Just Like Scrooge

Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

Eternal Press www.eternalpress.com.au

Copyright ©2007 by Eternal Press First published in 2007, 2007 NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

CONTENTS Just Like Scrooge Dedication About the Author ****

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Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

Just Like Scrooge Laughing, he placed a hand on New Guy's shoulder then leaned forward and lightly kissed him on the mouth. My heart stopped, though the scene continued to roll. It was Jacob. Slim, good-looking Jacob wrapped in an expensive new coat, looking taller and leaner and with a sharper haircut than I'd ever seen. Jacob, handing New Guy his bag to hold, and taking the letters in return from him. My Jacob, smiling at the blond man as if they were on such friendly terms that they browsed each other's mail, and went shopping together. Very friendly terms. The pain was so sharp that I felt wrenched in two. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

Just Like Scrooge © 2007 by Clare London All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic of mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental. An Eternal Press Production Eternal Press Wangaratta, Victoria, Australia, 3677 To order additional copies of this book, contact: www. eternalpress.com.au Cover Art © 2007 by Julie D'Arcy 5

Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

Edited by Ginger Simpson & Deborah Nemeth Book Production by Julie D'Arcy First Edition * November 2007 Production by Eternal Press Printed in Australia and The United States of America. [Back to Table of Contents]

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Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

Just Like Scrooge Clare London ****

**** [Back to Table of Contents]

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Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

Dedication ~ To my own Mistletoe Man, and Season's Greetings to my readers ~ [Back to Table of Contents]

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Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

The music at Harry's party was too loud, too distorted, too corny, too ... everything. Fruit punch had been spilled on the carpet, and my shoes kept sticking to it. Someone had sprayed fake snow on the walls, as well as the windows, and every time I got herded around the room, it rubbed off on my best shirt. Then a couple of Harry's friends from work lurched past me, jabbing me in the ribs with a conical party hooter and waving a handful of streamers all over me. As they passed on with half-mumbled apologies, I glanced down at the drink in my hand. Stray glitter floated on the surface of it, winking gleefully at me. I sighed. I mean, it was a fun party, and Harry was an excellent host, but I was struggling with the Christmas spirit this year. The season didn't hold the best of memories for me. It seemed to be a lot of overindulgent, over-commercialized nonsense, with people drinking to excess and spending too much money, and all in the dubious name of...? "Having fun?" Harry bumped up against me, breathless and laughing. "Where's Jacob?" I frowned. "He's over by the tree ... and by the way, what possessed you to buy such a monstrous evergreen? You need aircraft warning lights on those top branches." Harry laughed, unfazed by my sarcasm. "Yes, it was the largest they had! No point in doing things by half, eh, Ben? It's Christmas in a few days' time, the very best time of the year!" His soft, fair hair was plastered on his forehead with sweat, and his cheeks were flushed with the effect of drink. Maybe the fact that Matt had appeared behind him and 9

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slipped an arm around his waist had something to do with it, too. He looked happy, though. They both did. This would be the third Christmas they'd spent together, and judging by their relaxed, uninhibited devotion, I reckoned they'd be celebrating plenty more in the future. Matt grinned at me over Harry's shoulder, his face also a little flushed. Hell, he was usually the more sensible one of the partnership, but the Christmas spirit had obviously dug its claws into him, too. "Hi Ben. Where's Jacob?" I grumbled. Was that all anyone could think to ask me? "He's helping Amy with the decorations." "Plenty of mistletoe, right?" Harry gave a large, theatrical wink, then yelped as Matt pinched his ass. I rolled my eyes, grinning at the pair of them. I glanced across the room at the other familiar faces in the crowd, including Amy, Matt's sister, reaching up on her toes to put some garlands on the tree. She'd brought her new guy with her tonight, and we'd only just been introduced. I'd been persuaded not to judge him solely on the fact that he'd stepped on my toes and swiped his slice of pizza down my pants—twice. That was what Christmas was all about, apparently. There was another tall young man with them, describing something amusing to everyone gathered around the tree, making them all laugh. I hadn't been introduced to him yet. He was well built and handsome in that cool, blond, sculpted kind of way. Great, I suppose, if that's your type. He didn't seem that interested in Amy or her boyfriend, apart from telling his joke. Instead, his attention centered on 10

