The Last Gift

by Chrissy Munder

  “Ma!” Nick hissed, filled with far more embarrassment than when he was twelve. “That’s Blaine.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Another arm poke, this time accompanied by a giggle. Nick wanted to crawl away and disappear. She and Dad must have tried the hard cider at the beer tent.

  “Your grandfather’s concert is going to start in a few minutes. Why don’t both you boys come and sit with us?”

  Before Nick could decide if this was a good thing or a very bad thing and respond accordingly, another pack of runners came down the chute, the bells on their shoes amplified through the electronic speakers as they raced to the finish line.

  “There’s Matt,” Aaron called with the advantage of his height. He appeared torn, turning toward his friend and then back again to Nick and his mother.

  Nick squeezed Aaron’s arm, lingering on that firm bicep for a little longer than polite. Why let his ma have all the joy. “Go ahead,” he said. “You and Matt have fun, and I’ll catch up to you later.”

  He’d had such a great time with Aaron, he didn’t want it to end, but maybe it was for the best. Aaron and Matt probably had their own plans, and he certainly wasn’t going to inflict his family on them.

  “You sure?” Aaron asked. Nick chose to hope that was reluctance he heard in his voice.

  “Yeah, it’s fine. I want you to tell him our times, though. Make him weep.” Nick took a firm grip on his mother’s coat sleeve and pulled her away from Aaron. “I had a good time. It was fun running with you.”

  “Maybe we can do it again, sometime?” Aaron’s parting smile seemed to carry the same hesitant confusion Nick felt at having their evening disrupted.

  “You bet.” Nick offered a final wave and hauled his questioning mother to the area set up for the choir performances. “Not now, Ma.”

  VI

  SHOULD HE ask Aaron out? Should he not? Nick spun his thumb ring and laid his head on the counter, hoping the cool surface would calm the chaos in his brain. He liked Aaron. Like, really liked Aaron. He perved over the guy’s cardigans, for God’s sake.

  Better yet, Aaron seemed to like him. Except, the Jingle Bell Run aside, their only real contact took place here in the store, and Nick would be back to his regular shift soon.

  Which meant no more Aaron.

  No more smiles like the sun rising solely for him. No more book recommendations. No more talking about Aaron’s day or the standoff with his personal assistant. No more guessing which warm, cuddly cardigan he’d dream about. No more tree-trunk thighs.

  Nick’s life would be over.

  Nick clunked his forehead against the counter. Not. Helping. He wanted this term over in the worst way, but he didn’t at the same time. Gah. This twisty-turny confusion sucked.

  He’d broken down and called his mother this morning for advice. Once she finished yelling at him for first, not calling often enough, and second, calling so late, or early. She couldn’t decide.

  More to the point, she told him she liked Aaron, and how they needed to get to know one another as friends first. Great. Thanks, Ma. Despite her enthusiastic, if slightly tipsy fondling of Aaron’s arm at the race, she didn’t fully grasp the depth of Nick’s newfound knitwear fetish.

  But friends. Get to know each other. Made sense. He could ask Aaron to train with him for the next couple of 5K events. There was always a New Year’s run, and then Valentine’s Day.

  Except, Aaron ran in the morning, and Nick, whenever time fit in his schedule. Which wasn’t often. Aaron worked during the day. Nick slept or was at school. When Aaron left work, Nick had a second job.

  Nick clunked his head against the counter once again. How was this his life? He found the absolutely perfect guy at the absolutely wrong time. Did Aaron like him enough to wait for him? Should he ask?

  The hearty ho ho ho of the door only added to Nick’s misery. Instead of greeting the customer, he merely groaned and stayed limp. What did it matter? Winter had come in with a bang, and the resulting snowstorm left the store so barren, Nick hadn’t protested when Blaine went home early.

  He’d take two minutes tops to ring up coffee and a donut for whatever idiot ventured into this mess, and then he’d have nothing to do but mop up the footprints. All without even raising his head.

  “Nick!”

  The familiar voice made Nick straighten so fast his neck popped. Oh, that idiot. He rubbed the spot beneath his ear and tried to seem normal. Like he had a chance in hell of that happening with his Intro to Human Behavior class textbook sprawled open on the floor under the microwave.

