6. Derek

6

Derek

I sat alone at the counter at The Pie Bar, tapping my fingers to the too-loud music. It was a rowdy place tonight, everyone laughing raucously, well-lubricated with alcohol. It was New Year’s Eve, as well as our staff Christmas party, but I wasn’t in the mood. I was always a bit of a homebody, but tonight especially, I felt drawn to return home. There was this gentle nudge, telling me to call it a night. I could have a hot bath or maybe curl up on the couch and read a book beside the Christmas tree.

Before I could make my excuses, though, Leander slid up alongside me and leaned heavily into me; I wondered if I was currently propping him up. “Whaas wrong?” he slurred with an overdone pout, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You’re not having fun.”

“I’m having fun,” I lied. “I just kinda feel like something’s missing, you know? Like I forgot something.” I looked around the bar, and without conscious thought, searched the crowd for a head of blond hair, blue eyes… maybe a light beard… I frowned.

“I know what you’re missing,” Leander said, eyelids dropping to half-mast.

“You do?” I asked, hope blossoming.

He signaled to the bartender, who also happened to be our boss. He was working the bar tonight so all the staff could celebrate together. “Get this man a drink!” my friend cried, giving me a little shake.

“No, Leander, I’m fine,” I tried insisting. “You know what, I think I’m just going to head home. I’m a little tired.”

His smile dimmed, and he leaned in to speak quietly so no one could overhear. “I thought you said your blood work all came back fine.”

“It did. I promise I’m fine, but people can still get tired, you know. I’ve just had a long day.” In fact, things had been better lately. Not a hundred percent or anything, but I wasn’t falling asleep in my dinner anymore. Whatever it was seemed to be passing.

Mr. Jorgensen rested his folded arms on the counter and raised his voice to be heard over the music. “What’ll it be, Derek? First one’s on the house. It’s the least I can do for my best pastry man!”

The two men were looking at me with such hope and optimism that I couldn’t seem to say no. “Uh, how about a rum-raisin cocktail.”

Our boss nodded and began pouring far more than the allotted amount of spiced rum into a glass.

“And he’ll have an apple-pie shot too. My treat,” Leander said, pulling out his wallet, and no amount of arguing would dissuade him.

Mr. Jorgensen set the two drinks on the bar in front of me, one a deep brown color, the other a shot glass topped with whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon. “Cheers, buddy.” Leander picked up my shot glass, tapped it to his own drink, then passed it to me. “Bottom’s up!”

“Uh-huh, sure.” It was sweet and went down far too easily .

“Don’t forget to eat something,” our boss said, sliding a basket down the bar to us before he wandered off to serve someone else.

I sighed, staring down into the basket. Instead of beer nuts or pretzels, The Pie Bar offered baked goods. For the holiday season, we were currently serving mini gingerbread men. I held one up, admiring the detail. I’d made these ones myself. This entire batch was made up of cute little elves, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a beard. I’d been dreaming of elves lately—or rather, one elf in particular. It was the strangest thing, but looking at this cookie made the dream come back in HD.

“Gods, I’m so stupid. It was just a dream,” I mumbled before I shoved the entire cookie into my mouth, then washed it down with the rest of my cocktail. Was I really so lonely that I couldn’t tell the difference between dream and reality?

“That’s the spirit,” Leander said, slapping my back. “Now let’s get you another. You’ve got some catching up to do.”

I wasn’t sure why I stayed at the bar as late as I did, or why I had so much to drink. It wasn’t like me at all, but it was almost like I had something to prove to myself. Whatever it was, I was far too drunk to know whether or not I’d achieved it.

Fumbling with the keys, I finally got the front door open and stumbled into the house, my Uber driver waiting until I got inside before pulling away. The house was entirely dark, except for the string of lights on the Christmas tree, and for some odd reason, my vision blurred with tears .

It had been a sad tree to start with, which was why I’d brought it home. I’d found it in the back of the lot in the discard pile, and the thought of that spindly tree being tossed had made me feel… so alone. I was a lot like that tree in some ways. Being left behind, not really living up to people’s expectations.

So here I was, drunk and crying in the dark, and I bent down to try and take my shoes off. No big surprise, my balance was off, and I overcompensated and tipped straight over. I luckily rotated at the last second and ended up on my ass instead of my head, but there was no way I was getting up.

I spread out and lay there spreadeagled on the floor, staring at the tree lights’ reflection on the ceiling. “I guess I just live here now,” I said out loud.

I wasn’t sure how long I laid there, and I may or may not have fallen asleep for a few minutes, but I soon became aware of a break in the lights, a shadow moving through my living room. Chewy?

There was no chance I had the energy to turn my head and look, but I didn’t have to wait long until a worried face appeared above me. A sleepy smile bloomed on my face. “Hey, it’s my sexy dream elf,” I was pretty sure I said out loud.

Should I have been scared about an intruder right now? Because I really wasn’t.

“Are you okay?” he asked cautiously. “Should I call… one of those things with the flashing red lights?”

Confused, I asked, “An ambulance?”

“Yeah. Should I call one? Are you dying?” He looked genuinely worried as he crouched down beside me, his hands hovering over me like he was scared to touch me but felt the need to do something.

I frowned, taking stock of myself. “No, I’m just drunk. ”

“Oh. I didn’t know shifters could get drunk.” I had no clue what a shifter was, but I was distracted when his eyebrows dipped down into a frown that perfectly mimicked my elf ornament. When did he get so big?

I blinked hard, trying to get the two images of him to align. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be hanging on my Christmas tree?” I asked suspiciously, pointing a finger at the one of him on the left.

“Yes, and I’ll get right back there as soon as I get you into bed. Come on.”

He offered me a hand, and when I reached out and took it, it sent tingles all the way up my arm and into my chest. He heaved me up to my feet, sending my world into a tailspin, and I leaned into his chest, groaning. “Oh gods, make it stop.”

My mystery man brought his arms around me and just held me, protecting me from the worst of the nausea. Wow, I’d never been so drunk that I’d hallucinated before, but he felt so real ! I brought my hands up to brace myself and felt firm muscles beneath a soft fabric. I pulled back and smoothed my hands back and forth over his chest. “Is that velvet?”

“Uh-huh.” I saw his Adam’s apple bob in a gulp, a hitch in his breath. My hands coasted lower, entranced by the ridges of his abs, and when I looked up, his eyes were shut tight. “Can you maybe… not touch me like that? It’s very… intimate.”

I dropped my hands fast, embarrassment cutting through the drunk fog. “Oh. Sorry.” Damn, even in my hallucinations I was rejected, I was just that much of a loser. I tried to back away but slipped and nearly went over again.

My elf’s grip on me remained firm, though, and he swept me up into his arms with ease, as if I weren’t a fully grown man not much smaller than he was. He carried me down the hall, depositing me on my bed.

“You can leave now,” I said, shame still making my stomach churn. I tried to roll away, but he set a hand gently on my shoulder.

“Derek, you’re drunk,” he said softly, by way of explanation. “You probably won’t even remember this tomorrow.”

“Of course I will,” I said with a scoff, my eyeroll making the room spin. “I think about you all the time.”

“You do?” There was a hint of hope and curiosity in his voice.

“How can I not?” I wanted to reach for him, draw him into bed with me, but he’d already said no once, so I curled up on my side and let him draw the blanket over me. “Will you at least tell me your name?”

He paused, about to leave. “It’s Wink.” Then he leaned over me and placed the softest of kisses on my forehead. "Happy New Year," he whispered.

I was asleep before he even left the room.

When I woke the next morning, I couldn’t remember how I got home.