Worst. Christmas. Ever. LOCKED

Darby

My phone buzzes as I reach the sleek, glassed-door entrance of Minari, one of the fanciest men's fashion stores on Rodeo Drive.

A store I'd normally breeze by without even dreaming of setting foot inside.

It's way outside my measly freelance writer income.

I'm sure even a belt would set me back a month's rent.

I wedge myself behind one of the giant pot plants flanking each door, dig out my phone from my messenger bag, and smile big when I see a text from my best friend.

Sky: Did you get the dildo?

I groan and roll my eyes.

Me: I did.

Me: You shouldn't have.

Me: REALLY!

Sky: I most definitely should have. When's the last time you assturbated?

I clutch the phone close to my chest even though there's no one in my immediate vicinity. The sidewalk is swarming with people scurrying about in a last-minute Christmas Eve shopping frenzy, but I'm safely tucked away in a quiet nook.

That doesn't stop my cheeks from burning up as I reply.

Me: Say what now?

Sky: Assturbation. You've never heard of it? Way to out yourself as not having listened to my latest pod.

Oops.

Sky hosts Solo Love, a hit podcast that's all about the importance of pleasuring yourself. His catchphrase—as borrowed from the one and only RuPaul is: If you can't fuck yourself, then how the hell are you going to fuck anyone else?

He's right, I did miss last week's ep. The one about assturbation, apparently. And, now that a few seconds have passed and the word has sunk in, I think I can kind of gauge what its meaning is.

Thankfully, Sky isn't the type to hold a petty grudge and moves right along.

Sky: What are you doing right now?

Me: Shopping.

Sky: For the outfit?

Me: Yes, for the outfit.

Sky: x3

This will go down as the worst year I've ever had.

Grandma Elsie died.

My favorite aunt got diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer.

Yet another writers' strike prevented me from working.

My options deal with a major streamer fell through.

My landlord jacked up my monthly rent by four hundred dollars.

And if all that wasn't bad enough, I'm about to have the worst Christmas ever.

All my friends are out of town, including Sky who's back home with his family and partner in San Diego. He insisted we go out for New Year's Eve when he gets back. Says I need to send this year off with a bang. Closure, or something.

That's why I'm here.

His early Christmas gift to me was an unlimited store credit to Minari. He told me to not look at the price tags and just buy whatever I like, that I deserve it after everything I've been through.

Personally, I'd like to climb into bed tonight, magically wake up January 2, and forget the holidays ever happened.

But I can't.

So instead, I'm going to turn lemons into lemon meringue pie and get my bake on these next few days.

Sky: So, the dildo is at home?

I tap my messenger bag, feeling the massive head poking through near the bottom, and blush. The parcel arrived right as I was heading out. Not knowing what to do with it once I opened it, I tossed the bright-orange thing into my messenger bag.

Bright orange.

Who designs a dildo that obnoxious? Orange has to be the unsexiest color in the world.

Me: Uh, no. I have it on me.

Sky: You kinky fucker. Glad my bad influence is finally rubbing off on you.

I start tapping out the explanation for why I'm running around town with a giant dildo in my messenger bag, but his next text comes through before I can send it.

Sky: Want to raise the stakes some more?

Me: No. I do not.

Sky: I'll take that as a yes, and?

Sky: Use it.

Me: Excuse me?

Sky: Use the dildo.

Sky: Now!

Me: Did you miss the part where I said I'm shopping? In public. With fellow humans.

Sky: PERFECT! Do something wild for once!

We may be besties, but this is just one example of how we're complete polar opposites in many ways.

Sky is funny and outgoing and can charm the pants off anyone. I'm an awkward introvert who can come up with hilarious dialogue…for fictional characters, not in real life.

He's successful in his career. I'm struggling.

He's gorgeous. I'm…average at best.

He's sexually adventurous. I'm a twenty-seven-year-old transplanted into the modern era from the Victorian age.

He's great with men. See above.

Before Sky met his forever guy, he never had trouble finding dates or getting attention. I haven't been out with anyone in forever.

It's not that I don't want to find love, I just hate the whole production of dating. It feels so fake and, ultimately, unrewarding.

Unlike chocolate chip cookies. They never let me down.

Me: I don't think so.

Sky: That's your problem, you think too much. Find a quiet, private spot somewhere and fuck yourself…and I mean that in the nicest, hottest possible way of course.

Me: Not. Gonna. Happen.

Sky: Who knows? It could lead to a Christmas miracle.

Me: Ha. Knowing my luck, no, it wouldn't.

Me: Besides, I think you've used up the quota on Christmas miracles…

Sky met his partner and soulmate last Christmas, and I couldn't be happier for them both…even if the circumstances of how they met still sends a chill down my spine.

Sky: There's a sexy older dude out there for you, too, man. I know there is.

Despite our wildly different upbringings, families, personalities, appearances, and degrees of sexual openness, one thing Sky and I have in common is we're both into older men.

And not merely a few years older than us—Sky's also twenty-seven—I'm talking about guys at least in their forties, although I'm open to even older.

I discovered my biggest passion in life, baking, because of The Great British Bake Off. And part of the reason I got into that show during the pandemic was one of the hosts—the sexy, blue-eyed silver fox Paul Hollywood. That man can ice my cakes anytime he wants.

I like men who have lived.

Men with experience.

Complexity.

Stories.

Scars.

Tattoos.

Just thinking about it sends a torrent of heat rushing through me.

But I don't have time for fantasies that are never going to happen. I spent the whole afternoon stocking up on baking supplies in Glendale and didn’t realize how late it was, barely making it over here before the store closes for the year.

Me: Gotta go, dude. Minari is closing in 10 minutes.

Sky: No worries, man. Send pics!

I shake my head as I go inside.

Yeah, I won't be doing that.