Snowflakes and Song Lyrics

by Hank Edwards

Rex laughed as well and slid closer in order to take Will’s hand. “Is it okay if I kiss you right now?”

  Will’s mouth went dry and he lost all power of speech. The sweet kiss the night before had been a surprise, and he hadn’t gotten a chance to worry about it. Rex asking for consent was great, but Will’s brain had time to run through a thousand different terrible scenarios before Rex’s lips touched his.

  The kiss started out soft and sweet but slid into something more heated and intense. Rex’s tongue traced the line of Will’s mouth, and Will opened to him. Fireworks and explosions and supernovas went off in Will’s mind as they kissed, and when Rex finally pulled away, he was glassy-eyed and smiling.

  “Damn,” Rex whispered. “Tell me it felt as intense to you.”

  “Yeah,” Will said, his voice catching and forcing him to clear his throat. “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “Good. Wow.”

  Rex leaned in for a series of sweet, shorter kisses, asking in between them, “Do you have plans on New Year’s Eve?”

  Will kissed him back, relishing the softness of Rex’s lips and the feel of his talented tongue. “Not that I know of.”

  Rex kissed him once more, firmly, then held Will’s face in his hands and looked him in the eye. “You do now.”

  Epilogue

  Will pulled his rental car into a space in the parking lot of the Williamsville Inn and shut the engine off. He’d been smiling for at least a week now, ever since Rex had sent a plane ticket and rental car voucher via express mail to Will in Boston. It was Christmas Eve, and Rex had invited Will to return to the hotel where they’d first met.

  The romance of it all made Will swoon. It sometimes felt as if he’d spent a majority of the past year swooning over something Rex did. He just hoped Rex swooned a bit himself from time to time.

  Will got out of the car and grabbed his carry-on bag from the back seat. Walking into the hotel, he stopped and looked around the lobby. Some updates had been done to the decor, but the breakfast buffet area was still there, and a Christmas tree blinked serenely in a corner. All in all, it was very much the way it had looked when Will had checked out a year ago. Back then, he had been rushing through the lobby to avoid seeing Rex. Now, he was rushing to meet Rex. What a difference a year made.

  Will approached the front desk and gave his name to the friendly girl waiting there.

  “Here you go, Mr. Johnson,” the clerk said. “You’re in room 327.”

  Will laughed. “Oh my God.”

  She smiled nervously. “Is there a problem?”

  “Nope. Everything is perfect.” He took the keycard from her. “He thinks of everything. Thank you very much.”

  Will chuckled the entire ride up to the third floor in the elevator and continued as he made his way down the hall to the very familiar door of room 327. He let himself in and was very happy to see the room had been updated with more modern furnishings, including a memory foam mattress. There was a note on the pillow that made him smile: Welcome back, Will! Enjoy your stay, and I’ll see you soon. Merry Christmas, Doreen.

  The heat was set to a pleasant temperature, but Will slid the window open and looked down into the courtyard. The same small café tables and chairs on the same postage stamp patios, all of it buried beneath deep snow.

  Rex wouldn’t be arriving until later that afternoon, so Will unpacked and took a shower. After drying off, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stood before the full-length mirror in the entryway. He’d focused on working out more often and eating better the past year and had seen some good results because of it. It wasn’t anything Rex had suggested he do; it was something Will had done on his own, for himself.

  Will grinned as he thought about their sex life. The first time had been on New Year’s Eve, and Will had been kind of self-conscious, but Rex had made him feel relaxed and confident.

  “I’m a bear chaser,” Rex had said with a casual shrug. “I like my men beefy and agile, and baby bear, you check both of those boxes. Just relax and enjoy it.”

  Rex’s attentions had helped Will relax, and the first time had been great. Each time seemed to only get better, and Will had shared this with Carter, who immediately started saying “Sex with Rex” over and over. When Rex and Carter got together, there was no telling what would be said or sung, and Will had learned he just needed to sit back and let them go.