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another guy who crouched under the tree, engrossed in unraveling some tangled streamers around its base. And that man was Jacob, of course, slim, dark-haired, looking good in smart denim pants and an open-necked shirt. Amy was laughing at him and pointing to the top of his head, until he relented and let her brush the stray glitter out of his shaggy hair. It didn't seem to bother him much. As I continued to stare, Jacob turned and looked back at me. It was as though he'd felt my gaze from across the room. He stood up slowly and held out something in his palm. It was a bunch of mistletoe, the white berries milky against the green leaves. He grinned—a strange combination of ruefulness and mischief—and kept his eyes fixed on me. For that second, I forgot Harry, my friends, and the noisy chatter and clamor around me. The only thing I was conscious of was Jacob's smile, and I smiled back. This was what Christmas was all about. A bunch of girls in the kitchen launched into the third chorus of last year's number one Christmas hit. They hadn't recalled the verse yet, but I guessed I should be grateful for small mercies. Behind me, Matt touched my shoulder and I turned back, welcoming him as another small oasis of sense amongst the drunken revelers. "What's up?" I laughed, though it sounded false, even to me. "I don't understand you." He peered at me, looking genuinely concerned. In the background, someone shouted into their cell phone in frustration, trying to call a friend over the noise. I heard a 11

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wave of laughter and a splash as yet another glass of punch spilled. "I don't understand either of you." Matt raised his voice over the din, glancing over at the tree, then back at me. "Last Christmas I thought you and Jacob were getting together. But since then, nothing's moved on..." "What about it?" I snapped. He winced and I felt guilty, knowing he was only trying to be a good friend. "Everything's good between us, just as we are. We're the best of friends. It suits us fine." Matt's expression looked pained. "But for how much longer?" "Huh?" Someone turned the music up louder, making any reply challenging. Sleigh bells warred with a heavy drumbeat, and neither side was taking prisoners. "Look, Matt, I'm not rushing into anything like that. Romance caused me a bunch of trouble last time." Matt shook his head. "You can't go any slower, Ben, you'll stall. And Jacob's not like that." You should know that, was the unspoken reproach. "But he won't wait forever." There was another loud burst of laughter from the guests, forcing me to read Matt's lips. "Go to him. That's what he's hoping for." "Matt..." I frowned. "Back off, okay? It's not like that. We're not like that. You know?" "No," he said, bending close to my ear, his tone strangely sad. "No, I don't." **** 12

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Jacob found me a half hour later, sitting on the stairs in the hallway. He was smiling gently and I wondered if that blond Adonis-like guest had been telling another joke. When he caught my eye, his smile broadened into genuine pleasure, and he lifted his hand in greeting. I nodded and smiled back. It was so easily done, even though I'd been lost in my own thoughts until then. Jacob had that cheering effect on me. "You're going?" He gestured at the coat folded over my knees. I shrugged. In the kitchen, we heard the shriek of a party popper going off, then someone's shrill voice demanding to know who dropped their damned shoe in the damned punch bowl, and another voice calling for volunteers for a dance routine on the kitchen table. Jacob ran a hand through his tousled hair and grimaced. "Yeah, right, I see what you mean. Good time for a strategic retreat. You can share my cab. Better still, we could go on to my place for coffee—" "The cab is good for me," I interrupted. He flushed. "Why do you always do that, Ben? Push me away?" When I didn't answer, he frowned. "I know you don't want to talk about it. You've told us that plenty of times. Your break-up last year was hell for you, but I don't see why you can't think about moving on," "He ... I trusted him." My voice sounded muffled amongst the celebrations going on around us, but I knew Jacob heard me clearly enough. "You all told me he was a liar and a cheat, and guess what, you were right." 13

