“Why not? It’s Christmas.”
“I know, but . . .” Cody eyed the presents again. Some childish part of him wanted to tear them open and see what was inside. If only he’d thought to buy Nate a gift. Of course, that would have meant losing electricity or telephone service. “I didn’t have enough money—”
“I know.” The way he said it reminded Cody of Logan—no pity or disgust in his voice—just matter-of-fact acceptance. “It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting you to buy me anything.”
“I feel terrible.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“But Nate—”
Nate stepped closer, backing Cody up against the counter. “I’ll make you a deal.” He took the top box off the stack and laid it in Cody’s hands. It was small and easily identifiable based on its size and shape—a cassette tape. “Just open this one. I’ll take all the others back if you want. But this one, I really want you to have.” His voice sounded as shaky as Cody’s had, and Cody glanced up to find Nate watching him, his eyes unreadable, his cheeks slowly turning red. He moved a bit closer. “Go ahead. Open it.”
Cody nodded, his resolve weakening. “Okay.” It was only a cassette, after all. It wouldn’t have cost much. What kind of tape would Nate have picked for him anyway? He was pretty sure they had zero in common when it came to music. He wondered if he could sufficiently fake gratitude if it was Pet Shop Boys or some weird European band he’d never heard of.
He unwrapped it slowly, wanting to make this one stupid gift last all day.
It wasn’t an album. That much was clear immediately. It was a tape Nate had obviously made himself. The spine was decorated only with Cody’s name, and a little red heart. The song list was printed down the front part of the insert in Nate’s small, perfect penmanship. Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Mr. Mister, Pat Benatar, plus a bunch of bands Cody had never heard of—Crowded House, Yazoo, Modern English. But the song titles jumped out at him, somehow saying everything: “Something About You,” “Against All Odds,” “We Belong,” “Crazy for You,” “Time After Time.”
Cody’s heart seemed to patter out several extra beats in a single breath. His hands started to shake again. Jesus, did this mean what he thought it meant? He didn’t know most of the songs on the list. Maybe it wasn’t what he thought.
Or maybe it was.
“Say something,” Nate said, his voice almost a whisper.
“You made me a tape.”
“I did.”
“I, uh . . .” Cody stumbled, afraid if he said much more, he’d start crying after all. “I didn’t get you anything.”
Nate moved closer, the distance between them matched exactly by the tape in Cody’s hands, as if it were the only thing keeping them apart. He touched Cody’s arm, his hand warm and gentle and wonderfully familiar. “You should know by now there’s only one thing in the world I want anyway.”
Cody finally looking up at Nate, wanting to know if this was really what it felt like.
And before Cody could say a word, Nate kissed him.
It was awkward at first, their lips not quite lining up, Cody’s arms pinned between them. Only for a second, though. Only long enough for Cody to catch his breath, and then he dropped the wrapping paper and wiggled his arms around Nate’s neck, the cassette still tight in his hand. He relaxed into Nate’s embrace, parting his lips to let Nate kiss him deeper, and the next thing he knew, Nate was pushing him back against the counter, leaning against him, kissing him harder, his hands seeming to be everywhere—under Cody’s shirt, in his hair, his fingers warm and soft on the back of Cody’s neck—and Cody found himself suddenly balking, shocked at the sudden onslaught and the urgency in Nate’s touch.
“Wait,” he said, trying to pull away even though he had nowhere to go. Nate had him trapped, and Cody wasn’t all that sure he wanted to escape anyway. “Nate, hang on.”
Nate didn’t stop kissing him. He just moved away from Cody’s lips to kiss his neck instead, pulling Cody tight against him. “What?” he asked, his breath warming Cody’s ear, making him shiver. “What’s wrong?”
“I, um . . .” Jesus, would he ever have a moment with Nate where he didn’t feel like he was about to cry? Cody’s throat was tight, his eyes welling up. Nate’s caresses were becoming difficult to resist, the hard bulge in Nate’s pants making everything seem far too real. “I don’t want it to be like last time.” And damn it, now his tears were coming faster, and he didn’t even have a graceful way to wipe his cheeks with Nate holding him so tight. “I can’t have you walk out of here and ignore me again. I can’t do that again. I can’t— God, I can’t—”