  He got dressed and sat the desk, opening his work laptop. Still with the same company, he’d been promoted to a team leader role over the summer and was really enjoying it. He had a good team, and even though the manager he reported to was sometimes hard to read, Will liked her. A few emails were waiting in his inbox, so he replied to them. With the last email sent, Will made sure his out of office was set for the following week, then surfed the web and read some news.

  Someone started playing guitar down in the courtyard, and Will sat back and laughed. He shut down his laptop and turned to the window, pushing the blinds aside and opening the window as far as possible.

  Rex stood on the same patio he’d been at last year, but this time, he looked right at Will’s window. The tune he played was very familiar. It was, of course, “Can I Pretend You’re Mine for Christmas,” the song they’d written together, the royalties for which Rex had offered to split with Will. But Will had asked for his share to be donated directly to an organization that provided food, shelter, and counseling for LGBTQ youth all across the country. If Will had found happiness by helping Rex write that song, he wanted to help other LGBTQ kids find that as well.

  Will sang along, his breath clouding through the window screen. But Rex changed up the words when he came to the chorus, and Will frowned and stopped singing to listen to these updated lyrics. Instead of the actual lyrics that went,

  Can I pretend you’re mine for Christmas?

  Can I wish for you this Christmas Eve?

  All I want from Santa is your kisses

  Can I pretend you’re mine for Christmas?

  Rex sang,

  Will you always be mine for Christmas?

  Will you marry me this New Year’s Eve?

  All I want from you is a yes

  Will you always be mine for Christmas?

  Tears flooded Will’s eyes, and his heart pounded. Had he really heard Rex sing what he thought he’d heard? Will stared down at his boyfriend, whose voice he’d fallen in love with years before and now whose heart he’d apparently won. Rex continued singing all the original lyrics of the song, but when he reached the chorus, he sang the updated version once again:

  Will you always be mine for Christmas?

  Will you marry me this New Year’s Eve?

  All I want from you is a yes

  Will you always be mine for Christmas?

  Will laughed and clapped his hands. He turned in a circle, doing a little dance before shouting down into the courtyard, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  Rex laughed and sprinted toward the door leading into the hotel, high-stepping through the deep snow. Will laughed as he watched him, then hurried to the room door to pull it open. He leaned in the doorway and watched the corner of the elevator alcove, his heart beating fast and his hands shaking.

  The stairwell door opened at the end of the hall behind him, and Will turned to find Rex sprinting toward him, the guitar slung across his back. Rex was panting a bit, but it didn’t stop him from grabbing Will in a tight hug and kissing him hard.

  “Yes?” Rex asked when he pulled back.

  Will nodded. “Yes. Always.”

  “I love you, Will Will Johnson.”

  “I love you, too, Rex Garland,” Will said. “So much.”

  Rex kissed him again, slowly walking him back into the room and letting the door swing closed behind them.

  THE END

  Williamsville Inn holiday gay romance continues…

  For more stories from the Williamsville Inn, check out Brigham Vaughn’s Snowstorms and Second Chances.

  Erik Josef is a forty-three-year-old, recently divorce
d businessman with one goal: wrap up his last project of the year so he can spend the holidays in Tahiti. All he wants is drinks on a beach, served to him by a woman in a bikini.

  While waiting at an airport bar for his business partner to fly into Buffalo, New York, he encounters Seth Cobb, a chatty travel writer waiting for a flight to Pittsburgh to visit his family.

  After a huge snowstorm grounds all flights, a mix-up at the Williamsville Inn leads to Erik and Seth sharing a room. Seth’s love of Christmas gets on Erik’s last nerve, but a mugful of Seth’s hot chocolate slowly melts Erik’s icy exterior.

  When Erik realizes he’s attracted to Seth, he must choose between the life he’s always known, or a new adventure with a man a decade younger and a second chance at happiness.

  “It’s the most wonderful time of the year ...”

  Erik Josef grimaced down at his Scotch as the singer crooned the familiar, hellishly optimistic tune. If Erik heard one more fucking Christmas song, he was going to light everything even remotely Christmas-related on fire. Under the best of circumstances, the winter holidays were his least favorite time of year, but this, by far, was the worst.