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"We didn't like doing that," Jacob said, sharply, though his eyes were gentler. "Telling tales. But we heard things about him you needed to know. You think we wanted you hurt? You think I wanted it?" "No," I protested. "I know, I didn't mean that. That's what friends do—I appreciated it. But it all made me feel like I'd messed up yet again. Just another bad date; another short, sour disaster; one more spoiled page in my scrapbook of romance." I laughed, a brittle sound. "It's just..." "It's just..." He echoed. "Yeah, it's always 'just'." He sighed, dropping his gaze from mine. His fingers played aimlessly with the bottom of his shirt. I got up and stepped down a couple of stairs so that I stood only a few inches away from him. His shoulder nudged mine, and I smelled his cologne, sharp and musky. A stray lock of his hair brushed against the edge of my jaw. I knew suddenly how his skin would taste on my tongue. The tang of saliva stirred in my mouth. His gaze snapped up to meet mine. "Ben..." It was only a whisper, but that single word sounded full of longing. He looked uncharacteristically nervous, and I wanted to say something—to try to explain things I didn't really understand myself—but he never gave me the chance. He took my arm and pulled me back into the shadows at the foot of the stairs, then slid a hand around the back of my neck and tugged me closer. Then he kissed me. His lips were warm and tasted of fruit punch, but only for a second. Then they tasted of him, and only him—a rich and heady flavor. I savored something far more delicious than any 14

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alcohol. I'd tasted him once before—I'd dreamt of it many times since. As his tongue teased at me, I opened my mouth and welcomed his kiss. Suddenly my memories were fresh and focused solely on this evening. I wanted to laugh aloud. I knew what happiness felt like—what it tasted like. A moan escaped my lips, and I pulled away from him. It wasn't for me. Jacob gasped, his pupils widening. A couple of people stared at us, curious at the tryst but tolerant of the outrageous things people did at parties, especially at Harry's. "Ben, I'm sorry, I thought you wouldn't mind.... "His voice was hoarse. He nodded at the wall by the stairs, and I saw another of Harry's plentiful bunches of mistletoe hanging there. The cold chill of misery shivered through me. I'd seen hope in Jacob's eyes and felt, in return, a leap of excitement inside me. I'd tasted passion in the kiss and a promise, too— but one I couldn't deliver. Jacob was breathing heavily, watching me. He looked flushed, but his eyes glinted with a more determined darkness. Maybe he was challenging me to laugh off the kiss. I shook my head. I felt so mean I disgusted myself. "Don't apologize. No problem. I just...." There was that word 'just' again, pathetic and inadequate. I grasped my coat and turned towards the front door. My eyes seemed to have trouble focusing properly. "I'll call the cab, shall I? I can't stay much longer, I'm feeling queasy. Something must have disagreed with me tonight." **** 15

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I hadn't slept well for a few weeks, but that night was worse than ever. It couldn't have been the drinks at the party, I'd had so few. Maybe my stupid excuse to Jacob was the truth after all. Whatever the reason, my dream was extraordinarily vivid. In it, I was sitting by the phone, my hand still on it, though I knew the call had finished several minutes before. My body shook; my heartbeat raced. I knew I was in my apartment, and I knew it was Christmas time, but it should all have been in the past—this call had happened a year ago. I was only vaguely aware of other things around me—my furniture, my modest Christmas decorations, all the familiar sounds and smells. I'd just called the guy I was dating to confirm our plans; to hear his voice. But it hadn't gone that well, had it? This was the man I'd planned to take to Harry's annual Christmas party, to share my fun and friendships with, to enjoy the Christmas celebrations with. The man who'd just let another young man's sleepy, sex-sated voice answer my phone call. The man who hadn't even bothered to make excuses when I challenged him about it. Ben, don't be naïve, since when did I say we were exclusive? The cold, careless laughter still echoed in my head As if on a movie screen, the dream shifted scenes. I saw myself at Harry's party, also a year ago, a few days after the phone call. I was alone, of course—and damned poor company, too. Harry frowned whenever he looked across at me, and Matt hovered around me with concern, as if I might bolt away. Poor Amy looked tearful when she caught my eye, 16