  Yeah, he’d tossed it. What was the point? Nothing in the stupid book helped him in the midst of his Aaron angst. He needed the Advanced Human Behavior class text.

  “Hey, Aaron,” Nick’s greeting trailed away when Aaron rushed his counter like a wind-blown snowflake. He wore a black, heathered cardigan today, unbuttoned and hanging open in a way that made Nick shiver at the very idea. This man needed a keeper.

  “Help!” Aaron draped himself over the counter while his blue eyes pleaded with Nick, his cheeks flushed bright with the cold.

  Nick didn’t even bother looking for outside trouble. Aaron in full drama mode was instantly recognizable at this point in their acquaintanceship. “What now?”

  “Secret Santa.” Aaron clutched at Nick’s shirt, pulling him toward his face. “Who comes up with this stuff?”

  Nick patted Aaron’s back, which glistened with melting snowflakes. This time he had no qualms on giving all that hard muscle a satisfying squeeze. He’d earn the quick grope. “You’re going to have to make up with your PA sometime.”

  Aaron stood up, straightening Nick’s collar with his cold fingers before hooking them into his sweater pockets. “I do not. I will win this war.”

  “You are so damn stubborn.” Nick sighed, what else could he do? Aaron’s face bore the same determined expression his little sister’s had when her sole goal in her young life had been escaping from her crib. All Aaron needed was the onesie to solidify the resemblance.

  Nick’s mood, lower than the gray clouds busy dumping snow, lightened, and he moved out from behind the counter. “Okay, who’s it for and when do you need it?”

  “One of the female support staff.”

  Nick watched while Aaron scrubbed his hand over his head, leaving those little hedgehog spikes of hair behind.

  “Sorry, but the luncheon is today?” Aaron glanced at his weather-scuffed loafers, his brilliant blue eyes appearing remorseful, and then back up at Nick through his eyelashes. Nick’s breath caught in his throat when they batted against the lenses of his glasses.

  How was that even fair?

  “Right.” Nick coughed. It took all his self-control to not throw himself across the counter until he had Aaron in a full-body koala hold and never let go. “They should cancel due to the weather. I can’t believe you’re out in this mess.”

  Aaron shrugged. “You’re on the way.” His voice sounded casual, but something in his expression made Nick pause. The moment stretched between them until a clump of snow fell off the roof and the sound jerked Nick out of his daze.

  “Let me think.” He tapped his thumb ring against his lip, all too aware of Aaron’s gaze fixed on his mouth and following the motion. So. Not. Helping.

  “Would you mind doing the basket thing again?” Nick glanced at Aaron’s now-blank expression. “Forget it, we’re doing the basket thing again.”

  He pushed out from behind the counter and waved Aaron to follow him. “You’re in luck, Amanda was bored last week.” The replacement bagel basket had red and green ribbon woven throughout the handle. Nick didn’t feel bad for pinching it even though she’d gone off on him for a full fifteen minutes when the other one disappeared. He handed the basket off to Aaron, and they trailed through the aisles.

  Crazy as it might be for a convenience store, one of the suppliers had stocked their section of the shelves with designer bath products. Nick understood beer. He understood candy,
soda, chips, and phone chargers. Even the tools and duct tape and other household items made sense. But bath stuff? Skin cream? Pouffy net scrubbies in fashionable colors? Whatever. He tossed them into the basket at will.

  Nick had almost cleared out the section when he judged they had enough to satisfy even his desire for soothing self-care. He dragged Aaron back to the front and began arranging his selections into an artful and pleasing manner, still totally unwilling to admit he enjoyed putting such a fabulous gift together. Which, yeah. Gift.

  Nick set the fuchsia bath poof in his hand aside. “I almost forgot.”

  “What?” Aaron asked. He didn’t look up from the bagel he was carefully covering with cream cheese.

  “You won this.” Without cracking a smile, Nick reached under the counter and pulled out a lighted, reindeer antler headband to match the one he wore at the race.

  Aaron’s face lit up. “I did beat you, didn’t I?”

