Merry and sprite, p.7
Merry & Sprite, page 7
The last things he remembers are BB guns and the sound of Forrest’s laughter as he drifts to sleep.
WHEN JONATHAN WAKES, it’s dark outside and there’s a note on the nightstand: Why did the chicken cross the basketball court? Because he heard the referee was blowing fouls. Fowls, get it? Don’t tell me you didn’t laugh because I don’t believe you. Had to run to Hoppy. Feel better!!!
P.S. You look cute when you sleep.
Then a big, swooping heart above Forrest’s name.
Before the smile on Jonathan’s face can even fade, his phone rings. Forrest’s name flashes across the screen. “How did you know I was awake?” Jonathan asks when he picks up.
“I saw the lamp by your bed switch on.”
“That’s really creepy,” Jonathan informs him.
“Says the guy who’s peeped on everyone I’ve slept with in the last few months.”
“I have not peeped! A person can’t help if they’re sitting at the kitchen table, minding their own damn business while innocently working on a puzzle, and they catch movement out of the corner of their eye when another one of your conquests does the walk of shame at two in the morning.”
“You really stay up that late?” Forrest says, as if that’s the point to take away from Jonathan’s rant.
Jonathan sniffs. “I have insomnia. It’s hard to get to sleep some nights.”
“That tracks,” Forrest says, and Jonathan has no idea what he means by that. A lot of people suffer from lack of sleep. And who could blame them in this capitalistic hellscape of doom we’re all living in?
“Anyway,” Jonathan mumbles, “you called?”
“Just wanted to check on you when I saw the light pop on. Feeling okay?”
“Yeah.” He shoves a hand through his hair. His face is still throbbing, but he’ll definitely live. “Thanks for looking out for me today.”
“Anytime.” A beat goes by, then, “Hey, I was thinking, since you didn’t grant today’s wish, do you figure when you wake up tomorrow the spell might be broken? Like it keeps going until the day you can’t provide and then implodes.”
“Maybe. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
“If you make it through the night.”
“Very reassuring, thank you.”
It’s late, and Jonathan knows he should get going, but they don’t hang up, staying on the line like a couple of middle school mouthbreathers just inhaling and exhaling back and forth at each other until Forrest breaks and says, “So what are you wearing?”
Jonathan lets out a groan. “Why are you always doing that?”
“Doing what?” Forrest says, voice the sound of pure innocence. “Showing a healthy interest in your choice of fashion?”
“No. Why are you always teasing me like that?”
There’s a pause, and Jonathan can almost feel Forrest thinking over the line. Finally he sputters and says, “Do you really think… I’m not teasing you, Jonny. I’m hitting on you!”
Jonathan scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
“Yeah,” Forrest says, “that is right.” A message for the impossibly slow to catch a hint. “You’re smart, intriguing, drop-dead gorgeous, and to be honest, the fussypants thing you’ve nailed down really turns me on.”
“Fussypants!?”
“Yeah, you know, the way you’re always so uptight. Makes me want to ruffle your feathers, know what I mean?”
“I most certainly do not.”
“Grasp those pearls, Jonny. But I’ve seen you looking too. And one fine day…” Forrest whistles. “Yeah. It’s going to happen between us. And damn, it’s gonna be good. I can feel it. Can’t you?”
“Stop,” Jonathan says, breathing it out, one tiny word holding back the boulder Forrest’s just shoved off a ledge.
“Do you want me to? Because you say the word and I back off. I flirt with you because it’s fun. For both of us. If I’m wrong, and you aren’t into it… just say so and I stop. Is that what you want?”
The words to tell Forrest he’s not into this are right there on the tip of Jonathan’s tongue. But they’re caught on the image of Forrest and his ever-present grin, the way he slides his eyes to Jonathan after delivering a line, waiting to see if it’s one of those rare occasions that he wins a genuine smile.
Forrest is the most familiar thing about every day. Jonathan’s gotten used to the outrageous things he says, even when they leave him spinning for hours at a time. The thrill when he lands a zinger in response. How his heart always beats a little bit louder whenever Forrest is nearby. He closes his mouth and stays quiet.
