Pawliday Love

Roadtrip Christmas

ROADTRIP CHRISTMAS

T he sun still slumbers beneath the horizon. Birds sit silent in their nests; not even the earliest of them are awake. Darkness touches everything, shadowy fingers leaving swathes of ink-black behind. No sounds come from outdoors, no traffic on the streets or footfalls on the sidewalks. The world is quiet, asleep.

Except for Owen Harding.

He shoves one last outfit into his suitcase and snaps it closed. Wrapping his fingers around the handle, he carries it to the front door then goes to the bathroom for the hygiene bag he’d left on the counter. Finally, he’s ready, and he exits the apartment, locks the door behind him.

The drive takes only twenty minutes, and Owen doesn’t bother buzzing, just jiggles the door handle until the latch slips out of place. He steps into the building and strides down the long hall that echoes with his footsteps. A minute later, A5 stares back at him in peeling black paint, and he finds the key easily on the ring. Lets himself in. Walks through the dark apartment until he reaches the bedroom. A dog growls softly from inside, but otherwise, the room remains without noise.

“Get up,” he orders as he flips the light switch.

The man under the covers yelps then falls out of bed in a mass of flailing limbs and thin bedsheet. Owen bites the inside of his cheek as Finn fights for a moment longer against an invisible attacker, but then he stills and stares at the ceiling, panting. Owen laughs when Finn glares at him from where he’s twisted in his blanket on the floor. After a few seconds of Finn struggling to unwrap himself, Owen takes pity on his best friend and crosses the room. Finn, thankfully, lets Owen help if only to stop Cate from licking his face more.

“C’mon, get up,” Owen orders once Finn is untangled. “Get to packing.”

Finn’s yawn freezes in his throat, then he exhales quickly and coughs. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You heard me, Waters.”

When all Finn does is blink owlishly, Owen moves to the closet and starts to slide the door open. It immediately slips off its track, so he shoves it aside. He reaches for the shelf above the rods, pulling down a duffel bag that’s seen better days. All of Finn’s belongings have seen better days, and Owen hates that for the man he’s been friends with for over a decade.

“You just gonna stand there?” Owen asks with a slight grin.

Finn shakes his head and starts pulling clothes from the stack of bins he uses as a dresser. Owen finishes shoving six pairs of shirts into the duffel bag before grabbing a pair of jeans, ripped in the knees and worn soft. The men pack in silence, the quiet between them punctuated by Finn’s yawns. Finally, Owen zips the duffel bag closed and drapes the strap over his shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

“Where—Damn it, Owen, will you tell me what’s going on?”

“Just trust me, Finn.”

“For some reason, I do.”

Owen smiles, something in his chest tightening. All he says is “Then move your ass.”

“I can’t just leave Cate,” Finn protests, and the dog’s head cocks as if she senses something is happening.

“We’re not. She’s coming with us.”

Finn follows one step behind Owen through the dark apartment, where Owen slips Cate into her harness and hooks the leash to the ring. Finn locks the door behind them and allows Owen to lead the way down the hall to the door. He shoves the duffel bag into the trunk while Owen opens the backdoor for Cate to hop into the car. He slides in behind the steering wheel once she’s settled in the backseat.

The radio plays quietly as Owen points the wheels toward the nearest highway. To his credit, and to Owen’s surprise, Finn keeps his questions to himself for nearly two hours. Cate dozes behind them. The exhaustion written on his face explains his decorum. Eventually, though, Finn’s willpower wavers, and he turns in his seat as much as he’s able.

“Owen.”

“Finn.”

“Wanna tell me why you woke me up—Oh, God, it’s not even six yet.”

“I have plans for us.”

“If you don’t explain to me what is going on, I will jump out of this car while you’re going seventy-five.”

“You wouldn’t.”

But Finn would absolutely attempt it, even with his dog in the car. So Owen relents, signals to pull over onto the shoulder, and puts the car in park. With a heavy exhale, he stares at the lights stretching toward the dark. Finn clears his throat pointedly, his hand moving to the handle, and Owen hurries to press the door-lock button. He can’t put it off any longer. So he doesn’t.

“I know things have been rough lately, with you getting let go and... y’know…”

“And Alyse.” Finn jerks his gaze away from Owen's face. “You can say it, O. My girlfriend of seven years dumped me on my birthday without more than a rushed ‘I’m sorry’.”

“Right. That. Anyway. I had a few weeks of PTO saved up, so I’m taking advantage of it. You, Catey-girl, and I are going on a roadtrip.”

