now smile.” Garen took several photos, then set his phone on his bedside table before lying down on his back. “My turn to play canvas.”

Simon picked up the green icing and took a moment to examine Garen, studying the contrast between his pert nose and his strong, square jaw. “You’ve got the most amazing face.”

“How?”

“Dunno. It’s just so real-looking.”

“So ordinary,” Garen said.

“No. I mean, it should be. But it’s beautiful. Like, in a way no other face is beautiful. You don’t look like anyone else.” He painted an undulating line crossing over Garen’s collarbone like a radio wave. “If you cut your hair, your face would probably stop traffic.”

“You want me to cut my hair?”

“No!” Simon cleared his throat, embarrassed at his commanding tone. “Unless you want to.”

Garen picked up one of his sandy locks and studied it. “I thought maybe after I turned twenty-six I would start wearing it short. Time to grow up, you know? But my hair’s kind of who I am now.” He gave Simon a saucy smile. “Besides, I like the way you pull it.”

“Can’t help myself. It’s just so tuggable.” Simon added a contour line of yellow above the green one he’d just drawn.

Garen gazed up at him. “You know what’s best about your face? In my opinion, of course.”

“What’s that?” Simon asked, trying not to tense at the answer.

“The way you sometimes smile with your eyes when you’re not smiling with your mouth. Like you don’t want to admit you’re pleased or amused or utterly charmed.”

“By you, you mean.”

“Usually,” Garen said. “It’s cute how hard the rest of your face resists your feelings. But your eyes always give them away.”

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