The Holiday Hoax (5 page)

Oh, God
, the way JD stared, as if to devour me whole. Despite his words, his gaze said something else. It was hot and fiery. Tension sparked between us. Something warm coiled in my belly in return. My cock started to harden. I wanted to draw JD to me. Kiss him. Touch him.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“And anyway….” JD whispered too. “You’re still into Tyler, right? And I’m not him.”

I didn’t know how to respond. JD was so open. I was used to guys guarding their feelings more and being flippant. I wanted to tell JD that I had no reason to want him to be Tyler. All Tyler had ever done was cut me down, but I couldn’t get the words out. I darted a glance at my sister. “All right, you two,” I raised my voice. “Too much PDA. You shouldn’t be so happily kissing. You’re the losers.”

“You got lucky,” Courtney answered, giving a beaming Noah one final kiss. I was careful not to look at JD, although I was hyperaware of how close JD still stood to me and how tense his body seemed.

“Fuck that. It was skill.”

“It was Tyler,” Courtney said, but with an easy smile of forgiveness. “He used some sneak attack.”

For a split second, my mind went blank on the name “Tyler.”

It’s JD
, I wanted to say to Courtney. It was becoming impossible for me to think of JD as Tyler. He was so different. I had been attracted to Tyler—anybody with eyes would be attracted to Tyler—but JD was bringing out all these other emotions.

But what if I let him inside, showed him who I really was, and it wasn’t enough? I massaged my temples. What giant mess had I created?

“Kids? Where are you all?”

“Here, Mom!”

“Oh.” My mom stepped outside, wrapping a scarf around her neck. “Boy, it’s getting chilly. Come on in, guys. I have hot chocolate made. And Dad called. He and Ann are almost back.”

I
T
WAS
not the first night of Hanukkah, but it was the first night all my family gathered. My parents insisted on waiting to celebrate. Before my dad brought out the menorah, we all had to be together. They believed the holidays could not officially start until we were all here, and as they weren’t Orthodox, they ignored the calendar in that same spirit. More religious families might criticize that, but every family should be faithful to its heart. Dad dusted off the menorah and placed the colorful candles nearby. My dad had greeted JD, if a little stiffly, since this was the first guy I had brought home, and unlike my mom and sisters, my dad wasn’t eager to see me dating, which I suspect made the gay thing all too real for him. Nor did my dad ask about my latest play. If it wasn’t a bargain store or a baseball score, my dad had little interest. He was an actuary, spending his days with numbers and statistics. No matter how hard I tried not to let it, his lack of attention hurt my feelings. Expectations and family mixed together often ended with pain.

I handed JD a yarmulke.

“You don’t have to wear it.”

“No, it’s good.” JD gave me a goofy smile and put it on his head. My heart jump-started. How sweet JD was. How tough he looked on the outside, with his dark looks and often sad eyes, but how untrue it was. I considered that JD was a better actor than he thought. If he ever wanted to give up the whole science thing, I might be able to audition with him.

As Dad recited the blessing, I lit the menorah. We were not that religious, especially since my parents were from different backgrounds, but we did enjoy celebrating the holidays. I gazed over at JD and tried not to stare too long at him. JD’s features were softer in the candlelight. I immediately sensed that I could watch him for hours and never tire. He was tugging the yarmulke, smiling. Then our gazes locked, and I had the weirdest desire to tell him every secret inside my heart.

It was ridiculous, I knew. After Tyler, I should be more cautious, not less.

Once the prayers were over, we all sat down to eat. My mom had outdone herself with a huge meal. We had latkes fried in oil and served with fresh applesauce, a brisket swimming in rich gravy, and a beautiful fruit salad with sherbet for dessert. Of course, my parents couldn’t resist telling the same old embarrassingly lame stories about early Hanukkahs in the Goodman household, concluding with the one where my mom had told us that a light was inside every person, and I had promptly replied, “Mine is a disco ball.”

After the dinner our neighbors, the Cohens, arrived to play dreidel. My dad took his dreidel seriously. Despite the fact that the game’s prizes consisted of chocolate money and pennies, losing for the Goodman family was not an option. Dad sulked for days whenever we lost. He and Mr. Cohen had a huge competition every year, with my family against the four Cohen kids. I explained to JD the rules of the game, demonstrated my best spin on the dreidel, and the game began.