“I don’t?—”

“Just listen, Finn. You need a distraction. You’ve done nothing but, well, mope since things went to shit for you. So... This is me trying to be a good best friend and distract you.”

“The loneliness will still be there when the distraction is over,” Finn says softly. He still won’t meet Owen’s eye. “I appreciate the thought, Owen, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”

“Please, Finn. Try. For me?”

Finn gives a subtle dip of his chin, and Owen takes it as the victory it is. He pulls back onto the highway and glances at Finn. His best friend stares out the window, the edge of a fingernail between his teeth, a nervous habit he’s displayed since the two met. Owen clears his throat and mentions the pillows in the backseat. Finn nods, shifting in his seat, and reaches behind his seat. Cate grumbles but allows him to pull the pillow out from under her. He turns around a moment and a quiet apology later, and Owen listens to the rustle of fabric as Finn fluffs the pillow.

Only minutes later, Owen is left with his thoughts when Finn falls asleep.

For almost thirteen years, the two have been the best of friends. Finn was the first person Owen met when he first arrived at the latest in a line of schools. Owen hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of starting his junior year of high school as the new kid, but Finn made it easier. Finn made it alright. It hadn’t taken long for Owen to harbor a crush on his friend, but he’s never said anything about it. Why would he, when Finn has always been someone Owen can rely on? Why ruin that connection?

But now, as he glances over at Finn in the golden pink light of the rising sun, he remembers those feelings that plagued him and wonders if perhaps history isn’t as far away as he believes.

Finn wakes as Owen pulls up to a gas station pump three hours later. Bleary eyes find Owen, and Finn wipes a hand over his face to rid himself of the sleep he’s enjoyed. The men slide out of the car—Owen to pay for and pump the fuel into his brown-gray sedan, Finn to stretch his body and take Cate for a walk. Owen watches the pull of muscles growing taut before Finn relaxes, then forces himself to focus on the numbers speeding upwards on the display.

Despite his reservations about the trip, Finn takes over on driving duties. He scowls when Owen lies and says there is no final destination in mind. The only goal is to hit as many tourist traps as possible before his PTO is depleted—and to make Finn forget about his ex a little. Finn shakes his head but drops his phone back into the cup holder; no using his own GPS means no knowledge of the end destination, and he’s never been a fan of that. He’s always liked order.

The first place they stop is a roadside stand selling figs, squash, and cups of hot homemade cider. Owen pays for a bag of figs and two drinks. Finn accepts his styrofoam cup but doesn’t stop his conversation with the seller. They chat about gardening, about the farm the seller cares for, all the various people she’s met since opening the stand five years ago. Owen leans against the side of his car and sips at the cider while he watches Finn.

Finn who looks to be in his element, but of course he is. Finn is the sociable one. It’s what drew Peter, Jonna, Alyse… The sunshine of his personality drew them all to him in the first place.

The pair and the golden-bronze cocker spaniel get back on the road after another half-hour, and Owen blows out a breath as he settles in his seat. Seeing Finn so happy—the first true smile on his face since Alyse broke up with him five months prior—brings a warmth to Owen's chest. He reaches over to turn up the volume on the stereo, and a classic rock song plays. He sings along, ignoring how off-key he is, and Finn rolls his eyes with a grin curving his full lips. Owen smiles back before turning his attention to the trees zooming by outside the car.

Though they don’t speak often, it’s comfortable. The same quiet that’s always lingered between them, a familiarity born of years of friendship. Their first argument comes around lunchtime: Finn wants to go to a sit-down restaurant to get them out of the car, but Owen wants to grab a sandwich and chips from a gas station. He wins purely because of Cate and the fact she’d have to be left in the car. They compromise, however: Owen owes Finn something for dessert. Owen isn’t surprised. If there’s one thing Finn can’t refuse, it’s some sort of sweet treat.

The lady behind the counter doesn’t speak much as she rings up their purchases. There’s something in her demeanor that Owen doesn’t like, though he leaves the subject alone, even after he and Finn get back in the car amid licks to their faces. There’s no reason to bring it up and ruin the day, to give Finn an excuse to demand to go home. Thankfully, he hadn’t seemed to notice so Owen relaxes. Maybe he was just imagining things.

The headlights cut through the twilight mere hours later. On the edge of the world, orange bleeds to navy, pinpricks of white painted in the impending bruise-black sky. Owen glances at Finn, his mouth opening to speak, but the sight of his best friend asleep against the window brings him up short. With a quirk of his lips, Owen stays silent and continues driving.

