Page 2 of Merry Little Mishap

I stuffed the dildo back into the box, on the verge of tears. I was always so painfully awkward, so self-conscious of every misstep as if the universe was hellbent on turning every interaction into a certain boobytrap.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed.

“Sorry about what?”

“This… I’m so?—”

“You’re so kind… that’s what you are,” he interrupted. “You’ve been so patient with me… Hell, you’ve been patient with that god-awful sink in your kitchen. I know it’s a hassle, especially in the midst of holiday chaos, and the last thing you need is me coming to your door and getting in your business…” His words slowed down, his voice mellow and deep as he peered down to meet my eyes. “I have time now, if you’d like me to come in?”

Nick.

My Christmas wish.

He was the saving grace to this old building; the man every single, and married, woman under this roof pined for, and he was much sweeter than any man I’d ever met. Yes, I felt like a fool around him, but I’d feel even more foolish if I didn’t let him stay longer, hopelessly fantasizing about what we could never be.

“Of course, come in,” I smiled, my dimples piercing my cheek. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“Cream, no sugar. Right?” I asked, remembering his coffee preference from the previous times he’d visited over the year.

“If it’s not a bother.” He cleared his throat, admiring my bright teal living room, my fake banana palms, and bohemian throws. “Love that you always keep those up.” He nodded to the white string lights draped above my yellow couch.

“I’m thinking about keeping them up all year round! They really brighten up the place, right?”

“I’m not sure it could get any brighter. It’s very cozy.”

“Well, it’s taken a while, but it’s finally starting to feel like home… sorta.” I shrugged, grabbing a nearby towel to wipe my face clean.

I walked into the kitchen, hiding my ruined package in the pink cabinet next to a box of fruity pebbles. Hopefully, Nick wouldn’t ask about it.

How could I explain that I was assigned my first paying gig with one of the biggest magazines in the world—New York Prestige—running a countdown list of the hottest sex toys of the season?Twelve Days of Sex-Mashad been as exhausting as it was thrilling, spending the last week getting off with various vibrators, Ben Wa balls, and butt plugs. I was surprised I was even walking straight at this point, and somehow calmly pouring Nick’s cup of coffee.

“Honestly, I like the whole tropical vibe in here.” Nick removed his denim jacket before lying down under the sink, chomping on a flashlight. His dark brown waves fell carelessly to his brows, his nose dimpled at the tip, mirroring the groove of his strong, peppered chin. “Marty won’t even go outside to piss anymore… not without mittens. I’m ready to pack up and leave.”

“Just don’t go too far, who knows what else will break in this place? Ineedyou.”

“Who’s to say I wouldn’t take you with me? I’m sure you know all the best places for the warmest weather.”

“Warmest beaches, too…” I inadvertently sipped his coffee, watching as his shirt lifted from his waist.

I tried really hard not to stare, fighting, resisting, struggling with the temptation to gawk as he revealed a trail of trimmed hair on his firm torso. He cranked something underneath the sink, his arms tensing as he grunted.

“Name one for me.”

“Name what?”

“A beach. Which one’s your favorite?”

“Ah,Playa Flamenco. It’s off the main island where I lived, but totally worth the trip if you can get a boat out there.”

Nick hummed to himself.

“Playa Flamenco,” he repeated my words. I couldn’t see his face, but I could hear him smile. “How blue is the water?”

“Turquoise-clear… plenty of white sand, and warm sunlight.”

Nick grew quiet, clanking a metal pipe.

“Sounds nice. But sounds even better coming from you.” He noted my accent, my slight Caribbean-Spanish hitch. I combed a curl behind my ear, blushing. “Shit…”

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