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which I sympathized with, without really understanding what she was upset about. It wasn't anyone else's problem except mine, right? It was Christmas. Everyone else should be happy. I turned to find Jacob standing close beside me, but that was always a good feeling. After all, we'd been friends since college. He knew everything about me and yet still wanted to be with me, or so I often joked. He wasn't joking back that night. For a moment, I seemed to hover outside of my body, and from that vantage point I could see the worry shadowing his sociable smile. But he was trying not to show it, grinning up at the mistletoe nailed on the door frame and nudging me back against the wall, away from the party crowds around us. He was a little clumsy, as if he'd had more to drink than usual. Watching the careful way he sheltered me from everyone else, I suddenly wondered if I was the cause of his concern—and his drinking—that night. It was a shocking thought. The dream nudged at my mind again. The noises around me sounded strangely muted, and the other guests blurred into shapeless figures at the corners of my vision. It was difficult for me to focus on anything but Jacob, but like I said before, that was a good feeling for me. I slid like stage smoke back into my own body and gazed straight into his dark, compassionate eyes. I felt the physical warmth of his arms around me and it suddenly filled me with exhilaration. I pulled him closer, smiling. For a second, he looked startled, and then I kissed him. First time I ever touched him like that—and hell, it was the most delicious thing I'd ever done! I laughed, 17

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and then so did he, and I kissed him again and again. When we pulled apart, we were both wide-eyed with shock and delight. I hadn't asked his permission, but he hadn't resisted, either. I knew with the certainty of hindsight that both of us had welcomed it. Both of us had felt the passion—both of us had surrendered to the need. I felt cold and warm, all at the same time, as if I'd gone into shock. I knew that I was only dreaming, but the emotions returned as vividly as if I were back in that moment. It was nothing like the frantic, frightened tension there'd always been between me and my ex. Kissing Jacob was deliciously unique, blissfully new. The whole thing had been like nothing I'd experienced before. How could I have missed that growing feeling, over the years? How long had I felt that way—how much time had I wasted with idiots like my ex? It was astonishing pleasure, all mixed in with a sudden, dreadful fear that I would lose a friend and a lover before I even had the chance to see what he felt in return. What strange, confused madness! How ridiculous that I'd never seen it before. I needed to tell him! Fear rose in me, like the panic at the end of dreams when you know you're about to awaken. I had to tell Jacob that this was what I wanted, and to ask him to give me the chance to see sense again ... that he was what I wanted. But my throat was dry and his arms were slipping from around me. And then I woke up. ****

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The phone rang, insistent, nagging. I fumbled for it beside the bed, still half asleep and disorientated. I grunted into it. "Ben? It's me, Jacob." Of course it was. For a sudden, bewildered moment, I relished the image of him beside me in bed, warm and grinning, naked body nudging up against my back, his arm sliding mischievously around my waist ... and then I wondered where the hell that thought had come from. "What time is it?" He laughed, softly. "It's the afternoon that follows the morning after. Did I wake you? I know Harry's parties are legendary, but I didn't think you'd over-indulged that much." I groaned and pulled myself up to sitting. "I don't know, whatever. Bad dream." Or a painfully good one? "What's up?" I stared at the tangled bedding around my feet while I waited for him to speak again. He wasn't usually so hesitant. "I just ... I wondered what you were doing for Christmas this year. The actual day. With your family being overseas." I fell quiet for a moment. What great conversationalists we were. "Hey, I'm good," I blustered. I had my pride, right? "I'm probably going to some more not-so-legendary parties. There are some things going on with the work crowd, too. Anyway, I'll be pretty busy, putting the decorations up here and everything." "Including mistletoe?" My heart missed a beat. Memories of last year's desire lingered on from the dream, and goose bumps tickled along my skin. Jacob's voice sounded odd, but maybe that was due to the awkward way I was clutching the phone to my ear. I 19

