The Stocking Was Hung(11)

“Reggie, stop being a cock-blocker,” Aunt Bobbie laughs. “Move aside and let Noel and her non-gay boyfriend go to bed. She’s got a package to unwrap.”

Everyone’s eyes immediately zero in on my crotch.

So much for dim lighting.

Noel wraps her hand around my elbow and pulls me out from under the pot mistletoe, stopping to give her father a quick kiss on the cheek as we walk by him.

“Goodnight, everyone,” she calls back over her shoulder, pulling me down the hall and toward the stairs.

“Don’t get any funny ideas up in that bedroom, her milk is expired!” Noel’s father yells after us as we quickly move up the steps. I look back over my shoulder and give him an awkward wave.

As Noel quickly ushers us upstairs and we walk past a few closed doors, we finally reach the last room at the end of the hall and she pushes the wooden door open, gesturing for me to go in first.

“Welcome to my childhood bedroom,” she announces, closing the door behind us.

I take a few steps into the room, my feet sinking into the dark blue, plush carpet and stop dead in my tracks when I get inside, my eyes darting around the room at all the non-girly items.

“Um, Leon, you’ve got some explaining to do,” I mutter, hoping to God I didn’t just almost come in my pants while kissing a dude.





Chapter 5




Noel


Who’s Leon? Is he Leon? Is the bed Leon? What day is it? Where am I?

I did a great job acting like what just happened down in the living room was no big deal as I quickly ushered Sam upstairs to my old bedroom. Now that we’re here, in this tiny room and his hulking, muscular, hot body takes up half of the small space, all I can think about is his lips on mine. His tongue sliding against mine. His body pressed up to mine and the flex of the muscles in his back under my palms when I slid my hands around him, and the sound of his moan of pleasure in my mouth when I greedily sucked on his lips and the hard piece of steel jabbing against the seam of my jeans when I pushed my hips against his, and, and, and…

Sweet Baby Barracuda, he’s hung like a Christmas donkey. Like Dominic the Donkey, but much less annoying and unpleasing to the ears. Very pleasing to the vagina.

“I’m heartbroken, jobless, and homeless,” I blurt in response to his question. Whatever his question was. Did he ask a question? I’m pretty sure he asked a question. Seriously, where the f*ck am I?

“We established that at the airport,” Sam responds dryly, his eyes moving quickly around the room. “Spill it, Leon. You look like a girl, feel like a girl, and taste like a girl, but after seeing how well Aunt Bobbie pulls off cleavage in that dress she’s wearing, and now seeing the contents of your old bedroom, you’ll have to forgive me if I’m confused. And by I’m, I mean my dick. My dick is very, very confused. My dick is never confused, Leon.”

His words come out more rapidly with each sentence, and when I finally get my brain back down to earth instead of floating around in the clouds of the small town I like to call FuckMeAgainstTheWallville, I look around the room and finally see what he’s seeing quickly understanding where his concerns are coming from. Not only are the walls of my old bedroom still painted in the same eggshell blue from the day my mother found out she was pregnant with me and my father started decorating this extra bedroom into a nursery, the carpet is dark blue and the dresser, nightstand and two bookshelves are dark walnut, as well as the headboard of the twin bed. Which is covered in a thick comforter of different swirls of blue. In case you haven’t guessed, my parents assumed I would be a boy. My parents wanted another boy when they found out they were pregnant again two years after my older brother was born. The color of this room probably wouldn’t give anyone much pause, but the trophies, plaques and blue first-place ribbons that adorn every available surface for everything from wrestling to hockey to baseball and football might. I’m also guessing Sam is struggling right now due to all of the framed team photos that go along with each trophy, propped up next to the corresponding award, filled with nothing but the smiling faces of all boys.

“I am most definitely a girl and these are not my things,” I reassure him.

Moving into the room and over to one of the shelves against the wall closest to me, I pick up a photo from my brother’s senior year of college when his baseball team won the state conference. Turning around, I hold up the frame and point to the guy kneeling in the front row with a smirk on his face, his short hair the same dark red as mine.

“That cocky * in the front is my brother, Nicholas, and these are all of his things,” I explain. “When my parents ran out of room for all of his shit in his old room and their room, they decided my room should also become a shrine to the Great and Powerful Nicholas Holiday.”

Sam chuckles and I cut off his laugh with a glare.

“Yes, Noel and Nicholas Holiday. Clearly you’ve already noticed my parents love Christmas so cut that shit out,” I warn him.

He quickly wipes the amused smile from his face and walks over to me, taking the photo from my hand and gently placing it back on the shelf where I took it.

“So, he’s the golden child and you’re…”

“A screw-up who has yet to settle down and give them grandchildren, and who they like to constantly remind me shits on everything I touch,” I finish.