“Yeah,” Forrest says after a long minute. “I thought so.”
“You know silence isn’t consent.” It’s the only defense Jonathan has left.
“Point. So?”
“What?”
“Are you going to say yes?”
“Say yes to what, exactly?” Jonathan asks faintly.
Forrest makes a soft humming noise at the back of his throat. “To me sliding my hands over your body and feeling you for the first time. To finally, finally kissing you. I’m gonna get on my knees for you and make you see stars.”
The sound of his breath is heavy in Jonathan’s ear.
“You’re so sexy. Do you have any idea how much time I’ve spent thinking about touching you? What you taste like?” A low moan flows from Forrest’s mouth through the phone and right up Jonathan’s spine. “When I imagine you telling me you want me, I get so hard. And I lose it completely picturing you in my bed. Tell me what it feels like to be inside you, Jonathan.”
Forrest waits, and Jonathan knows he’s giving him a chance to respond, to let that ever-so-shiny hook sink right into his skin. But he can’t. He can’t, tongue-tied on every fear and doubt camped out on his insides. The silent seconds tick by.
A loud whoosh of breath comes over the line, then, “You have a good night, Jonny. I’ll check on you in the morning. And I’ll be waiting. All you ever have to do is say yes.”
Forrest clicks off, and Jonathan is left hard as nails and holding his breath. He stares at the ceiling, reeling over the visuals Forrest just etched forever into his head.
He palms a hand over his cock, giving himself a squeeze.
“Yes,” he whispers to the ceiling, testing out the weight of it on his tongue.
CHAPTER NINE
“FERNIE’S DOG HAS her trapped in the apartment again.”
It’s the first thing Esther says to Jonathan when he opens TranquiliTea the next morning. Charlie, Fern’s tiny cream Dachshund, is a terror. Jonathan sincerely didn’t know that level of violence could come from such a small creature. Charlie has officially been banned from the shop. Fern’s doggie hostage situation might actually work in his favor, though.
“Hey, Esther,” he says, setting a cup of tea down in front of her. “Can you keep a secret from Fern?”
Her eyes take on an intrigued glow. “Nothing could bring me greater pleasure!”
“Of course.” He chuckles, getting a kick out of her antics, as usual. “If I were to ask you about a guy Fern might have had a crush on back in early college days, would you know anything about that?”
“Oh, Butterball!” she says immediately. “Fernie was smitten. I was sure they would end up together, but Fireball flew in and snatched her up.”
“There are a whole lot of balls in this tale.”
“Story of my life!”
“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Back to Fern. Do you think she’d want a second chance with him now? Was he a good guy?”
“He was a real sweetheart! We took LSD together on several occasions,” she says. Jonathan is sincerely starting to wonder if the entire village is actually some sort of psychedelic cult. “His energy is divine in several dimensions.”
“I’ll bet.” For the record, Jonathan will not be drinking any offered Kool-Aid. “And do you think she’d be into hearing from him?”
Esther snorts. “She would never admit to it, but Fern hates being alone. Why do you think she caves to anything that devil dog demands? She wants to be loved.”
“You love her,” he points out.
“Obviously.” She pauses, stirring a spoon in her tea for a beat before going on. “That woman is the love of my life.” She gives him a deliberate look. “I don’t mean I want to bone her.”
He nods. “I get it. She’s your person.”
“She’s the closest thing I have to what you would call a soul mate. Fernie’s witnessed my entire kooky life and stuck with me through it all. She and I were the only Jewish kids in our class, you know—we’ve been friends since we were just children. Heck, she practically raised my kids for me the year Adam passed.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lost your husband so young.”
“Yes, well, it was a long time ago. That man was…” Jonathan can see the memories flashing in her eyes. She smiles fondly. “He was something else. I never knew what was coming next. Adam choked to death while attempting to set a record at a competitive eating contest, the damn fool.”
“Wow.” Esther’s not kidding around when she says her life has leaned into the bizarre.
”But back to your question, dear. Butterball’s name is Don. He lives about twenty minutes outside of town. But you’re best off getting a hold of him through Neka.”
