hopeful brown eyes. “Jeremy,” he began gently.
Jeremy sat up, scowling. “This is where you tell me I’m a child, isn’t it?”
“I remember what it’s like to finally figure it all out. The rush. Everything’s new and better than you’d thought it would be. It’s like a high. You want it to never stop. It’s easy to get caught up in it.”
“That’s not what this is about,” he insisted.
“I’m flattered. And obviously I’m not immune to you. But I’m also old enough to be your father.”
Jeremy squinted. “My dad is forty-three. How old are you?”
Erik laughed harshly; he covered his face with his hands. “Oh, man. It’s worse than I thought. Kid, I’m forty-nine. In six more months I’ll hit the big five-O.”
“Age is just a number.”
“Yeah, a pretty big number.”
Jeremy jumped out of the bed, clearly pissed off. He stalked across the room searching for his clothes. He was definitely sporting some impressive morning wood in his boy-short briefs. Erik was so tempted to call him back to bed.
“Look, I know this isn’t exactly a good time. And it’s easier for you to think of me as some dumb kid who doesn’t know what he wants.” He jammed his legs into his jeans and zipped up his fly angrily. “But just because you’re older doesn’t mean you know everything.” His last words were muffled as he drew his sweater over his head. When he reemerged, his hair stood up with static electricity. “One day you’re going to have to admit there is something here.”
He gaped at the irritated young man, wishing he didn’t sound so mature and reasonable. Then Jeremy ruined it by adding. “I have to go, or I’ll miss my first class. I’ll text you later.”
Erik pulled the blankets over his head and shut out the sound of the world.
ERIK
ON THANKSGIVING DAY, Erik was halfway through his Golden Girls marathon and a six-pack of Heineken when the doorbell rang. He bristled at the interruption, intending on ignoring it, but whoever it was seemed insistent on disturbing his peaceful afternoon.
Still grumbling (who went door-to-door on Thanksgiving?), he jerked open the door without even checking the sidelight and did a double-take when he found Jeremy on his front step. Or rather, on his way down it since he’d obviously given up and was about to leave. To Erik’s chagrin, that damned flutter in his stomach came back with a vengeance.
He hadn’t seen Jeremy since George’s funeral, but they had continued their email correspondence and occasional late-night phone call. Lately though, Jeremy had been busy with schoolwork and mid-terms, or so he said, and Erik had begun to wonder if he’d been forgotten. He’d wondered if Jeremy had finally come to his senses, and the thought had left him depressed and lonely.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were travelling home for the holidays.”
Jeremy shrugged. “Changed my mind. Can I come in?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He stepped back and let Jeremy into the house.
“What about you?” he asked. “No plans?”
“Some friends invited me over.”
Jeremy’s fingers froze on the zipper of his coat. “Oh.”
“But I turned them down. I wasn’t feeling like good company.”
“I guess I should have called first. Do you want me to leave?”
Erik took one look at that hopeful expression and knew he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Jeremy here. “No,” he admitted. The brilliant smile he received made him glad he’d been honest.
He took Jeremy’s coat and hung it up in the closet, but Jeremy held on to the small canvas shopping bag he carried. “What’s in the bag?”
“Something for later.”
He raised an eyebrow at the cryptic answer but decided not to make a big deal about it. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Everything okay at home?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“So tell me again why you’re here with me and not home enjoying a turkey dinner with your
Jeremy sat up, scowling. “This is where you tell me I’m a child, isn’t it?”
“I remember what it’s like to finally figure it all out. The rush. Everything’s new and better than you’d thought it would be. It’s like a high. You want it to never stop. It’s easy to get caught up in it.”
“That’s not what this is about,” he insisted.
“I’m flattered. And obviously I’m not immune to you. But I’m also old enough to be your father.”
Jeremy squinted. “My dad is forty-three. How old are you?”
Erik laughed harshly; he covered his face with his hands. “Oh, man. It’s worse than I thought. Kid, I’m forty-nine. In six more months I’ll hit the big five-O.”
“Age is just a number.”
“Yeah, a pretty big number.”
Jeremy jumped out of the bed, clearly pissed off. He stalked across the room searching for his clothes. He was definitely sporting some impressive morning wood in his boy-short briefs. Erik was so tempted to call him back to bed.
“Look, I know this isn’t exactly a good time. And it’s easier for you to think of me as some dumb kid who doesn’t know what he wants.” He jammed his legs into his jeans and zipped up his fly angrily. “But just because you’re older doesn’t mean you know everything.” His last words were muffled as he drew his sweater over his head. When he reemerged, his hair stood up with static electricity. “One day you’re going to have to admit there is something here.”
He gaped at the irritated young man, wishing he didn’t sound so mature and reasonable. Then Jeremy ruined it by adding. “I have to go, or I’ll miss my first class. I’ll text you later.”
Erik pulled the blankets over his head and shut out the sound of the world.
ERIK
ON THANKSGIVING DAY, Erik was halfway through his Golden Girls marathon and a six-pack of Heineken when the doorbell rang. He bristled at the interruption, intending on ignoring it, but whoever it was seemed insistent on disturbing his peaceful afternoon.
Still grumbling (who went door-to-door on Thanksgiving?), he jerked open the door without even checking the sidelight and did a double-take when he found Jeremy on his front step. Or rather, on his way down it since he’d obviously given up and was about to leave. To Erik’s chagrin, that damned flutter in his stomach came back with a vengeance.
He hadn’t seen Jeremy since George’s funeral, but they had continued their email correspondence and occasional late-night phone call. Lately though, Jeremy had been busy with schoolwork and mid-terms, or so he said, and Erik had begun to wonder if he’d been forgotten. He’d wondered if Jeremy had finally come to his senses, and the thought had left him depressed and lonely.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were travelling home for the holidays.”
Jeremy shrugged. “Changed my mind. Can I come in?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He stepped back and let Jeremy into the house.
“What about you?” he asked. “No plans?”
“Some friends invited me over.”
Jeremy’s fingers froze on the zipper of his coat. “Oh.”
“But I turned them down. I wasn’t feeling like good company.”
“I guess I should have called first. Do you want me to leave?”
Erik took one look at that hopeful expression and knew he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Jeremy here. “No,” he admitted. The brilliant smile he received made him glad he’d been honest.
He took Jeremy’s coat and hung it up in the closet, but Jeremy held on to the small canvas shopping bag he carried. “What’s in the bag?”
“Something for later.”
He raised an eyebrow at the cryptic answer but decided not to make a big deal about it. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Everything okay at home?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“So tell me again why you’re here with me and not home enjoying a turkey dinner with your
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