After a night spent in a roadside motel room, into which they sneak Cate, they continue the drive. Conversation flows this time, topics they’ve discussed many times over the years, but they feel different today. Perhaps it’s the idea that this is all for Finn, that this is something Owen would never have done on his own but he’ll do whatever it takes to make Finn happy.

Owen's thoughts falter at that fact. He shakes his head and pushes it away.

Finn’s head rolls on his neck, and he stares at across the car at Owen. “Can I ask you something?”

Owen snorts and checks on Cate in the rearview mirror. “When have I ever said no to that?”

“It’s personal.”

“And that’s stopped you before?”

“Why...” Finn sighs, turns his head to gaze out the window. “Why haven’t you dated anyone since Mick?”

Owen barely breathes. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel, and his stomach lurches. Mick. A man he hasn’t thought about in five years. It was as amicable of a breakup as any, but Owen still aches with the loss. They’d been great together since college until Mick took a job across the country, and Owen wasn’t going to follow. He had a life of his own, dreams he had to chase. A best friend he couldn’t leave behind.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” mumbles Finn.

Owen clears his throat, blinks hard. “No, no, it’s fine. Uh, I just haven’t found anyone. Why?”

Finn shrugs but doesn’t answer. Owen wonders what it means but doesn’t ask. They fall quiet again, and Owen resists the urge to squirm. The silence is different now. Though he knows it’s there, he can’t pinpoint the change. He blows out a slow breath and focuses on the road, on the traffic that’s picked up in the last hour.

Their next stop is the prison in Laramie, Wyoming—or it would be, were it not closed for the season. Finn’s face screams of disappointment as they climb back into the car; Owen wishes he’d done more research into this trip. Thankfully, there’s another place that Finn will like on the route.

True to Owen's prediction, Finn loves the cowgirl museum. He spends the entire time reading plaques and telling Owen stories he’d read about in history books. Owen only smiles and nods along, says the appropriate “Wow”s and “That’s awesome”s. When Finn leans forward to check out an outfit on display, Owen watches him. Something warm bubbles to the surface, and he doesn’t bother ignoring it. Something else has changed so far on this trip, despite the fact it’s only been under three days. He knows nothing will change between them—no the difference is within himself. He will never let something alter the friendship he has with Finn.

Museums, an archway with a beautiful campus, hours stretching onward in time. Owen finds himself falling more enraptured with each minute that passes. Each moment he sees the way Finn’s face lights up, twists with concentration and curiosity, the way he dotes on Cate as much as he can. Owen loves every second that he gets to spend with his best friend. The feelings from so long ago have lain dormant for years, but they’re coming back with a vengeance, retribution for hiding them away as if he was ashamed of them. He could never be ashamed of them.

Finn has always accepted everything about Owen—from his personality to his wardrobe choices to his sexuality. Never has Finn treated Owen like he was something disgusting. No judgment, no revulsion, nothing but the same affection and compassion as he’d shown the day they’d met. Maybe it was hopeless dreaming then, and unrequited love now, but Owen wouldn’t have it any other way. In another life, perhaps, but this one is amazing enough.

Owen glances over at Finn who taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song on the radio. Evening sunlight slants through the windshield, and the light casts his skin a golden tan. His pale eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses, but Owen knows they’re dark now. Finn has been too silent for too long; he is stuck in his thoughts, the loneliness that’s plagued him for months. Alyse really did a number on you , Owen thinks before turning his gaze away.

Finn chooses where they eat dinner—a small gas station with surprisingly delicious pizza just off the highway—then another cheap motel for the night. The room is nothing more than a place to sleep and shower. The man at reception doesn’t blink when they say they have a dog with them. Finn and Owen carry in their duffel bags and electronics, and Owen frowns at the furniture inside, one bed, a nightstand, and a TV. Without commenting on the bed situation, he commandeers the attached bathroom first and disappears behind the door that doesn’t lock. He keeps his shower to under five minutes; the lack of water pressure is less than satisfactory.

After Finn emerges from the bathroom, there is no escaping the conversation that needs to happen. They need to discuss who sleeps in the bed, who sleeps on the floor. Owen bites the bullet: He grabs a flat pillow off the bed and drops it onto the floor. His skin prickles with the weight of scrutiny, and he looks over his shoulder at Finn.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping on the floor,” Owen says simply. What else would he be doing with a pillow on the floor?

