by Kim Fielding
“One of my sisters got it free as part of some promotion at work. I watch games maybe twice a year, which made me a big fan in her eyes, so she gave it to me.”
The cotton felt soft and cozy against Uri’s skin. “I got recruited for my high school basketball team.”
“Makes sense. You’re tall.”
“Yeah. I hit my growth spurt early. I was six feet at fourteen. However, I also sucked at basketball. The coach tried but eventually had to give me up as hopeless.” Uri had tended to drop the ball and trip over his own feet.
“I didn’t even try any sports.” Oscar flashed a grin. “I was on the debate team.”
After their dinner arrived, Oscar arrayed the feast on his kitchen table: pot stickers, eggrolls, kung pao chicken, broccoli beef, stir-fried noodles with vegetables, and rice. He opened two bottles of Anchor Steam.
“This is a lot of food.” Uri looked at the impressive pile on his plate.
Another blush from Oscar. “I think I got carried away. It’s been a while since I had dinner with someone else.” He ducked his head and poked a carrot with his chopstick.
“This is really nice of you. Thank you.”
Oscar caught his gaze for a moment. “Just being a good neighbor.”
As they ate, Uri took a more thorough look around. Oscar’s floor plan was a mirror image of Uri’s. If Uri hadn’t known already, he’d never guess that Oscar had lived here less than a month. The walls held nicely framed photos of the ocean and an old-fashioned roller coaster, as well as a black-and-white photo of a tiny stucco house with Mission-style clay roof tiles. An area rug brightened the floor near the sink, and a collection of coffee mugs hung from hooks beneath the upper cabinet. A homey kitchen, comfortable and cheerful. The rest of the condo was like that too, with unfussy furniture and bright knickknacks.
“Are you from Modesto originally?” Uri asked.
“Nah. San Diego. But I got a job here. How about you? Chicago?”
“Yes, childhood and college. Then I lived in the Bay Area. I ended up here for a job too, after my divorce from Tobias.” Uri winced. That might have been more detail than Oscar wanted.
“How long ago was that?” Oscar looked concerned, not annoyed.
“A year ago.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“Thanks, but it was for the best.” At least so he’d tried to convince himself. Uri took a big bite of kung pao chicken and ended up with a mouthful of hot chili. He barely cooled the burn with some rice and a swallow of beer.
“So you were, uh, making candles?” Oscar’s head was cocked to the side like a curious puppy’s, his eyes wide as if in anticipation of a good tale. He managed to pull off adorable and sexy at the same time, which really wasn’t fair.
“I didn’t get very far. Only melting the wax.”
“Is it a hobby?”
Uri barked a laugh. “No, this was my first and last attempt at that particular endeavor.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who made candles.”
“You still haven’t. I just set my house on fire.” Uri sighed and put down his fork. “Hanukkah starts in four nights. I couldn’t find any candles locally, so I was going to order them online. But then….” This part was going to sound stupid. “This will be my first year celebrating alone. I wanted to do something to make it sort of special, you know?” He wanted it to feel like a real holiday and not simply something that came in a box from Amazon.
“Sure, I get it.” Was there something wistful in his expression?
“My parents gave me a menorah when I moved away.” Shit. It was ruined now. He sighed as he decided there was no use dwelling on it. “I thought homemade candles would be kind of special. And in the YouTube videos, they didn’t look that hard to make. But I underestimated my klutziness.”
Oscar’s gaze had softened. “That’s really sweet. Not the conflagration part. But you made an effort to honor your parents and your family memories. I like that.”
Put that way, Uri’s attempt didn’t seem stupid at all, even if he’d failed at it. His insides warmed, and not just from the chilies. “So, um, you work for the city?”
“I could tell you what I do, but your eyes will glaze over before I’ve finished. I’m warning you.”
How could Uri not smile along with him? “Try me. I’m an IT guy. I spend most of my day cleaning viruses off faculty computers.”
That seemed to please Oscar, who relaxed his shoulders and leaned back in his chair, beer bottle in hand. “Traffic engineer.”