“Here we are at the annual Hanukkah dreidel competition. Who will be victorious this year, folks?” I held a pretend microphone to my lips. “Will it be the stalwart Cohens or the zany Goodmans who emerge as champions?”

“Not the announcer voice again,” Ann groaned. “Didn’t you do that one last year? Just quit it.”

“Yeah, Evan, stop showing Tyler what a true geek you are,” Courtney said.

“He already knows.” I shrugged.

“I’m a geek too. A science one,” JD said.

“What do you mean?” Courtney frowned slightly. “I thought you are in drama like Evan?”

At JD’s caught expression, I quickly continued to annoy my sisters. “If you want to vote for the Cohens, text number one, the Goodmans, text two. We’ll also have the instant save on Twitter. Stand by for that.”

“Will you shut up?” Courtney groaned, forgetting JD’s slip.

“Let him alone.” My mom, who never played in the dreidel battles, defended me. She kissed the side of my cheek.

“Favorite,” Courtney said, snapping her gum.

“Jealous.”

“I adore you both,” Mom said. “Now stop bickering, or I’ll send you both to your bedrooms.”

I knew my mom had indulged me a lot growing up. But it wasn’t favoritism really. Courtney and Ann simply had an easier time in school. I had been teased by more than one kid for being a “sissy.” I’d gotten through those rocky years with the support of my mom and through escaping into the one place I felt truly safe: the stage.

We tossed pennies in the pot, and Courtney couldn’t resist opening some chocolate Hanukkah gelt as we played too, for she had a terrible sweet tooth, but for the most part, everybody was deadly quiet. My dad spun and got nothing. Ann did the same. The Cohens’ son Steven was next and got half the pot. My father’s mouth flattened. JD spun next.

“You can do it,” I said.

“Let him concentrate.”

“Sorry, Dad. Geez.”

I rolled my eyes, and JD smiled. He bent low, the dreidel grasped between his fingers. He had strong hands, I noted, the nails clean and square, his fingers long and capable-looking.

JD spun the dreidel with a good flick of his wrist. It spun and spun, seeming to never end. My entire family held our breath. The dreidel finally began to wobble and then revealed a gimel—a winning spin! I couldn’t stop from cheering as JD looked at us.

“Was it good?”

“It’s the best. You won.”

“Oh! I forgot what the symbols all mean.”

“You did great, Tyler,” Ann said. “It takes a while to keep that straight.”

“I forget almost every year,” I said. “Go on. Take the winnings.”

A big grin crossed JD’s face. I cheered again as JD took the rest of the pot.

“Ante up!” Mr. Cohen said. “We’re not finished yet!”

“Go, team!”

We all anted up some more chocolate and pennies. The game continued, both families having some good spins, but my family was ultimately victorious.

“It was you, Tyler. You’re a dreidel prodigy,” my dad said.

“Wow. The ultimate praise,” Courtney chortled.

JD looked surprised as Dad clapped him on the back. “I want you on the team again next year.”

My throat crammed with emotion. I wanted JD here next year too. We might not become boyfriends, but I liked him. I wanted JD to stay in my life.

“Here.” JD handed me a piece of gelt. “Share my loot.”

I freed the chocolate from its golden foil and chewed it slowly, savoring the sweet taste as well as the soft look in JD’s eyes.

We played another round for fun. Ann won this time, but she left soon afterward to go and meet Petra again. The rest of us hung around for about an hour or so when Courtney called it quits.

“Okay, Mom and Dad, we ate, we played dreidel, and we have seven more nights of it all.” She took her coat off the coatrack and grinned. “Noah just phoned me. There’s a band tonight at the restaurant he works at. Do you guys want to come along?”

I looked at JD, and he nodded.

“We’re out of here,” Courtney told our folks.

“As long as you’re all home before midnight,” Dad said.

“And it’s not the Kit Kat Club.” Mom added, winking at JD. “Okay, Tyler?”

“Er—right.” JD stood there helplessly lost.

My mom’s brow furrowed slightly. “From
Cabaret
? Evan said you love that musical. That it’s your favorite.”