“Idiot. Your back is gonna hate you tomorrow.”

Owen pauses. Finn’s right—his body will ache more fiercely than it has since this trip started. Capitulating with as much grace as possible, he tosses the pillow back onto the bed. Finn grins smugly and sprawls on one side of the mattress. Owen takes the other half. It’s a tight fit; they both just barely get enough space, and even then, there is only an inch or two between their bodies. Finn doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seems wholly at ease with the prospect of sharing a bed with his best friend as grown men. Owen mentally shakes his head to clear away the thoughts and reaches for the lamp on the nightstand.

The click of the pull-cord sounds louder than it should, and the room is plunged into darkness. Even shadows don’t exist in the tenebrous black. Owen breathes in deeply, exhales slowly, and focuses on his body. Each limb relaxes, one by one, into the mattress until finally, he feels less like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.

“Remember when we did this in college?”

Owen twitches at the sudden question; Finn’s voice had broken the quiet in which Owen thought he’d already fallen asleep. He lets out a shaky laugh and nods though his best friend can’t see it.

“Yeah, every time your roommate had his girlfriend over.”

“Don’t forget the time the heat went out in your dorm,” Finn recalls then sighs. “Those were the days.”

Owen swallows the sudden lump in his throat. What does Finn mean? Does he miss college and all its glory of studying and partying, or does he miss something else? Owen thinks he’ll never know, he should stop questioning it. He squeezes his eyes closed, feeling much like the sixteen-year-old kid he’d been when he first felt the stirrings of a crush—unrequited puppy love, his mother would have said. He was just as uncomfortable and awkward and uncertain then as he is now.

“Finn?” he manages to whisper a few minutes later, but all he gets in response is a soft snore. He stifles a smile at the fact that some things never change. “Goodnight, Finn.”

An arm is draped over his waist when he wakes the next morning. Warm breath skates across the back of his neck, and he shivers at the steady puffs of air. He closes his eyes and relishes the feeling of not being alone. Of being held like this. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. Mick was the last person he shared a bed with; Owen has been single ever since, and he lost himself in the empty apartment and one-person meals. Finn has made it all more bearable, even when he was dating Peter then Alyse, both serious relationships that should have taken up all of his time. He never pushed Owen aside, was always there when Owen needed him.

Finn’s arm twitches before his face presses against Owen's neck. After a moment, he pulls away, and Owen is left mourning the loss of warmth, of touch. He rolls onto his back and stretches. His hand hits Finn’s, and Finn laughs before wrapping his fingers around Owen's. A gentle squeeze that shouldn’t get Owen's heart racing like it is, and God, does it feel nice. Better than nice, really. But then Finn is letting go, and Owen wants to beg him to keep holding on.

He doesn’t speak. He can’t. He just lets Finn roll out of bed, head to the bathroom. Owen sighs, pressing his palms to his eyes. He needs to get control of himself. He’s letting past feelings affect his present.

“You gonna get up any time soon, O?” Finn says as he steps into the main room dressed for the day. “I can’t imagine this bed is all that clean, given the place looks like it’s been here since the age of dinosaurs and hasn’t been scrubbed in just as long.”

“Oh, come on , Finn. Why would you say that?”

Finn only laughs as Owen scrambles to his feet. He changes quickly in the bathroom, brushes his teeth, and follows Finn with Cate to check out of the motel.

The state line appears, denoted by the large green sign with white letters, and Finn lets out a cheer. Owen doesn’t understand why his friend is so thrilled about entering Iowa, but whatever the reason, Finn’s joy is contagious. Cate shoves her head between the seats, tongue lolling out of her mouth, barks once. Owen slaps the ceiling of the car three times with an enormous smile on his face. Their amusement fades after a couple of miles of interstate, but their spirits are still high. Finn sings and plays air guitar to every rock song that fills the radio waves, and Owen listens.

Finn was right. This feels a lot like college, when they’d blow off steam after exams. Drives around the small town just past the city limit sign, parking on the side of a dirt road and sitting on the hood to watch the stars, deep conversations that Owen has never wanted to have with anyone else. With a soft sigh, Owen lets himself remember all those nights spent together. It’s no wonder, really, that he developed feelings for his best friend. It’s only a wonder that he managed to hide it so well for so long.

Owen snaps a couple dozen photos of the covered bridge and of Finn’s face lit up with joy and sun. His nose has grown red from the cold winter air, his cheeks pale but for two spots of brilliant ruby. Owen can see everything everyone ever saw in Finn—he’s been able to since before any of them came along.

