The Christmas Pic

27. Ava

CHAPTER 27

AVA

Jo and I aren’t holding hands, but the electricity between us is palpable. I get stares from queer folks in all sorts of vulgar sweaters as we walk through the packed home’s wreathed door. The gaydar in Harmony Springs has already been upgraded from 5G and I’m just booting up.

Music rattles the little house as we squeeze through the hallway. Coming to terms with my sexuality in this wholly immersive context was not on my Christmas bingo card. I can handle brutal back-to-back Board meetings with ease, but being perceived like this? It’s completely overwhelming.

Jo waves hello to friends as I head straight to the punch bowl for a distraction from the gay blizzard in my brain.

“You good?” Jo sneaks up behind me in her ‘I Prefer Mrs. Claus’ sweater.

“Um, yeah,” I lie. I definitely can’t go into this right now, and even more definitely, not with her. “Lots of people here. You know them all?”

I nervously sip my drink and take in all the personalities that surround us. People wearing humping reindeer jumpers and ‘Merry Dickmas’ pullovers–so different from the crowd of buttoned up executives I’m used to. For some reason, all of them being so vibrantly themselves throws me. I’m usually the one that’s boldly confident, but now I’m questioning if that was even real confidence in the first place.

“Mostly,” she chuckles. “If you haven’t figured it out, Harmony Springs is a small town.” She smiles flirtily at me, but I’ve nearly forgotten the question I asked. I’m so in my head.

Jo senses something’s off and nails me right in the anxiety.

“Being around total strangers isn’t always easy, but…” She mulls over her next words. “These are your people now.”

And without having to go into it, she soothes me. These are my people now. They’ve all had to experience what I’m going through at this exact moment. Their eyes are not ogling, they’re knowing, and they have done nothing but accept me during my time in Harmony Springs thus far.

I take a breath. The anxiety fades. For the first time tonight, the waves of the Worry Sea part, and I see the party for what it is: a gay. Fucking. Rager.

After nearly an hour of meeting Jo’s (and now my) friends, we all sit in a circle in Jamal’s living room.

“Let Dirty Santa commence!” he shouts, awarded with hoots and hollers.

One by one, people unwrap the silliest of Christmas presents, from a lava lamp to a basket full of various Japanese Kit-Kat flavors.

On my turn, I pick a thick, circular package. I assume it’s a hefty cookie tin due to its shape, but what I get is so much better. A sleeve of ornaments featuring the faces of several gay icons, including the Babadook.

“I guess I’ll have to get a tree for my hotel room,” I laugh.

“Not so fast,” a tipsy Jo says, taking the ornaments from my hand. “I’m stealing for my turn!”

“How dare you!” I joke, as I go to pick another present. This time I opt for something more traditionally shaped, slightly bigger than a jewelry box. I rip off the shiny paper and my face instantly turns as red as the present itself.

Beneath its disguise of reindeer wrapping is a Santa hat dildo, equipped with a vibrating head and guaranteed G-spot stimulation (or your money back).

I turn to Jo, who bursts into laughter.

“There’s always one every year, and this year, it’s all yours.”

It’s past one a.m. when we leave Jamal’s, linked arm-in-arm, meandering our way down the shadowy street toward my rental.

There’s a giddiness bubbling inside of me that I haven’t experienced in… possibly ever? It’s childish and naive and wonderful. I slide into the car, my knee bouncing up and down, no longer able to channel the woozy glee into my walking. Jo rests a hand to still me, and sparks race up my thigh. Who needs a treadmill when you’ve got this?

“That was fun,” I murmur, sensing the curve of Jo’s smile in the dark.

“I thought you might enjoy yourself.” Her eyes catch mine, her lashes casting fluttering shadows across her cheeks.

Caught in her gaze, the energy in the car amplifies, as if a magnetic current charges the space between us. I can’t help the sharp little exhale that escapes my tightening chest.

Jo’s eyes take on a mischievous glint. “Could you help me find something in the back real quick?” She opens her door.

“What do you–”

She gives me the eyes.

“Right. Yes.” Duh, Ava. This is flirting.

As soon as we slip into the backseat, Jo leans in, her lips grazing mine softly. Her touch is electric, sending shivers down my spine.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” I whisper .

For a split second, I can tell by her face that she’s forgotten the pretext with which she used to lure me back here. But once my meaning registers, her deer-in-the-headlights gaze transforms into a coy grin.

“Not sure yet…” She comes back in for a kiss, and her roaming hand freezes on the box in my coat pocket. “Is that a Santa Hat dildo or are you happy to see me?”

I laugh. “Can it be both?”

The feeling I have, here in this cramped backseat, windows fogging up, local photographer using her teeth to tear into the elaborate packaging of a sex toy we’re about to use, is happiness. And I haven’t felt it like this in a very long time.