Page 50 of His Secret Santa
Holden squeezed his eyes shut. I want you too. A part of him still believed this was just a “stripper”—and not the boy of his dreams. Yet, his silent confession wasn’t in response to a random stripper.
A sense of déjà vu came over Holden when the stripper slid down his body and sank to his knees between Holden’s legs and unfastened his pants.
Why are you letting this go on? Why aren’t you confronting him—like you promised Jamie?
In Holden’s sexually hazed brain, the questions seemed almost ridiculous. Why was he letting it happen? Maybe because he’d fantasized about this for four fucking years? After everything, wasn’t he allowed a little piece of his fantasy come to life… before he shut it down forever?
And you’ll be okay with that after it’s all said and done?
He wouldn’t be okay with anything after it was over, so what the fuck did it matter if he indulged a bit beforehand? He deserved to get something out of this… didn’t he?
Just when he was sure he’d reasoned himself into a fuck-fest, all his fantasies of Lincoln Pratt came back to him in an instant, flooding his head, overwhelming his mind. Reality came crashing down like a wrecking ball, striking him square in the chest.
Holden gasped as his breath escaped him and he grabbed the stripper’s hands, halting their progress as the young man began unzipping Holden’s pants. “W-wait,” Holden rasped, his voice shaky.
Raising his head, the stripper looked at him with uncertainty. “Is something wrong?” His voice trembled as badly as Holden’s, coarse with sexual need.
Is something wrong? Hysterical laughter nearly burst from Holden, but he swallowed it instead. Holden slid away from the stripper’s touch and left the chair.
“Are you okay?” the young man asked softly with genuine concern. Or so it seemed.
Holden turned his back to the man. His eyes burned with hot tears. “I…” He swallowed. “The last few days have been kind of… shitty.” His chin trembled. “I-I almost didn’t come here tonight.”
The stripper moved up behind him and lightly gripped his bare shoulders. He touched his lips to the back of Holden’s head. “I’m glad you did,” he whispered, followed by a long pause before he asked with a barely notable tremor, “What happened… that made things so shitty?”
Why were they dragging this out? Holden didn’t have the answer, but he couldn’t seem to take that step and unmask the man.
“How… how much do you remember from the first time we met?”
The stripper nuzzled his hair. “Everything.”
“So… so you remember me mentioning the… the quarterback?”
The young man tensed. “Yes.”
Holden slid his arms around himself, his throat working. He spoke of McKenna’s invite to the party, Lincoln’s rebuttal in the parking lot, and everything that happened at the party… minus mention of the tattoo.
“I don’t care what they did to me,” he whispered thickly. “What hurt was… was what he said to them. He didn’t care that they’d humiliated me, he was just worried how it would affect him. So scared of the rumors that might start up about him.” Holden bit his lower lip, his chin trembling harder. “I used to pray he would see me, acknowledge my existence. Now… I wish I was invisible to him again.” He fought the sob forcing up his throat. “I’d rather he not know I was alive… than have him see me and… and hate me.”
The stripper’s grip on his shoulders tightened as the young man grew rigid with tension. “Maybe…” he rasped heavily. “Maybe… he didn’t want you at the party because he knew what his girlfriend would do. Maybe he was trying to… to protect you.”
Holden exhaled shakily. “That’s a nice thought, but… but that’s not why he told me to stay away. He just didn’t want a faggot at his party, in his house, because of the potential rumors.” He sniffed. “He was only concerned about himself.”
The young man pressed his lips to Holden’s head. “Things aren’t always as they appear,” he whispered, his breath unsteady. “Sometimes… circumstances can… can force a person to be someone they’re not. You never really know what people are struggling with… beneath the surface.”
And that gives you the right to treat me bad—because you’re struggling?
Holden pulled away from him and put a few steps between them before turning around. “When you asked me to come back,” he whispered thickly, “you said you would tell me all your secrets.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “I’m here.”
Fear and anxiety crept into the stripper’s eyes. A shaky breath escaped him. “You are.”
When he just stared at Holden, forming no more words, Holden walked closer. His heart pounded as a terror of his own consumed him. “You can start by…” His throat worked. “… removing your mask and… showing your face.”
Chapter 15
Remove your mask and show your face.
This had been the plan all along; to reveal his identity to Holden. But that was before things had turned to shit days ago. He’d had it all figured out, what he would say. He’d meant for this to be his Secret Santa gift to Holden.