Iowa takes almost three days to get through. The last stop before reaching Illinois is a truck-stop boasting to be the world’s largest. Owen has to admire how enormous it is; it’s truly impressive. But his attention isn’t on the show trucks or the variety of fast-food restaurants or even the fact the place has a dentist . All he can focus on is Finn who roams around aimlessly and strikes up conversation with random people. By the time Finn’s ready to get back on the road, Owen’s feet ache, and he’s heard the life stories of too many truckers.

Getting through Illinois then Indiana goes much quicker: Owen parks on the side of the interstate while Finn pulls out his cellphone. The men scroll through the first page of search results in hopes of finding some sort of attraction to visit, but there are none. So they drive. They talk. Owen even tells Finn more about the breakup, though he doesn’t fully know the reason behind it. Sure, even he agreed that something was missing, but what it is, neither of them had been able to pinpoint. Finn gives Owen that appraising look he’s prone to wearing on his face then shrugs.

“Seems like you hadn’t found your Mr. Right.”

“You believe in that? Like, the whole soulmates, better half thing?”

Finn shakes his head and shifts in his seat. “Nah, not soulmates. Maybe... I dunno, man, maybe it’s less missing a half of yourself like the concept of soulmates implies and more finding someone who makes you a better you.”

“Well, I don’t need anyone to make me a better me,” Owen says, signaling to exit the highway. “I’m already perfect enough.”

It does the job: Finn laughs, his head falling back, and Owen wants to kiss the smile off his face. Oh, no . It’s too late now—Owen has begun to accept that he’ll always love Finn in more ways than Finn can reciprocate, and that acceptance is bleeding out into wants. Cate snuffles against his ear, but even the wet tickling sensation can’t distract Owen from the truth. Finn quiets after a moment, reaches over to grab Owen’s free hand.

“You’re pretty damn close, Harding.”

To Owen’s surprise, Finn doesn’t let go until almost half an hour later, when he leans his head against the window and falls asleep. Owen sighs, fingers tingling with the ghost of Finn’s touch, and squeezes the steering wheel with both hands. If he doesn’t, he might do something stupid like hold Finn’s hand more. Get a grip , he demands of himself. You’re twenty-nine, not sixteen . Sighing, Owen glances in the rearview mirror. Cate lifts her head as if feeling his gaze.

“I’m screwed, aren’t I, girl?”

Her liquid brown eyes seem to agree.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame steals Owen’s attention from anything else; he moves through the building in awe. He’s seen photos of the seven-story building, but the pictures failed to capture the grandiosity. He rattles off information as he and Finn make their way from exhibit to exhibit, and Finn listens patiently. Owen knows that his best friend isn’t as interested in the minutiae of the music world or the architecture, but still he doesn’t stop Owen from rambling. A smile lingers on his lips even after they exit the building.

Cate whines when they enter the hotel room, and Finn hurriedly straps her harness on. Promising they’ll be back, he leads his dog out of the room, and Owen drops to sit on the bed farthest from the door. The hotel is more upscale than what they’ve been staying in on this roadtrip, and he stares at the painting on the wall. It’s an ocean landscape, waves of white swirling along the shoreline, dancing upon the stretch of golden sand. He wishes it wasn’t winter out—a day at the beach would be more relaxing than freezing every time they step out of the car.

“How much longer until we get there?” Finn asks as he unwraps the burger he’d gone out for.

“Um, about eight-ish hours.”

“You still won’t tell me where we’re going, will you?”

“Absolutely not.”

Finn gazes at him with narrowed eyes then huffs out a laugh. Shakes his head. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

“I think I will.”

If only you knew the secrets I’m keeping.

Owen takes a quick shower after dinner, thanking the stars for water pressure that pushes needles of hot into his tense muscles, then walks Cate one last time while Finn disappears into the bathroom. She sniffs around in hopes of finding somewhere to relieve herself, and Owen wonders, not for the first time, when she became just as much his dog as she’s ever been Finn’s. His thoughts derail at the sharp gust of bitter wind. It rips through the thick fluff of his coat, and he wishes he’d brought something more substantial. Or the knit cap Finn’s grandmother had made him for Christmas last year.

Christmas.