“Neka? Why’s that?”
“She’s married to his grandson.”
“Seriously?” Butterball’s been a closer get than he ever could have guessed. “Hey, Esther, one more thing. Can I get Fern’s number?”
She makes a little noise of complaint. “Just like being back in high school, some cute boy asking me for Fernie’s number.”
Giving her a little sideways smile, he shrugs. “Hey, I don’t know about that. I’ve always had a thing for the ones who can make me laugh.”
“Yes, that’s why you’re dating Forrest.”
“Dating? What!” he sputters. “That’s a lie. Who told you that?”
“My eyes,” she informs him. “You like him. And that boy most certainly likes you back.”
He sniffs. “Forrest is just helping me out with a project.”
“Is the project to get you laid?” She looks positively delighted to have this opportunity to so thoroughly mock him.
Groaning, he tells her, “Actually, it’s you and Forrest who should hook up. One-track minds, the both of you.”
“Don’t have to ring the dinner bell for me twice on that one!”
“Esther. I can’t with you.” She mimes ringing a bell and a laugh breaks free from his mouth. “I can’t,” he tells her, trying so hard to hold back his grin. “Please stop.”
“Well lucky for you, Spin Me a Yarn won’t open by itself. I need to go unlock the shop. Lord knows when Cujo will release Fernie this time. I hope her fridge is well stocked.”
“Esther,” he calls as she nears the door. “Thank you.” He’s starting to feel at home here. These people who walk in and out of his everyday life, Jonathan genuinely cares for them. Almost like he’s a real villager now, too. Though Jonathan still wouldn’t swear he’s not about to receive an invitation to become initiated into some kind of freaky New Age cult.
“NEKA, DID YOUR grandfather-in-law play basketball in college?” Jonathan asks when she enters the shop, his mouth is stuffed half-full of Christmas muffin.
“Dude, you’re seriously addicted to those things,” she tells him. “We’re gonna need a twelve-step for you when Dot retires them for the year.”
Her words send a chill straight up his spine. The idea of no more muffins never entered his mind, but now it will definitely be another thing keeping him up at night.
“But about your grandfather-in-law?” he reminds, swallowing down the last of his midafternoon snack.
“You mean Don. Basketball? I think so? I mean, I don’t really know.”
“Is he single?” Her eyebrows shoot high. He shakes his head, giving a little chuckle. “Not for me. Asking for a friend.”
“Totally single. He’s bummed about it every time we visit. The only lady in his life is his tabby cat.”
“Listen, I know this is going to sound weird, but—”
“Jonathan, I’m married to a guy who gives dogs surfing lessons for a living. I’m down with weird. What’s up?”
“Fern had a thing for a guy in college, and I think it’s your grandfather-in-law.”
“No shit?” She cocks her head to the side. “And you want to play Cupid?”
“Exactly.”
“One sec.” She grabs her phone from her apron and taps out a text, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she reads the message she gets back. “Yeah, Don remembers Fern and he’s totally into it. I sent her number. He’ll call.”
From the way the orbs of light start to fade before his eyes, Jonathan would say Fern’s already been dialed. Guy sure doesn’t waste any time.
Speaking of which, Forrest invites him over approximately two seconds after Jonathan texts him that Fern’s wish has been solved.
Forrest: Come to my place I have something for u
Forrest: It’s not my dick tho u can def have that too if u want
Jonathan: Charming.
Forrest: Ya I know right? U coming?
Jonathan: Fine.
Forrest: Wear something sexy
Jonathan’s eyes narrow as he reads the text. He marches upstairs to the apartment to root around in his aunt’s dresser drawer. Taking a few minutes to go through her t-shirt collection, he finally settles on a Goonies tee featuring Chunk performing the truffle shuffle and pairs it with his baggiest pants. He pulls out socks with a slug pattern just for good measure.
There’s no good reason to shower before they meet. Jonathan’s only going to stay for a minute, and what does it matter anyway if Forrest thinks he smells like he’s been working all day long? Jonathan is definitely not getting into the shower for this guy. If he decides to bathe, it’s purely because he values cleanliness so dearly. And that’s absolutely the only reason.