  “Square,” Nick answered. He smiled when Aaron put the antlers on and pressed the button to turn on the lights. “I’m still not sure about fair.”

  “Such a sore loser,” Aaron scoffed. “And a momma’s boy.”

  “Takes one to know one,” Nick tossed back.

  They mock-glared at each other, and then Aaron returned to devouring his bagel. His hearty appetite made Nick pause. Aaron had recovered suspiciously quickly from his earlier, dramatic distress.

  In fact, Nick would say he seemed downright smug. “What are you grinning at?” he asked.

  “You,” Aaron bagel-mumbled.

  Yep. Smug was the word. “Oh yeah?”

  “You’re my secret weapon.” Aaron wiped his hands and face on a napkin before he crossed his arms and, with a lean against Nick’s workspace, crossed his ankles as well. “I should put you on speed dial.”

  Nick froze, his brain momentarily knocked offline while forced to decide whether to hand over his phone number, stare at the biceps protesting the confines of their fine-knit prison, or focus on those damn runner’s thighs. Who was he kidding? Thighs for the win.

  Maybe that was the reason his mouth continued without his mind’s input. “Well, enjoy me while you can, big guy. I won’t be around much longer.”

  “What?” Aaron stood up so fast the motion made Nick’s vision blur. “Why?”

  Nick shrugged. He stared down to the basket and away from Aaron’s shocked expression. “I only switched shifts for the month. Once the lab hours go back to normal, so will my schedule.”

  “Oh.”

  Aaron didn’t say anything else while Nick wrapped the completed basket in plastic and dragged the ribbon across his scissors to form curlicues.

  “I can’t believe we never talked about this. What is your regular schedule?” Aaron’s voice was rougher than Nick had ever heard it, and his stomach twisted up more than the ribbon when Aaron yanked the headband off his head and dropped it on the counter.

  With a weird flashback to when he gave this same speech to Amanda, Nick recited all the reasons his life was pathetic. “I work here six days a week, eight until four a.m. I crash until ten. Then I hit campus about noon for three hours’ worth of lab or library. Have dinner, then go to my campus job in the computer lab from four to seven.”

  “That’s crazy.” Aaron’s expression of horror was mirrored in his voice. “I had more time off in law school.”

  “My dad jokes I’ll sleep after I graduate.” Nick wanted Aaron to smile at his lame joke, but nope. Instead he patted the reindeer headband and appeared to be thinking. Hard.

  “When is your last day?” he finally asked.

  “A week from Friday.” Nick fussed with the curling ribbon until he stabbed his finger with the scissors. “Ow.”

  Nick sucked on the injured digit and then gave both it and himself a shake. Well, one physical, one mental. He put a deliberately cheerful note in his voice. “So don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to say goodbye.” Maybe he’d gather his nerve up by then and ask Aaron out, despite his plan to wait until after graduation. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere. You can visit me before you run, not after.”

  “You bet.” Aaron threw away his trash and fumbled for his wallet without meeting Nick’s eyes. “How much do I owe you?”

  The current between them, so electric a few moments ago, now seemed flat and tense. Nick wanted to say something, anything, to make Aaron smile again, to get him to look at him. He just didn’t know what. Instead he quietly scanned the tags from the basket contents.

  “I’m running late, so I got to go.” Aaron shifted from one foot to the other, a display of nerves Nick hadn’t seen in their interactions since the beginning. “Thanks for all your help, Nick.” He picked up the basket and headed to the exit, his shoulders slumped beneath his sweater.

  “Aaron, wait,” Nick said. Aaron had already pushed the door open. The mocking ho ho ho echoed through the store, and the blast of cold air froze Nick all the way down to his bones. He swallowed, unable to force out the words he wanted most to say. “You forgot your headband.”

  “Keep it,” Aaron said. “It looked better on you anyway.”

  The door swung shut behind him, blocking the elements. But the solid chunk of ice inside Nick remained.

  VII

  NICK SLOUCHED against the counter, the clock on his phone ticking the moments away in an echo of his glum resignation. The floors were mopped, the coffee brewed, including three pots of peppermint mocha, and the shelves restocked. Nothing to do but wait.