How had Owen forgotten Christmas is only two days away? It’s one of his favorite holidays. He spends it with his mother and father every year before flying back to Oregon to count down to midnight with Finn and his family. It’s been tradition since they graduated college; they’d promised each other to remain friends, and they had, even when Finn moved to Egypt to help improve the overseas branch of the marketing company he worked for. They wrote each other extensive emails every day, and long-distance phone calls once a week kept them closer than ever. Owen was the first person Finn came to see once his feet touched down on Portland soil.

Whistling sharply for Cate to follow, Owen hurries into the warmth of the hotel, shivering as the hot air blasts over him. The cocker spaniel trots happily at his side then sits by his feet in the elevator. He swipes his keycard and waits the second for the light to turn green. The lock clicks out of place, and he pushes open the door. His footsteps falter when he walks past the bathroom and into the main portion of the room.

Finn stands by the bed with only a towel around his waist. He holds up a finger and continues talking to whoever is on the other end of the phone call—presumably his mother, judging by the sweet smile on his face. Owen swallows harshly as a bead of water drops from Finn’s hair to snake down his lithe back. Turning away, Owen unhooks Cate’s leash and winds it around his hand. He clenches a fist around the nylon until his fingernails dig into his palm. The sharp bites of pain bring him back to the present, ground him in reality instead of the daydreams that threaten to take over.

After a drawn-out goodbye with his mother, Finn lets his phone drop to the bed and ambles back to the bathroom. His voice is muffled but audible when he apologizes for his partial nudity.

“Mom called just as I got out of the shower asking if we’d be home in time for New Year’s.” He pauses, and the sink runs for a moment. “Will we?”

“Do you want to be?”

No answer comes from the bathroom for a long moment. The door creaks open, and Finn steps out, now fully dressed. Owen frowns, brow furrowing, when Finn stares at him. Something on his face disconcerts Owen. He can’t read the expression Finn wears. It’s a new experience, and he hates it.

“I want whatever you want.”

Owen swallows thickly, pleading silently for Finn to take back those words. There is no way Finn desires the same things Owen does. He imagines a kiss under mistletoe, hot cocoa and whiskey by a fireplace, Cate curled up at the foot of the bed while the two men sleep tangled in each other. A fantasy that will never come to fruition, and Owen has accepted it. He will accept it.

“Then I have one more thing for you,” he ekes out, and Finn grins widely.

The clock on the bedside table reads 2:49 when Owen jerks awake. He freezes when a warm body slides into bed behind him, and Finn’s hand skates along Owen’s side until his arm curls around him. Finn presses closer until his nose brushes against the back of Owen’s neck.

“Finn?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you in my bed?”

“I got cold and Cate took over my bed,” Finn replies as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, and maybe it is for him. “You mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Good, ’cause I wasn’t gonna move.”

It’s such a Finn thing to say that Owen can’t help but laugh. Cate grumbles from the floor; he imagines her head lifting to give them a reproachful look, and it only makes him chuckle harder. Finn pinches his side, but Owen can feel the smile on his skin. He finally calms and hesitates. Places his hand over Finn’s. Finn slots his knees behind Owen’s, whispers a goodnight, and falls silent. Owen closes his eyes and breathes in slowly. A small part of him realizes Finn is still awake. Owen wonders why, but the world slips away before he can ask.

The late-afternoon sun peeks through steely clouds, and Owen wraps his coat more tightly around himself as he and Finn push their way through the crowd of pedestrians on the sidewalk. Finn scowls, and Owen knows he’s still worried about leaving Cate in the hotel room alone. He thinks the concern is for naught: they hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the door handle, and she has enough food and water for the handful of hours they’ll be gone.

Owen’s entire being vibrates, and he repeatedly tells Finn to hurry up. Finn, for his part, plods along, though a smile curves his lips. Eventually, they arrive at their destination, and Finn comes to a stop. He stares with jaw dropped at the massive lit tree on the far side of the rink. At the skaters gliding easily across the ice. At the buildings around them. He turns to Owen.

“What—?”

“You said your dad used to bring you here when you were a kid.” Owen’s shoulders rise and fall jerkily. “Figured you’d enjoy coming back. I know I’m not your dad, but…”

“O, this is…” Finn swallows and gazes at Owen with glassy eyes. “I guess f I can’t have my dad back, there’s no one else I’d rather be here with.”

Owen clenches his jaw to stem the tide of words at the emotion thickening Finn’s voice. Finn holds out a hand, and the pair move to ready themselves for an hour of ice-skating. Owen shakes and stumbles, but Finn is there to keep him steady. He skates backward with ease, his hands wrapped around Owen’s, and murmurs encouragement. Owen thinks it’s pathetic of him to need help skating, but he won’t tell Finn. He won’t refuse Finn’s help—his touch .

