12 Gays of Christmas: A Holigay Romance by D. K. Sutton

Author:D. K. Sutton [Sutton, D. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-11T16:00:00+00:00

DAY EIGHT: WEDNESDAY AND THE SERIOUS GUY OR, GIL, DON’T BANG OUR NEIGHBOR

DECEMBER 20

GIL

“I hate Christmas decorations.”

“No one asked for your opinion,” I say, waving my hand dismissively at Remi.

“You asked for my opinion when you banged on my door way too early.”

“It was noon. Get over it.” Tree limbs litter the floor of our apartment and Colin will be home in an hour. We don’t have time for Remi’s grumbling. “Why do they make this so hard?”

“For fuck’s sake. Give that to me.” He pulls the bottom thingy out of my hand and puts it together. “Where’s your tree skirt?”

“What?”

He stares at me with his mouth open. “How is it that I know more about this than you? And I’m Jewish. We don’t do trees. Or decorate like Santa and the elves threw up Christmas.”

I’m never in charge of decorations. And when I was old enough that I might have done them, my mom was off saving the world. “Never mind. I changed my mind. I don’t need you.”

Remi takes the artificial tree branch out of my hand and points to the box of decorations. “Sort those so we can decide which ones to use.”

I grumble but grab the box and make space on the floor. “How did you know where to find Colin’s decorations?”

After searching the boxes and finding the tree skirt, he quickly puts the tree together. He makes it seem easy. How am I so useless at this? At everything. I can’t put a tree together. Or even unvirgin myself. What the heck? “He always stores them in the same place.”

“I looked everywhere,” I say, and then his words catch up to me. “How do you know where he stores his stuff.”

“It’s a good thing you’re cute, big guy.” He stands and motions toward the tree, which now looks like a Christmas tree and not a pile of fake tree limbs. It isn’t big like the ones we had when Dad was still around. But it’s perfect for our apartment. Remi moved the table to the corner and put it there. It doesn’t even cover up the chalkboard. Too bad. I’m tired of looking at my failure written in chalk for all the world to see. When I put my hands on my hips and stare at him, he shakes his head. I’m not letting this go. The what-is-up-with-Remi-and-Colin mystery needs to be solved immediately. “Do you think he started being obsessed with Christmas after you moved in? Obviously, when we were roommates—”

“What?” My brain must be fried by the Christmas music and the scent of pine—not from the artificial tree but the candle burning in the kitchen that Remi insists we need to set the mood. It doesn’t make any sense. “You and Colin were roommates?”

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Remi look guilty or panicked. I’d enjoy it more if the circumstances were different. “He didn’t tell you? I was sure…” He scowls at me as if it is all my fault and points a finger at me.

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