“So you….”
“Plan the construction projects that make you late to work. Or turn a blind eye to massive potholes and death-trap intersections. Oh, and I do sewage systems too.”
“Ah, so you’re a powerful man.”
Although Oscar laughed, another blush said he liked the compliment. Uri found Oscar’s blushes endearing, and he wondered whether Oscar’s chest also turned that fetching shade in the throes of passion.
Which was not relevant right now.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, although they kept catching each other’s gaze. Despite the circumstances, Uri couldn’t remember when he’d had a more pleasant meal. Usually he got drive-through burgers or nuked something from his freezer, and he ate alone. He should have invited Oscar over for dinner before this.
Oscar walked to the fridge. “Another beer?”
“Better not, thanks. I have to drive tonight.” Without a license. Well, he’d just hope he didn’t get pulled over.
“Right. Where will you go?”
Uri winced. “My office. I’ll camp out there.” He might even have enough change in his desk to buy coffee in the morning.
“That sounds miserable. Stay here instead.” Another blush detonated, the brightest of them all. “My couch is pretty comfy.”
Oh, that was mighty tempting. “I’ve put you out enough already.”
Oscar’s expression grew serious. “You haven’t put me out at all. I’m enjoying the company. I’m actually feeling pretty guilty about benefiting from your misfortune.”
He seemed sincere, and Uri didn’t have it in him to refuse. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” He grinned. “And I guess now I’ll take that second beer.”
HE HAD more than two beers. In fact, he had… six? He’d lost track, but a small forest of bottles sat on Oscar’s coffee table, and Uri was pretty sure that the majority were his. Ordinarily he didn’t drink in excess, but Oscar kept handing him Anchor Steams, and the day’s events seemed worthy of drunkenness. They chatted as they drank, and Oscar found them a wonderfully awful movie to watch. Although they sat close to each other on the couch, they didn’t touch. Uri relaxed so thoroughly that he pretty much became one with the cushions.
“It’s Wednesday,” Uri realized blurrily and belatedly. “You have to work tomorrow.”
“I’m calling in sick.” Oscar gave a credible fake cough.
“Why?”
“In case you need anything. Besides, with Christmas coming up, the office is dead. Everyone’s taking next week off, and nobody’s getting anything accomplished until after New Year’s. Are you on vacation?”
Uri had to think about this for a moment. “College is on break. Usually that’s a good time to do system upgrades, but those can wait a day.”
“Good. Then we can sleep in.”
We and sleep in the same sentence. Uri liked that more than he should have. God, between the alcohol and today’s adventures, his brain was a mess. He should probably sleep now, in fact. Except he was having a really good time simply hanging out with Oscar. He stifled a yawn.
One thought did make its way to clarity: Oscar had no holiday decorations except for the wreath and lighted shrub out front and some cards displayed over the gas fireplace. That struck Uri as odd. Oscar seemed like the decorating type.
“Are you heading down to San Diego for Christmas?”
Oscar shook his head. “Most of the family is in Mexico for the holi
days. My abuela still lives there, plus lots of aunts and uncles and cousins. It’s always chaos.” His yearning smile suggested he missed the chaos.
“You’re not going?”
“Nah. Too soon after the move, you know? I need to settle in more first.”
Uri held up his latest bottle, even though it was empty. “Here’s to those of us stuck in Modesto while our people are far away.”
Oscar grabbed his own beer and clanked them together.
Then Uri kissed him.
It wasn’t a huge kiss. No tongue, no lingering press of lips. Just… mwah. That was it. Sort of sloppy because the angle wasn’t great and his aim sucked. But oh, it made his body tingle.
A split second later, Uri felt horrified. What if Oscar hadn’t wanted to be kissed? What if Uri had been reading those lingering glances all wrong, and Oscar was sympathetic but not into him? What if—
Oscar kissed him back.
This was a medium kiss—with lingering—and with the added bonus of Oscar’s fingers in Uri’s tangled curls. It tasted of beer and chilies and was not at all sloppy; it was sweet and warm and completely amazing. That body tingle? It turned into a full-blown buzz, sort of like the time Uri had stuck a fork in the toaster, only way nicer.