  His marriage of nearly twenty years had officially ended last week. He didn’t miss Robin one iota; they’d been virtual strangers since their daughter, Joanna, went off to college four years ago—and they’d barely tolerated each other for a decade before that—but with the relentless barrage of holiday messages about family and togetherness being shoved in his face, being single left him feeling even more hollow than usual.

  And lonely.

  This year, Joanna was spending her holiday break in Vail with her boyfriend’s parents. By the end of the break, she’d presumably come home with a sparkling engagement ring on her finger. Or at least, that’s what her boyfriend was planning, and based on the besotted looks Joanna usually gave Keith, she’d say yes.

  When Keith had called a few weeks ago, Erik had given him his blessing and swallowed down the cynical words that hovered on the tip of his tongue that Keith would be better off just handing over half of his assets to Joanna and skipping the whole damn failed marriage and inevitable divorce. Not that Joanna was a whole lot like her mother—or Erik, for that matter—and Keith was a decent guy, but that didn’t mean Erik thought they’d make a success of it.

  What couple did? He couldn’t think of a single happy couple he personally knew. Presumably, they existed somewhere in the world. Or maybe every couple was miserable and hiding it. People had been shocked when he and Robin divorced. They’d truly thought the show the two of them had put on over the years had been genuine. What a damn joke.

  Now the relentless holiday cheer made him want to hunker down and ignore the entire month of December. He’d planned to spend a few weeks somewhere tropical and forget Christmas even existed. Being served drinks on a beach in Tahiti by a woman in a bikini sounded far better to him than drinking alone in his Philly loft. He’d moved in nearly a year ago, but he’d hardly bothered to do more than furnish it with the basics. Joanna had been devasted when he and Robin had sold her childhood home, but it was a giant monstrosity that neither he nor Robin had wanted. If Joanna had stayed home for the holidays, he probably would have made an attempt at decorating—gotten a tree with lights and hung some ornaments at least—but if he was spending the holiday by himself in the tropics, what was the damn point?

  He’d been ready to book his tickets when his business partner Bertram had stumbled upon an old hotel in the property management company’s holdings. A considerable amount of digging had revealed that it had been acquired by Erik’s father decades ago, but why the elder Joseph had bought it in the first place was a mystery. A run-down hotel thirty minutes outside of Buffalo, New York wasn’t the typical acquisition for the company, but since his father had died a little over a year ago of a heart attack, Erik had no way of finding out why he’d purchased it in the first place.

  Bertram had decided he wanted it off the books before the end of the year, so here Erik was, killing time in a hotel bar in Buffalo on Christmas Eve instead of in Tahiti. What on earth had he done in a past life to deserve that? Surely, no one was that terrible.

  The original plan had been for both Erik and Bertram to fly into Buffalo, then drive to Williamsville together to assess the property and decide if it should be sold. But Bertram had taken a later flight that had been delayed at least three times due to winter storms sweeping in. At this rate, Erik was beginning to doubt Bertram would ever make it. So, until Erik heard otherwise, he was going to keep his ass parked on the stool in the airport pub and order glasses of Scotch until either his money or his liver cried uncle. Given the size of his bank account, his odds were on his liver giving out first.

  If Bertram wanted Erik here in Buffalo the day before Christmas, he could damn well do the driving himself.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  Erik glanced up to see a boyish grin aimed in his direction. The man it belonged to had a grip on the back of the barstool next to him and an inquisitive eyebrow cocked at him. Erik shook his head in answer. “Help yourself.”

  Erik turned back to his drink as the guy flopped onto the chair next to him, bumping Erik’s right arm and thigh as he got settled.

  “I think this is the last open seat here,” the stranger said as he hung a canvas messenger back off the back of the chair, his elbow brushing Erik’s side. “Sorry to disrupt you. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze.”