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shifted about on the bed and swung my legs over the side of the mattress. I couldn't believe I'd slept in so late. "I doubt it. I've not got a lot of time for that nowadays. So what'll you be doing?" "Just chilling and cooking," he said. I heard the slow smile return to his voice. "You're a fine cook." I smiled back, feeling silly because of course, he couldn't see me. "You've kept me this side of malnourished more than a few times." He made a snort of protest. "Yeah, that's what friends are for. I like cooking for you." "You're too good a friend, you know that?" It was true. We'd spent many times at his apartment, cooking, eating, watching movies and laughing together. Something twisted inside my stomach, and it wasn't hunger. "Like I said, that's what friends do." He laughed, but his voice sounded shaky. There was definitely some technical problem on the line. "And they also wait," he added, softly. "Huh?" I yawned, and reckoned I'd misheard him. "Look, don't make any plans that include me, I have plenty of things to do." He sighed, so quietly I almost missed it. "No problem. I'll get on with things here, but ... I'll wait." I frowned. The thought of him in his apartment, expecting my visit, troubled me. He shouldn't be wasting his time, of course, but ... it made me feel good, too. I cleared my throat, awkward with the direction our conversation was taking. "Got to get going now, Jacob, lots to do. Catch you later." 20

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I hung up, wondering why the feeling in the pit of my stomach bore the familiar clench of despair. **** I slept badly again that night. I'd taken the week off work, so maybe it was the lack of routine that disturbed me. Anyway, it wasn't the past that bothered me in a dream this time, but a very obvious present. I was in my own living room with the TV on, muted but flickering its bright images over the dull walls. I hadn't turned on the other lights, though it must have been near midnight. There was a damp, stale odor in the room as if it hadn't been aired for some time. A patina of greasy smells lingered over it all, the aroma of fried food and cheap takeouts. I shifted awkwardly and realized I lay huddled up on the couch. Hell, if I fell asleep there, I'd get a cramp, I always did because it was too short for me. Wasn't I bothered enough to move? I felt cold, and my clothes stuck to me as if I hadn't changed for a day or so. And what about my preparations for Christmas Day? I scanned the room, but there wasn't a single decoration in sight, apart from a couple of cards on the mantelpiece and a smudge of crushed mistletoe berries on the edge of the carpet. No tree, no streamers nor any evidence of invitations elsewhere for the holiday. My dirty clothes lay heaped in a pile on the floor, and a half-filled mug of cold tea rested on the table next to the TV, contributing another grubby ring to the wooden surface. A shiver ran through my tired body. 21

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And then the images started to flow past me, like a TV drama, the Ben and Jacob show. It had all started after Harry's party last year. Scene one, I slammed the phone down on Jacob's call, right after I told him to keep the hell out of my life. Scene two, he came around to my apartment, furious with me. Even in the middle of my dream, I felt the cold wash of shock. When had he ever confronted me like that? But his eyes were wild, and he shouted that I'd been the one to invite him into my life in the first place, only to push him away again because I was too damned scared of something that could be real and long-lasting. He cared so much about me, he said, his voice tight and miserable. He cared so much about us. I felt ... mortified. Then, in scene three he held me, while I told him we'd both been too drunk that night at Harry's party, I shouldn't have kissed him, and I was damned sorry to have led him on. It'd all be for the best, I said, if we went back to being friends. My voice sounded hoarse and unconvincing. Hell, I added, making a pathetic joke of it, I'd made a mess of romance in the past and I just wasn't worth the trouble. I'd turned my head away from his kiss at the same time as fighting the need to cling to him. And in return, I heard him say that he knew how I felt ... that it was fine, he understood perfectly. But in my dream I could see his eyes, and they said so obviously that he didn't. That it was far from fine, and I'd hurt him, more than I'd ever realized. Why did I do it? Why did I refuse to try ... refuse to hope? All these scenes had happened, but I hadn't seen them this 22