“It
was
his favorite, Mom.” I rushed between them. “Eons ago. He never listens to
Cabaret
anymore. Who does? It’s outdated and corny.”

“What do you listen to now?”

“
Wicked.
His new favorite is
Wicked.”

“Evan, I wasn’t asking you. I was asking Tyler. Don’t be so rude. Why do you like
Wicked
, Tyler? I haven’t seen it.”

“I like how… wicked… everybody is?”

I shut my eyes at JD’s uncertain answer.

“And the action stuff,” JD continued, trying to sound more certain. “Yeah, I like that too.”

My mom placed her hand on her hips. She opened her mouth to ask more questions—

“We can talk musicals later, Mom. We gotta go.”

N
OAH
HAD
saved us a table near the keyboard player, and we collapsed onto the hard wooden bench. The guitarist was good, the singer a little pitchy, but overall for a free band, their sound was decent.

“I like them,” JD said. “I can’t remember the last time I heard some music.”

Recalling his remark about being a “science geek,” and knowing that JD had been in the closet until now, I wondered how much he’d gone out at all.

“Glad you’re having fun.”

The air smelled of fried food, and the kitchen appeared smoky as the door swung open and a waiter brought some appetizers to us, good greasy onion rings and mozzarella sticks. I hoped the place wouldn’t catch fire. That would be a lousy way to end what had been a good night. I was having fun too, I realized, being there with JD. I didn’t feel the need to try and impress him like I’d had to do with Tyler.

I took a sip of my soda. The band began another song, louder than the first one.

“I’ll be right back,” Courtney shouted over the music. “I want to talk to Noah for a second.”

“Okay,” I shouted in return.

JD nodded. He drummed his fingers on the table, smiling. But as soon as Courtney left us, he turned and looked at me.

“Thanks.”

“For what? Stale soda and my annoying sister?” I tried to joke. The song changed to a softer melody, and we could stop shouting.

JD dipped an onion ring into some mustard. “For that, and for taking me home when everything went bad.”

“Well, it’s nothing.” I flushed. “You’re doing me a favor too. Remember? Tyler—”

“Come on, Evan.”

“What?”

“Don’t pretend it’s about Tyler. I know you invited me home because of what you witnessed between me and Shawn. You might have not wanted to tell your family the truth about Tyler, but you could have done it. We both know they would have been cool with it. You asked me home because that’s how you are, Ev.”

“Well…” My stomach flipped in excitement at his shortened use of my name.

“You’re a good guy, and nobody’s ever done anything so nice for me before.” He shifted and bent toward my ear. “Thank you,” he whispered.

I was startled. The warmth of JD’s soft breath touched my earlobe, and it tingled there. I played with the edge of my napkin, tearing the corner a little. “Don’t keep on thanking me. It might have started out as my being nice, JD, but I’m honestly happy you came.” I swallowed hard. “I like having you here. You must know that I—”

“Hey!” A shout from behind us cut me off. “Evan Goodman, right?”

Ice raced down my spine. I
knew
that voice.

Reluctantly, I turned. It was Michael Dobson all right. One of the many kids who’d made sure to make my middle school years hellish. He hadn’t been the leader, but Dobson had eagerly joined in the name-calling and pranks that were supposed to be “just fun.” He’d moved away in high school, and another dumb jock had taken his place. High school, because it was so large, had been easier for me than middle school. But those years with Dobson and the others… just remembering had me breaking into a cold sweat. I resisted the urge to cringe.

“What do you want?” I asked softly, and JD looked at me. I knew my voice sounded odd and strained. I changed positions in my seat so that my back was ramrod straight. Every instinct inside me was to get up and run, but I’d never cower in front of guys like Dobson again.

“Nothing, listen—” Dobson stumbled for words.

I didn’t want to listen. I only wanted Michael Dobson to go away. We weren’t in school together now. I wasn’t jailed with him day after day. Not anymore. I wanted to tell Dobson that, to order him to
leave me the fuck alone
, but all I managed was a small shake of my head, my insides churning. For a guy who loved to talk, being picked on always made my throat close.

At least I looked better than I had in middle school. My braces were off, I’d replaced my glasses, and while I was no giant and never would be, I wasn’t supershort. Still, if there were real justice in the world, Michael Dobson would soon lose his looks and have a face like a zombie reject.