  Erik glanced around the pub as he tried to subtly shift away from the guy next to him, but it was packed. Umpteen delays and rerouted flights had swelled the usual number of travelers in the Buffalo airport, and the gates and restaurants were all packed to bursting as people tried to find a way to kill the time.

  “It’s fine,” Erik muttered.

  “Seth Cobb.” The stranger held out a hand and offered him a warm smile, his expression animated. He was maybe in his early thirties at most. Erik was a good ten years older, and his blue eyes and short red hair were the polar opposite of Seth’s messy brown hair and dark eyes. “I figure I should introduce myself if I’m going to be all up in your business here.”

  “Erik.” Reluctantly, he shook the proffered hand, not wanting to encourage a chatty stranger.

  “Hell of a storm coming through here, huh?” Seth asked as he got comfortable in his chair. He sounded disgustingly cheerful in spite of the topic. “They’re predicting almost two feet of snow. That’s Buffalo for you, I suppose. Lake effect snow and all that.”

  Erik grunted.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asked Seth, and Erik sent the man a silent thank you for interrupting. Hopefully, Seth would turn his attention elsewhere afterward. Unfortunately, Erik couldn’t tune out the conversation they had.

  “A hard cider, please. Can I order food here at the bar too?” Seth asked.

  “Sure. You know what you want?” The bartender sounded as bored as Erik felt.

  “Oh, I’ve hardly had time to look at the menu. Hmm. I feel like all I’ve eaten in the past few days is Buffalo wings. Any suggestions for something that doesn’t involve spicy chicken?”

  “Our blue burger is good, and so is the pulled pork flatbread.”

  “Let’s see ... melted blue cheese, pickled red onion, and cracked black pepper mayonnaise,” Seth read off. “That does sound good. Although, the slow-cooked pork with cheddar and BBQ sauce sounds tasty too. Now, is the flatbread crispy or chewy?”

  “Chewy.”

  “Hmm. Which is your favorite?”

  “Blue burger,” the bartender said without hesitation. “It’s my go-to.”

  “I’ll take that then.”

  “You won’t regret it. Fries okay?”

  “Do you have sweet potato fries?”

  “We do.”

  “I’ll take those please.”

  “Sure thing. Anything else?”

  “Just a water. Thanks.”

  When he was gone, Seth nudged Erik with his elbow. Automatically
, Erik glanced over at him. He was in the midst of removing an olive-green cardigan sweater. It revealed a wrinkled black shirt that had several buttons undone and a slice of his chest. A rather hairy chest. As he rolled up his shirtsleeves, Erik could see that his arms were hairy too—although not so much as to be off-putting—and given his dark beard, he was probably hairy everywhere. Wondering why he was even thinking about it, Erik glanced away again, staring blindly at a nearby table where a couple of guys were eating.

  “Hey, is that Rex Garland?” Seth said under his breath. He nudged Erik’s side with his elbow again, but this time the motion seemed deliberate.

  Reflexively, he looked back at Seth. “Who the hell is Rex Garland?”

  Seth gaped at him. “You seriously don’t know who Rex Garland is?”

  “No. Should I?”

  “He’s a huge deal. Probably the biggest gay singer out there right now.”

  “Well, that explains why I don’t know him.”

  “You have something against gay singers?” Seth raised an eyebrow, and Erik realized how that had probably come across.

  “No.” He took a swallow of his Scotch. “I don’t listen to much popular music.”

  The tightness on Seth’s face eased. “You should check out his stuff sometime. He’s good. I’m more interested in the fact that he looks like he’s flirting hard with that guy he’s with.”

  Erik glanced in the direction Seth was looking. “Which guys are you even talking about?”

  “The two at that small table over there who you were staring at. The one with the dark stubble is Rex Garland. I don’t recognize the guy he’s with. He’s good looking though. I like the big bear vibe he has going on. Rowr.”

  Erik just nodded. He had no idea why he’d even been dragged into this ridiculous conversation. He just wished he knew how to make it stop.

  “So where are you traveling to? Or from?” Seth asked. Christ. Erik felt a headache begin to form at the base of his skull.