“Thank you,” Finn says as they exit the rink. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”

Owen smiles and looks at his best friend from the corner of his eye. “I’m glad. I just wanted you to have a good time.”

“Cocoa?”

“Absolutely.”

To-go cups of hot chocolate in hand, Owen follows Finn to an empty bench, and they sit in tandem. Finn stares at the people milling about, taking photos of each other and the tree, and sighs. When he meets Owen’s gaze, hesitation lives in his eyes. His mouth opens, but no words come. He shakes his head with a rueful smile.

“You okay?” Owen asks, and something in his chest tightens when Finn lies.

Finn says he’s fine.

Finn isn’t fine.

But Owen doesn’t press, and Finn doesn’t say. They drink silently, watch fellow tourists and New Yorkers alike. It’s peaceful, but all good things come to an end: They have dinner to get to, a dog to care for, and the weather is growing colder with each passing minute. So they hail a cab to take them to the restaurant Owen made reservations at.

Cate jumps on her hind legs at their feet when they step into the hotel room after dinner, and Owen laughs as he takes off his coat. Her tail wags almost violently. Owen crouches to run a hand over her long silken fur.

“Hey, Catey-girl, miss us?”

“She misses the treats we spoil her with.”

Owen doesn’t move. ‘We’. Such a together-sounding word, simple yet so changing. He stands upright and turns to face Finn. The other man has his hands shoved into his pockets, and he watches Owen closely. The same hesitation has come back. Finally, he steps forward.

“Fuck waiting for New Year’s,” he mutters.

The world stands still—time no longer exists—it’s just Owen and Finn, as it always has been, but this is different. This is Finn kissing him, kissing him, kissing him . Owen can hardly breathe; he doesn’t dare believe this is reality, because Finn is kissing him. It’s a tentative thing, searching and hoping, and Owen has never been kissed like this before. How can this be real? But then Finn pulls back, and his gaze searches Owen’s face.

“Please tell me I haven’t read this wrong.”

Owen shakes his head vehemently. Finn has read exactly what Owen has wanted during this roadtrip. Everything he didn’t let himself dream of. No, Finn has read it clearly. To drive home his point, Owen surges forward and kisses Finn with a force that surprises even himself. Finn’s arms loop around Owen’s waist, and he presses forward until Owen takes a step back. They part only long enough for Owen to fall backwards onto one of the beds—he doesn’t care which one, all he cares about is the fact Finn’s body is blanketing his, a long line of heat and, oh, God , Owen thinks. Even his thoughts are full of babbling. Disbelief and desire. Want and need . He arches into Finn, Finn who pushes a hand against Owen’s hip to hold him down.

“God, I’ve wanted this for a while,” Finn whispers when they separate; his breathing comes in heavy gusts, and Owen is faring no better. “Do you know how hard it’s been not to make a move before now?”

Owen groans when teeth catch on his throat. A scrape then the wet slide of a tongue to soothe the subtle pain. He pulls Finn closer, and his hips move against Finn’s hand. He has no control over himself; he moves and gasps and shifts until Finn’s thigh is between his own.

“Finn—” Owen pants as Finn scratches lightly at the skin of his hip. “Finn, wait. What’s even happening right now?”

Finn sighs and pulls away. He rests himself on Owen’s legs, and his gaze jerks away. “I… I meant it, y’know. I meant what I said, that I’ve wanted this for a while.” He huffs out a humorless laugh and shakes his head. “Why do you think I’ve been crawling into your bed so many nights?”

“You—?”

“Yeah, Owen. I’ve been stealing what I can of you.”

“But what about Alyse?”

“Alyse was great until the end. I loved her. I always will. She broke my heart, and I don’t think I’ll ever truly forgive her for that.” Finn pins Owen with a piercing gaze, one that captivates him as if he’s prey and Finn is the predator. “But I realized that maybe you’re who I’m meant to be with. I mean, no one else would ever have driven me across the country just so I could go ice-skating like I did as a kid.”

“We’re best friends,” Owen protests, but Finn covers his mouth with one hand.

“Best friends, yes. But why not more?”