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way before. I'd pushed it all to the back of my mind. Things had settled down after that. I'd begun to believe that our first kiss came from a Christmas madness that luckily both Jacob and I had escaped. The joy of his touch had become my guilty secret, and mine alone. After all, he wouldn't want to remember the embarrassment of his best friend coming on to him, would he? Sure, he'd kissed me back at the time, but out of pity, I was sure, for I knew his innate kindness. And for me, grabbing out at him, kissing him as if I'd discovered the Holy Grail—well, it had been due to my fear of loneliness, my pain at being rejected elsewhere. Of course it had. But now it was a year later and that's exactly what was happening to me again, facing Christmas alone, sitting in my silent, inhospitable room. This time, I woke with tears on my cheeks. **** The phone rang again, cutting through the cold morning air in my bedroom. I managed another grunt into the mouthpiece, but not much more than that. "Jacob?" "Ben? Still not sleeping properly?" He laughed, but sounded concerned. "I'm calling to invite you over for Christmas. To my place." I heard him draw a breath. "Look, if you've got other things to do, other people to see ... just come for a while. We can go out or stay in, whatever you feel most comfortable with." It was on the tip of my tongue to lie and tell him just how busy I was, but I stopped myself, ashamed of my cowardice. "Maybe," I said, softly. 23

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He sighed. "Harry's worried about you, you know. We all are. I am. Since last year, you've been ... you've held back from us. Your friends care a lot about you, Ben. And I know Christmas is..." He sighed again and his voice sounded sad. "Christmas is a hard time, sometimes." "Jacob...?" I was slow to speak, trying to sort out the questions in my mind. "Last year, when I had all that trouble with my ex. With ... coping." My throat felt tight; the remnants of my dream were like a physical headache. "I really wasn't much of a friend to you, was I?" There was silence on the line. There seemed to be a lot of that going on. He coughed, gently. "You're my best friend, Ben. You trusted me to be there for you. That's..." He paused, as if he was trying to catch his breath. "That was fine. That's what you needed. I understood." There was something in his voice that disturbed me. Maybe he'd understood, but maybe I hadn't. "Look," he said, his voice still tight. "Come over. There might be a party tomorrow, Christmas Eve. You'll definitely be invited. Come with me." It was strange, listening to his stilted words and wondering why he sounded so nervous. "A party like Harry's?" He laughed aloud, then. "Hell, no! Something on a much smaller scale. Quieter—but just as good, I hope." He sounded stronger now; calmer. "It'll be fine, I promise you." Something in his tone made me feel as warm as if he'd wrapped a blanket around me. I wanted to say yes, but I actually said, "I don't know about that. I'll get back to you, Okay?" 24

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"I'll wait," he said, quietly. "And that's fine, too." This time, he was the one who hung up first. **** The day had slipped away from me again, though I had been out and bought a bunch of decorations. I scrabbled around, climbing up on chairs until the small hours of the morning, brightening up the apartment. I'd nearly strangled myself on tinsel a couple of times, missed eating a proper supper, and had a few too many beers. Maybe I hoped I'd sleep through whatever it was that had disturbed my last two nights. No such luck. I recognized the streets of the local town in this night's dream, though many things looked different. It seemed as if new buildings had sprung up overnight and so had a brand new mall. It took me quite some time to realize that this was what the place might look like, a year in the future. It was Christmas again. A fresh fall of snow covered the ground, and seasonal music played through a loudspeaker across the street, annoyingly distorted. The decorations in all the shop windows were bright and garish. I knew it was cold when I saw people hurrying along the sidewalk, their breath rising as vapor in the air, but I didn't feel the chill myself. I was somehow positioned as a spectator, looking down on everyone. I wondered where my real body was. A group of people, laden with bags and wrapped up in thick coats and scarves, suddenly spilled out of a new clothing store. They side-stepped a rotund, plastic Santa, then skipped 25