  This was his final morning on this shift. His last chance to see Aaron and find out what had gone wrong between them. Call him stupid if you wanted, Nick thought they had become—well, all hopeful fantasies aside—at least friends.

  Friends could meet up outside of Nick’s place of employment. Friends talked, laughed, and spent time together. And maybe, in another few months when Nick graduated and started a career worth taking pride in, a friend might ask Aaron out on a date.

  But Aaron refused to cooperate. Days had passed since he’d shown up with his crazy request for another gift idea and brightened Nick’s day. Hell, his life if he was honest. Nick kicked his foot against his support. As much as Nick looked forward to the return of his regular schedule, he hated the thought of never seeing Aaron’s sunshine smile each weekday morning.

  Where did things derail? Did he say or do something to make Aaron uncomfortable? Was Aaron working a big case? Did transactional lawyers—yes, he googled the term—have cases like on television?

  What if Aaron had an accident? Nick pictured him hurt and in the hospital. He wouldn’t ever know. Nick slumped even lower, clunking his head against the thick rubber demagnetizing mat. Seemed Aaron’s flair for the dramatic had rubbed off.

  He wasn’t obsessing. Nope. Nick had plenty to keep busy. Customers to ring up, plans to make, and the ultimate suck: a paper to turn in after the holiday break. Nick frowned, reluctantly hauling himself upright when a customer approached. He scanned in a jumbo fountain drink, a bag of pork rinds, and three chocolate bars. Not the breakfast of champions.

  Back to his paper. Even with the internet at his fingertips, the research requirements meant library time, a deliberate, sadistic ploy by his instructor. During freaking Christmas. Whatever happened to holiday spirit?

  Nick opened his Notes app, determined to focus on something other than Aaron. So, library hours. He needed to get in and out before the rest of his classmates made off with the materials he’d need. Next on his list was wrapping paper for the gifts he’d already purchased. His mom had volunteered him to make cookies for the family get-together after the Christmas Eve church service, which meant stopping by his parents’ house and raiding their cupboards to save money at the grocery store.

  He could drop his laundry off at the same time. If he mixed his clothes in, no one would notice until folding time. Nick allowed himself an evil snicker at the thought of his little sister’s screams of outrage at finding his boxers in with her undies. Some days it wa
s good to be the oldest.

  A couple of semiregulars approached the register. Nick offered a half-hearted smile and set the phone down. Large coffee and two donuts for each.

  He stared into space, blanking their comments while they swiped their credit cards. His thoughts returned to the carefully wrapped package in his backpack with Aaron’s name on the label. The silver running shoe tie tack wasn’t much, but he wanted to make Aaron smile. He also liked the thought of Aaron wearing a reminder of Nick throughout his day.

  Except he wouldn’t. Nick checked his phone for the umpteenth time, his heart sinking. 5:45 a.m. and no Aaron. His lips pressed into a thin line of disappointment, Nick pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear and scanned the next customer’s items. Only a couple more hours. He could do this.

  VIII

  TIME PASSED. That was the best Nick could say. He said goodbye to a few of his favorites, surprised when the Dragon Lady herself offered him a pleasant smile and good wishes. Darla’s fierce hug left him unexpectedly emotional, and he promised her he’d stop by the senior center and play backgammon with some of the guys over his break.

  Hmm, he’d better make another couple dozen cookies.

  Nick kept adding to his Notes app. He was going to have plenty to do while school was out. So much he wouldn’t have to time to miss Mr. Crush-My-Heart-Under-His-Adorably-Scuffed-Loafers.

  Finally, Amanda and Blaine arrived. His shift was over, his hopes squashed with an official denied stamp. Forget his list, he’d crawl home and have some quality couch time. Not that they were going to let him slide out the door that easily.

  “Look, Nick!” Amanda pushed past a couple of customers and held up her hand. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

  Nick stared at the gold and diamond ring and then at Blaine. A Blaine minus his beanie, and—if Nick paid more attention than he had in weeks—with a new haircut and neatly pressed jeans and T-shirt under his winter jacket. “What?”