Fifty minutes later, his hair is washed and styled, body cleansed, face shaved, and he’s dabbed on cologne. He stares into the mirror, exhaling a deep breath. There is no excuse he can think of to be standing here primping like it’s prom night and he’s about to go pick up the king of the high school for the dance.
He can think of approximately three million reasons why he shouldn’t go over there. Jonathan starts counting them as he grabs his phone and hurries down the stairs. It’s heading into twilight as he crosses the street.
Forrest texted to check on him this morning, but he didn’t show up for his daily order of tea, and it’s the longest Jonathan’s gone without seeing him since they teamed up to figure out the spell. But he definitely needed some space after last night’s… “phone sex” isn’t exactly the term he’s looking for. “Phone foreplay” is more fitting.
Tell me what it feels like to be inside you.
Jonathan snips off the memory of Forrest’s heated voice and knocks on the door.
“Nice shirt,” Forrest says when he yanks it open. “Loved that movie when I was a kid.” He smiles at Jonathan like he’s genuinely happy to see him, which only makes Jonathan feel like an asshole for taking his sweet time making his way over after suffering through a personal hygiene crisis.
As he slides through to the entry, Forrest takes a good look at his face. “You’re still puffy, but I guess I’d let myself be seen with you in public.” He shrugs a shoulder and scrunches his nose like maybe it’s iffy.
“Oh, man, I don’t want to screw with your stellar rep.” Jonathan jerks a thumb toward the door. “I can head out?”
The side of Forrest’s mouth curves up. “Get in here, smartass,” he demands, tugging Jonathan farther inside. It smells heavenly in his apartment. One part vanilla, one part spice, one part that earthy, clean smell Jonathan associates with Forrest. The place is tidy in a way he didn’t expect. Everything about it screams nature lover, all dark greens and burnt oranges and browns. Framed photos of the ocean and fields of hops line his walls.
The lights are turned low, and candles lit inside Mason jars glow all along the window sills. Something acoustic and mellow is playing softly in the background, giving off an inviting vibe. Jonathan’s eyes dart from the candles to the cozy-looking blanket laid out on the couch to Forrest’s beautiful face. It’s a sex trap.
“I didn’t ask you over for sex.” Forrest puts his hands up in a placating gesture. “I have cookies.”
“Right,” Jonathan says dryly. “So, you’re offering up sweets, like perverts do, to lure small children into strange vans. I suppose you have a lost puppy you need help finding, too?”
Forrest’s lips twitch. “I’m testing out cookie recipes for the Christmas Farm Tour as a favor to my mom. I need an impartial taste tester.” He throws Jonathan a quick glance. “Plus I hadn’t seen you all day.”
“Oh.”
“You missed me too,” he says, and sounds confident about that, like there’s definitely no question. “You can admit it.”
A second goes by in which Jonathan thinks about making some snappy remark, but the soft look on Forrest’s face stops him, and he only nods, which earns him a sort of smile that he must immediately look away from, lest he melt into the ground.
Forrest guides them into the kitchen, where those delicious smells only get stronger. Jonathan’s mouth waters in anticipation of his first bite.
“Our specials for the evening are classic cornflake wreaths, Yule moon delights, and an M&M’s Christmas cookie using locally sourced butter and free-range eggs,” Forrest tells him in a bored waiter’s sort of tone. “These are all offered alongside a house-made oat milk. Are you ready to order, sir?”
“What, no snickerdoodles?” Jonathan says, mock-offended.
“Ah.” Holding up a finger, Forrest reaches into the oven, popping back up with a freshly baked tray of, lo and behold, snickerdoodle cookies.
Jonathan can’t pretend he’s not impressed Forrest baked his comfort cookie. “You remembered.” He looks over the piles of cookies lining the countertop. There’s enough sugar here to make even the Grinch go a little sweet for the day. “Okaaay, so you’re not trying to get me into bed. I see it now, I’m being fattened up for slaughter.”