Oscar pulled back slightly. “You’re not in the best frame of mind for this.”
“I don’t care. Don’t be a gentleman, Oscar. You have my full consent to take advantage of me. Please?” He was absolutely not above begging.
But Oscar only laughed and rose to his feet. “Rain check. If I take advantage of you, I want both of us to be fully compos mentis. I want it to be memorable.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Ugh. But he had a good point. Uri silently ordered his libido to stand down. Poor libido. Uri had been mostly ignoring it for months, and now when it finally thought it had a chance to play, Oscar was being mature. And responsible. Double ugh.
“What if you don’t want me when we’re sober?”
“I’ve wanted you since the moment we met. I don’t expect future sobriety to change that.”
Oh. Well, then.
Oscar brought him a pillow and enough blankets to survive a blizzard. He helped Uri get everything set up, then handed him a toothbrush still in its package and a sample-sized toothpaste. “Goodies from my recent dentist visit.”
“You have very nice teeth,” Uri assured him.
That made Oscar laugh, which was nice. “You know where the towels are. I left a comb on the bathroom counter. Anything else you need to get through the night?”
“You,” Uri said wistfully. Now that he’d clarified his feelings for Oscar, might as well continue to be fully up-front.
“I’ll be one room away. And Uri? If something is going to work between us—if we’re going to build something together—there’s no hurry. We have our whole lifetime.”
URI WOKE up when he fell out of bed and then had to fight his way free from a tangle of blankets. He didn’t understand where he was until the memories rushed back. The fire. The kisses. An odd mixture of emotions hit him, and as he sat on the couch, trying to make sense of them, Oscar sauntered into the room. He wore an old T-shirt and flannel sleep pants, and his hair was an adorable mess. “Sleep okay?” he asked.
Uri was going to answer—without mentioning the falling-off-the-couch part—but then Oscar yawned and stretched, distracting him. It made Uri think of lazy snuggling and all the other things he’d been missing since the divorce. He ended up just nodding stupidly.
“Breakfast?”
Yes, Uri wanted that. And lunch and dinner and definitely some dessert. But he needed to get his life in order. “No, thanks. I’m going to head to the phone store.” Where maybe they would talk to the credit card company and sell him a replacement phone.
“I’ll come with. And then we can go out for brunch.”
Well, Uri couldn’t very well refuse that.
He showered first and then put on a new set of borrowed clothing as Oscar showered and dressed. They took Oscar’s car, since he was the only one who currently possessed a driver’s license.
The day marched on. They got the new phone. They stopped by the DMV, where they had to wait an hour for Uri’s turn; he finally left with a temporary license. Back at the condo, Uri spoke to his insurance agent and a bunch of other people. He had a long conversation with the condo manager, who scolded him for starting the fire but gave him referrals for contractors. And then, of course, he spoke with the contractors. They didn’t want to work over the holidays, despite his wheedling. It would be mid-January before his home was livable again, and even then he’d face the daunting task of acquiring new furnishings, new kitchenware, new everything. Just thinking about it made him want to hide in a cave.
Except…. Oscar remained at his side all day, smiling and joking and making faces when people on the other end of phone conversations were being difficult. After the calls were complete, Oscar and Uri went to a great place for brunch. Oscar talked him into ordering a weird omelet with peanut butter and apples in it—which actually tasted amazing. And dammit, it was impossible to feel miserable in Oscar’s cheerful, sexy presence. It was like those cartoons where some poor schlump walked around with a storm cloud over his head, only instead of a storm cloud, Uri had his own personal beaming sun.
He was starting to regret missing out on an entire month of knowing Oscar. Why hadn’t Uri been more neighborly as soon as Oscar moved in?
