Page 42 of Winter Break Up

Except the minute we pull out of my parent’s neighborhood and onto one of the main roads in town, other golf carts drive around us until we’re in a sea of them heading for the lights display. As far as traditions go, this is one of Queenwood’s biggest, and I’ve always adored it.

One of his big hands is on the steering wheel, while the other rests on my thigh. The wind whips past us as we drive down familiar streets marked with memories, and I cover his gloved hand.

“I hope they have the Peanuts display up.” I smile, remembering my favorite lights from our youth.

“You always loved Snoopy in that one.” Mercer’s grin shines in the moonlight.

Families on the streets that go all out always have themes from our favorite nostalgic kid shows to young adult fantasy renderings of the holiday magic. There’s a house that goes full Clark Griswold, and another that trusses up their house like a real-life Hansel and Gretel’s cottage. It’s a sight to behold, and especially as children, brought so much wonder and magic to the season.

Now, it’s just a fun way to melt into Christmas. And for many of my peers, get drunk with our high school classmates on other people’s lawns. I planned on drinking tonight, at least a little hot toddy or something. But with Charlie sick and Mercer by my side, I don’t feel much like supplementing my mood with alcohol.

If tonight is the only “date” I get from our winter fling, I am seeing it all through sober eyes.

Mercer parks the golf cart a ways out, the streets lined with them, and we walk hand in hand up to the streets, already emitting a beautiful glow. One thing I’ve always loved about us is that there isn’t this pressure to fill the silence with talk. Even though we’ve been apart for a number of years, we discover things organically about each other. Our time spent on the farm has caught me up to everything that’s been going on in Mercer’s life, and I don’t feel the need to babble around him just because.

When my gaze swings to him, he’s watching me with a small smile ghosting his lips.

“I’m glad you decided to come with me.”

His mood is infectious, making my lips turn up in a grin. “Me too.”

For the next twenty minutes, we walk the streets with the crowds, oohing and aahing over the ornate decorations and magnificent lights. Mercer and I wave to some of the residents we know but generally keep to ourselves, and I revel in the one-on-one time I’m getting with him out in public.

Until, of course, we run into a couple of idiots from our graduating class.

“Well, if it isn’t the two high school lovebirds,” a mocking voice starts at our backs, and I don’t miss the way Mercer steps in front of me just an inch when we turn around, as if he’s protecting me.

Clyde McGibbon stands before us with two of his brothers, three of his cousins, and a couple girls who hang on to them. They’re openly drinking from beer bottles even though there are cops all over this lights display.

“Clyde.” Mercer nods, and I notice he doesn’t tack on that it’s nice to see our high school classmate.

“I didn’t realize you two still messed around,” a voice comes from the back of the group, and I think it’s one of the girls.

She’s slightly familiar and, from the slur of her voice, is definitely drunk. The alcohol is clearly emboldening this group tonight.

“Have a nice night.” Mercer’s hand is on the small of my back as he tries to turn us.

This group of people doesn’t have any right to know our business, nor are we really friends with any of them. Clyde is a dick on his best day, and I can tell Mercer wants nothing to do with dealing with him at this point.

“Not so fast, bro. Have a drink with us. This thing is lame, but it’s the only thing going on tonight, so why not get a little toasted under the lights.” Clyde wiggles his eyebrows as he points to the cooler on the back of their golf cart.

“We just came for the tradition of it,” I explain, trying to inch away from them.

My body has always been in tune with Mercer’s, try as I might to disentangle our soul-deep connection. So I know that not only is he uncomfortable, but he’s downright cringing at standing in Clyde’s presence. It’s been a while since he’s had to deal with some of the more obnoxious characters from our youth.

“Like I said, have a good night. Emily and I are just here to see the lights and now we’re going.”

“Back to your place? Charlie know about this starting up again?” One of Clyde’s cousins has a horrific smirk on his face.

They’re trying to make the threats come off as jokes, and I’m not sure if this is to intimidate us about the tree-off that Clyde has already thrown in Mercer’s face or if they’re just that stupid to fuck around about this.

“You’re going to want to cut it out, guys. There are families everywhere, the cops are crawling, and I wouldn’t want to give them an excuse to look in your direction,” Mercer fires back with a threat of his own.

“What do you care about this place, anyway, huh? You’re living the life in Miami.” Clyde scoffs.

Mercer squeezes my hand, and it’s becoming clearer why Clyde is starting shit. He’s always been jealous of Mercer, but the closer he gets to the pros, the more it must chafe Clyde’s ass.

“Come on, Russell, it isn’t like you’re gonna end up with the chick you fucked in high school. You’re going pro, man. You can have any model or influencer you want. So much fresh snatch out there, you don’t have to settle for Emily Palmer.”

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