More . It’s what Owen wants, and God, he might get it now. He wants, he needs, he moves against Finn. The most beautiful sound erupts from Finn, and he leans down to kiss Owen again. And again. And again. Owen wants to feel all of Finn above him, but he dare not stop this. If this is just a dream, he doesn’t want to wake up. So, despite the tightness of his jeans, despite his age, he continues grinding against the man he loves—fuck, does he love this man. Finn breathes against his lips, drags his mouth along Owen’s cheek, bites at his throat.

Owen stills moments later, oversensitive, spent, chest heaving, but he rests his hands on Finn’s hips and helps him chase his own release. Finn finds it, moaning into Owen’s skin. His movements slow before coming to a stop, and neither man moves for a long while. Owen holds Finn, listens to his breathing, feels the slight tremors in the other man’s body. The warm air in the room is incomparable to the heat of their sweat-damp skin.

Finn pulls back enough to kiss Owen with a tenderness that makes Owen ache. They lie together, trading soft kisses, until Cate whines. Finn laughs against Owen’s lips and slithers away. Owen stays where he is and watches Finn grab a clean outfit from his duffel bag—most likely his last until they can get to a laundromat. Finn walks into the bathroom, and the shower starts with a squeak of the pipes. Owen listens to the water raining down, grimacing as he shifts and remembers the mess inside of his briefs. He should be mortified. After all, what grown adult comes in their pants, no matter how turned on they are? But Finn had been just as affected. So it can’t be pathetic, can it?

Cate leaps onto the bed, shoving her face into Owen’s, and licks his chin. He pushes her away with a laugh and sits up. The shower stops, and Owen stands to find his suitcase. After pulling out a fresh pair of briefs, he waits until the bathroom door opens. Finn steps out, towel wrapped around his waist and another in one hand to dry his hair. Owen’s mouth runs dry at the sight. Before he can say anything embarrassing, he steps around Finn and closes the door behind him. A quick shower later, he joins Finn in the main room—or he tries to.

Finn is nowhere to be found. Neither is Cate’s leash and harness. So Owen settles in to wait.

Finn returns ten minutes later. His cheeks are rosy under bright eyes, and he grins as soon as he sees Owen on the bed. He hurriedly peels off his coat and hat then rushes to the bed. He pulls the blankets back and slides under the comforter, tugging until Owen lifts his ass and joins him. Finn curls into him almost immediately, and Owen shivers at the cold leaching into his skin from Finn’s. He doesn’t mind, however. He just pulls Finn closer and presses a kiss to his chill forehead.

“So what does this make us?” Owen asks after a few minutes of silence.

“What do you want us to be?”

“Honestly? I want us to be together. Like, exclusively in a relationship. I wanna be able to tell people you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“I want that, too,” murmurs Finn as he shifts to get more comfortable.

Owen runs his hand through Finn’s hair then reaches over to turn off the light. Once he settles back in, he whispers, “Then I’m all yours.”

Though it’s only nine o’clock, Owen tucks the blankets more securely around them and closes his eyes. It’s better than he imagined, all those years ago, to have all of Finn’s affection, his attention, his touch and kisses and love. This is where he’s always belonged, even before either of them knew it. He would have been content with friendship for the rest of his life—Finn has proved he’s more than worth hiding the feelings—but this? This is something Owen would be foolish to throw away.

“Psst. Owen, wake up. C’mon, man, open them pretty brown eyes.”

Owen groans but does as Finn has asked. He peers blearily at his best friend, taking in the rounded jawline and pale eyes sparkling in the light coming from the crack between the bathroom door and the frame. Yawning widely, Owen rolls onto his side facing Finn; the smile on his face is contagious, and Owen finds himself smiling without knowing why.

“What’s got you so happy?” Owen asks, and Finn darts forward to give him a gentle kiss.

“You. And the fact you did all this for me. Just so I could have a holiday worth having after Alyse and my job screwed me over. Merry Christmas, Owen. Thank you.”

“Always, Finn. That’s what we promised in college, remember? We’d always be there for each other. No matter what, I would have been here by your side until the day I left this earth.”

“You sap.”

Whatever Owen might have said disappears under Finn’s lips. I’m yours , he thinks as Finn shoves his hand under Owen’s shirt. When Finn pulls back to draw in a breath, Owen pinches his side lightly.

“Is this my Christmas present?”

“Hey, O?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Owen has no qualms about obeying.

And even though Cate puts an end to it by jumping onto the bed and burrowing between the men, Owen wouldn’t have it any other way.

Finley K. James is an indie romance author who focuses on heart, heat, and healing. With 3 kids, 2 cats, and a husband, her life is full of chaos and stories waiting to happen.