After brunch they checked the mail at their condos, where Uri’s replacement credit card awaited him. He broke it in fifteen minutes later at Target, where Oscar happily helped him fill a cart with toiletries, socks, boring underwear, a pair of inexpensive sneakers, a lightweight jacket, two pairs of jeans, a few T-shirts, and a suitcase to house everything. After that, Uri used his new phone to order a replacement laptop online and got a good discount through the college.
Now they sat across from each other at a nice little restaurant downtown, a huge appetizer platter between them. Uri had trouble taking his gaze off Oscar’s lips. He’d had a taste of that mouth and wanted a lot more.
“You doing okay?” Oscar looked concerned.
Uri realized he’d sighed longingly. He decided to pretend it had more to do with his homelessness than Oscar’s kisses. “Just thinking what a disaster I’ve made of my life.”
“Not really. I mean, you’d made all sorts of arrangements to protect yourself in case of emergency, right? Insurance, data backups. And you’ve handled all the gory details today like a pro. The fire was a hiccup but not a….” He stopped himself with a snort. “I was going to say not a complete meltdown. Sorry.”
Maybe it was the giddy mix of emotions and hormones or maybe Oscar’s not-quite-successful attempt to look contrite. Whatever the cause, Uri collapsed into laughter so uncontrollable that he had to put his head down on the table—and right into a dish of Cajun spice dipping sauce. That only made him laugh more, and he couldn’t get it under control even when the waitress swooped in with a wad of napkins and gave him a you’re-an-idiot look. It didn’t help that Oscar was laughing as hard as Uri, both of them rendered so helpless that neither could tackle the mess on Uri or the table.
Uri was still chuckling as he wiped the last of the sauce off his ear. “Thank you.” He hoped his sincerity showed.
“For what?”
How to put it into words? “Um, turning my frown upside down? You’re a miracle.”
Oscar’s blush was so rosy that Uri could almost feel the heat of his skin. “Like the oil lasting for eight days?”
“Better. Because obviously I’m best off if I stay away from things related to fire.”
“And you don’t want to stay away from me?” Oscar’s expression was unusually serious.
“God, no.”
Oscar’s answering smile could have illuminated a score of biblical temples. “Then stay with me.” When Uri blinked at him uncomprehendingly, Oscar caught his hand. “I know you were thinking about sleeping in a hotel u
ntil your condo’s habitable, but don’t. Stay at my place instead.”
“Oscar—”
“If you say a single word about not wanting to impose on me, I’m going to throw my glass of water in your face.”
Uri grinned. “Maybe that’d wash away the rest of the Cajun sauce. But seriously, you hardly know me.”
“What I do know, I like. A lot. God, a man who can keep his head together and his sense of humor intact after losing everything in a fire? A guy who’s fun to spend time with even if all we’re doing is talking to cell phone salespeople? Also a miracle.”
It was Uri’s turn to blush. “I’m just trying to be practical,” he mumbled.
“And so am I! If you stay with me, you can keep an eye on the repairs at your place. Plus you won’t have to deal with all the hassles of hotels. Unlike a room at the Holiday Inn Express, I have a fully equipped kitchen and free laundry facilities. You’ll have more room to spread out and nobody slamming doors or having drunken conversations in the middle of the night.”
Good points, every one of them. And Uri always had trouble sleeping in hotels. Something was always wrong: curtains that let in the sunlight, plumbing that dripped, a mattress that was too hard or too soft, air conditioning that sounded like a jet engine, a smoke detector that blinked at him all night, sheets washed in detergent that made his nose itch. Still, he shook his head. “I can’t.”
Although Oscar frowned, he didn’t give up, and he continued to grip Uri’s hand. “I know, I know, committing to sharing a bed with me—way too soon. I’m the guy who lectured you last night about taking our time. But I have a second bedroom, you know. It’s kinda full of books and boxes at the moment, but I can move stuff around to fit in a bed and stuff. I’ll make it work. I’m an engineer.”
Uri wanted to say yes. Instead he squeezed Oscar’s hand before letting go. “Last night you wouldn’t take advantage of me even when I pleaded. Which was a disappointment then, but you made the right choice. If we’re going to… try for something bigger? I want it to be done right.”
