Page 17 of Happy Krampus Xmas & the Meet Not Cute
“I’ll miss you.” I pat his chest.
“You mean you’ll miss my cock.”
“Always, so be ready to give it to me tonight, and take Wednesday out for a stroll if you come back earlier.”
“No,” Gabe simply states.
“I’ll do it.” Bez smiles at me, surely hoping to get me to ride him afterward. Quid pro quo—or as he calls it something for something—is his only MO.
“Thank you, love you both.”
“Behave. Don’t get Spencer in trouble.” Gabe slaps my bare arse before moving to the door.
“It could be the other way around,” I counter.
I hear a derisive snort as he leaves the room.
four
A Schadenfreude kind of bloke
“Hey, nutso!” Spencer drops a bag of chips and a banana on the coffee shop table. He looks young and delicate with his wavy dark red hair, cute freckles, and loose jeans hanging on his narrow hips, but he’s tough as nails. I can see it in his slightly crooked nose and light brown, almost yellow eyes. There’s a hardness there, a wariness his difficult past left there.
“Hey, you wank! Late to our appointment, that’s very cosmopolitan of you.”
“Sorry if I was being interviewed for a job at this café.” He huffs, pulling his red knit cap off his head.
“Sorry my plump butt cheeks.”
“Plump? Are we sure?” he mocks me. He always has a comeback ready for me.
“You little shite!” I grab my leather gloves from the table and swat his arm with them. My shoulder aches a bit, thanks to that fuckingfreefallin the maggot’s house.
“Little?” He tsks. “I’ll give you the number of the guy who begged me for round three a couple of days ago.”
“Please, I can tell when you’re lying,” I tease him. I know he can easily get hookups. His wicked smile can charm the pants—habit—off a nun. I saw him in action. And to think that when I met him he was a malnourished, lanky boy from a bad neighborhood. His clothes are still loose on him—that’s just a fashion choice now—he’s filled out quite nicely and has a newly confident air about him that makes me smile proudly. Not that I’d ever tell him that.
“You can’t tell shit,” he counters. “You look lugubrious, what gives?” He twists off the cap of his Coke to take a long sip.
“It’s eight in the bloody morning, give your stomach a chance to survive.” His love for everything soda will give him an ulcer one of these days.
I turn around the small café where other people are enjoying a hot drink with muffins or bagels. There’s a group of loud girls and hunky blokes on my left, a couple smiling at another table and a guy reading a book. The long counter and the windows are adorned in red garlands and green wreaths. The huge Santa Claus figure near the door keeps staring at me with that odious small smirk on his red, punchable face. I can’t stress enough how much I hate this time of the year.
Spencer’s hand lifting the banana in front of my face catches my attention. “Eat ass, Dad.”
“Mmmm. I had my fair share last night.” He winces hearing my satisfied tone. “You need to be less mean and more vicious, Spencer Dancer.” I quickly snatch the bag of chips from the table, avoiding his too-slow grabby hand.
“Assface!” he mutters, as I dangle the bag in front of his face and he once more fails to take it from me.
I open the bag with a loud crinkle and smirk at him as I start eating them. I already had my breakfast, this is just a midmorning snack for me, while I bet my new rhinestone jockstrap that Spencer didn’t eat anything yet.
“What have you been popping?” he grumbles, peeling his banana aggressively.
“Popping? Is that code? A cry for help?”
“God, you’re an idiot. I’ll tell Gabe what you did to that guy that was ogling him a week ago.” I ignore his long-suffering tone as I toss a chip inside my mouth. I had to scare off that bloke, he wanted what is mine.
“Petty police, I’m reporting my sadist of a friend.” I point at him as I dramatically look around.