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around an equally tacky model of a reindeer, laughing loudly. Startled, I recognized Harry, Matt and Amy amongst them. They all looked happy, but ... different; a little older. Hey, I thought, it was great to see my friends together, and I tried to call out to them. Kids ran past, shrieking, and cars splattered the curb with wet spray from the slush. But for some reason, I couldn't hear my words. They stood for a while at the curbside, apparently looking around for a cab to get them home with their purchases. Harry suddenly turned to Matt, tugged him closer by the collar of his coat and planted a kiss on his pink nose. My heart turned over and I grinned. Harry was a sentimental fool! Amy was smiling at them, too, then she turned to wave to a young man approaching the group from the other side of the street. I recognized the blond guy from Harry's party this year—the irritatingly good-looking one—and I wondered if he and Amy were dating now. A cab drew up, half-hiding them all, and there was more laughter as they piled in, obviously offering to share the fare. When the cab pulled away, one person remained on the sidewalk—Amy's new guy. He took a small collection of letters out of his inside pocket and started thumbing through them aimlessly. I wondered why he hadn't gone in the cab with everyone else. Suddenly, he also turned and waved, as another young man joined him from a store across the mall. This dark-haired man held up a shopping bag as if pleased with his purchase. Laughing, he placed a hand on New Guy's shoulder then leaned forward and lightly kissed him on the mouth. 26

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My heart stopped, though the scene continued to roll. It was Jacob. Slim, good-looking Jacob wrapped in an expensive new coat, looking taller and leaner and with a sharper haircut than I'd ever seen. Jacob, handing New Guy his bag to hold, and taking the letters in return from him. My Jacob, smiling at the blond man as if they were on such friendly terms that they browsed each other's mail, and went shopping together. Very friendly terms. The pain was so sharp that I felt wrenched in two. "We're not like that," I'd said to Matt at Harry's party, answering for both myself and Jacob in my arrogant way. "He won't wait forever," Matt had replied, and I'd pretended I didn't know what he meant. And why on earth should Jacob wait? He was great looking, a good companion, and full of that innate kindness that I'd presumed on so many damned times. Jacob deserved the very best. He was bound to be snapped up by someone who was ... not me. The shock of realization took my breath away. New Guy twirled something between his fingers, a grin on his face. It was mistletoe, a great, fat, glowingly healthy bunch of it. Jacob looked across at him and smiled back, though distractedly. My misery gave way to a sudden, fierce possessiveness—I wasn't sure I could vouch for my response if New Guy took things further with that mistletoe, nudging up against Jacob, leering at him like that. What the hell were his intentions, anyway? Jacob was flicking through the letters, his face more solemn. The need to be beside him, to nestle my arm around his waist, flared inside me. I wanted him ... I needed him. It 27

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was like a physical ache although I still couldn't feel the rest of my body. I gazed at his face, flushed with the cold, and I knew I wanted that sight for every second of my life. I understood everything at last, and yet the important things still eluded me. How could I tell him? How could I put things right? I'd lost my chance with him. I knew it. I mourned it. New Guy leaned over the curb, waving for a cab, but my gaze remained on Jacob. He held one particular letter and turned it over time and again in his hand. Don't ask me how I saw it so clearly, but I did. It was a card, probably a Christmas one. The envelope was still sealed. His expression suddenly closed in on itself, the smile fading from his lips and his eyes darkening with a sorrow I'd never seen in him before. Maybe he never showed me that side of him—or maybe I was never there to see it. But I clearly saw the stamp on the card, "Return to Sender", and the name and address on the front. Yeah. It was mine. **** This time it wasn't the phone ringing through the apartment that alerted me so early, but a hammering on the front door. And this time, I was already awake and strode quickly to open the door. Jacob stood there, hand raised to knock again, obviously startled to see me up and about. 28

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"The dreams," I said, hurriedly, before he could speak. "I mean, they were distorted, sure. The past was sort of true, but not quite. The present—it was just a warning of where I was headed. But the future ... well, that might still happen. I have the chance to change it, right?" He stared at me, bemused. "Have you been drinking?" I laughed, and it sounded good. I wished there'd been more happy moments the last few months. "I'm so glad to see you, Jacob. I've been a damned fool. And so many times, I've lost count." His mouth curved up into a cautious smile. "I'm not arguing with you this early in the morning, even if I didn't agree with that statement. So just get your bag and let's get going." "Huh?" I stared back, halted for a moment. He flushed. "I've taken matters into my own hands. You're coming to stay with me for Christmas, Ben. I don't care about your riotous social life elsewhere—" "There isn't any," I interrupted, feeling my own cheeks heat. We each seemed to be rather startled by the other. "Okay." He drew a deep breath. "That's good. Well, not. For you, anyway." He smiled, still seeming wary of me. I stood aside and beckoned him into the apartment. It had never been more true—I was glad to see him. As he passed me and came inside, his hand brushed against my hip and my whole body shivered with pleasure. Yeah—I was so very glad to see him. "Jacob..." He turned to me, reddening. "And I lied about the party tonight, there is no party. Except—" 29

Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

"You wouldn't mind a private one, at your place," I interrupted again. "Just you and me?" He looked shocked. "Yes, I ... how did you...?" He sucked in a breath. "Ben, this whole thing between us has gone on long enough and I've been a fool, too. The other night at Harry's, when I kissed you..." He winced as if he struggled to speak, then took another breath and continued. "I couldn't stop myself. Maybe I'm not prepared to wait until another Christmas to tell you how I feel. Last year was the greatest thing that'd happened to me, holding you and knowing you wanted me." His face looked pained, a mixture of wanting to smile and frown at the same time. "I wanted much more than just a kiss—I think I've always wanted it, ever since I've known you. I just didn't want to ... push you. But, look, even if it's just temporary, even if that first time you were on the rebound from your ex-boyfriend, I want to work it out between us, if you're still remotely interested in me in that way—" "I'm interested," I cut in, swiftly. "And it wasn't." Jacob raised his eyebrows, confused, but I gave him no time to reply. "It wasn't temporary nor on the rebound," I babbled. I'd never spoken to him so openly before, but I reckoned it was about time I saw sense. "You've never been anything but the most constant, caring man in my life. But I was confused and idiotic enough to drag you into my mess. I've had trouble deciding what I want in life—what I think I deserve." He swallowed carefully, watching my reactions very closely. "You're the best thing in my life, Ben." 30

Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

"You've always been the same," I said, a little shakily. "In mine, that is." It just took a few dreams to make me realize how much. He grinned, like the proverbial cat with a whole bowl-full of cream. "So I'll wait for you to decide," he said, firmly. I peered at him, not sure what he meant. He shook his head and smiled. "I'll wait for you to decide what you deserve ... what you want from me. From us." I grimaced. "Could be a long wait. And we can't just stand here for the whole of Christmas..." He stepped forward, put a hand on my shoulder and kissed me. When he raised his head again, I was breathless. "I'll wait for you forever if need be," he said, simply. It was flattering to see that he was pretty breathless, too. "Nothing's forever," I said, gently, but my heart was hammering with excitement. "Then for as long as you like." He shrugged. I knew that look on his face; it was his determined one. "It's fine with me. I know that you don't want to rush things—" That was when I stepped forward and kissed him back. "Maybe I do," I said with a smile, after we'd both gone through the breathless phase again. "I've already wasted a hell of a lot of time and mistletoe on the wrong people." He laughed again, with real happiness. He ran a hand down my arm as if the touch was astonishing to him; as if I'd suddenly become a different person and he needed to check I was real. "We'll celebrate the holiday together, then," he murmured. "We can talk about rushing things as much, or as little, as we 31

Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

like." His eyes widened, full of sparkle that was a hell of a lot brighter than any Christmas lights. "Bring your favorite decorations with you. I suggest mistletoe." As I grabbed for a bag to pack up my toothbrush and as many changes of socks as I could fit in, I paused and turned back to grin at him. "I don't know about you," I said, "But I don't think we'll need it!" [Back to Table of Contents]

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Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

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**** About the Author Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves and ... writes. She juggles fiction with a frantic family life and waits for the far distant day when she can afford to give up her day job as an accountant. She's written in many genres and across many settings, with short stories published both online and in print anthologies. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama, with a healthy serving of erotica, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters. Watch for her upcoming release, Masquerade, a collection of four explicit, seductive tales to entertain and enthrall, coming from Eternal 33

Just Like Scrooge by Clare London

Press in December, 2007. Clare currently has a fantasy novel in the process of publication, two more nearing completion, and plenty of other projects in mind ...she just has to find out where she left them in amongst the frantic family life.

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