Taking Chances by John Goode Page A

say next.
    “It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Wallace,” I said, trying to break the tension.
    “It’s great seeing you too, Tyler,” he replied, quickly shaking my hand. “Say hi to your father next time you talk.”
    “I will, thanks,” I assured him as Matt ran upstairs to grab a change of clothes.
    Mrs. Wallace reappeared from the kitchen with a covered plate. “I packed you some leftovers,” she explained as she handed me the dish. “No one should be without a home-cooked meal around Christmas.”
    I might have argued with her if her cooking wasn’t as good as it was. Instead, I thanked her and took the plate. “Thank you, ma’am, this is very nice of you.”
    Mr. Wallace looked at her. “Ma’am? Someone raised the boy right.”
    I chuckled at that. “My dad is big on manners.”
    Just then, Matt clattered downstairs carrying a duffel bag. “I’m ready.”
    “Thank you again for having me over,” I said to them. “It was very nice of you.”
    “If we were nice, we would have waited until you weren’t here to fight,” Mrs. Wallace said pleasantly. “You boys have a good time.”
    “But not that good a time,” his father added. He glanced at Mrs. Wallace, and they both smiled mischievously. I think they’d waited a long time to be able to say that to Matt, and they were enjoying it.
    We, on the other hand, headed for the door before we died of embarrassment
    The night air was crisp and we walked quickly back to my house. If it had been any farther away than a couple of blocks, the cold would have been damned uncomfortable. I had the advantage of a warm plate full of leftovers to keep my hands from turning into ice cubes. Matt shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and kept up with me, walking silently. I could tell he had a lot on his mind, but he didn’t say anything until my house was within sight. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?” he finally asked me.
    “In coming over?” I asked him back, confused.
    “In the whole thing, I just don’t know what I’m doing with my life anymore. Every decision I make usually ends up being the wrong one. Then that decision leads to another decision and another until I’m stuck with a big pile of steaming….”
    I had heard rants like this before, usually coming from my own mouth. There were days I felt like I was the worst-case scenario of my life than the actual person living it. Like if you had looked at my life and came up with every bad decision a person could make without dying, that would be me. I wasn’t a real person, I was a cautionary tale for another me somewhere when the ghosts of Christmas Past showed up. But my meeting Matt felt different. Better. I wanted him to know it too.
    So I kissed him.
    At first, he didn’t react. Then, slowly, he began to melt into me, responding to the caress and, hopefully, forgetting about his unhappiness for one small second. I unlocked my front door and dragged him inside. Still kissing and nuzzling and nipping each other’s necks, we kicked the door shut, dropped our jackets, left the plate of food on the little chair in the hall, and headed for my room upstairs. By the time we made it there, we had left a trail of clothes on the steps. I kicked my bedroom door open and backed in, still kissing him.
    I turned him around and pushed him back onto my bed. For the moment, I smiled and forgot about all my doubts and fears. Pulling off my shirt, I moved toward him, giving way to the desire I’d felt since I saw him in the store.
    We stopped just before actual intercourse, not from lack of interest but because we both ended up finishing well before things got that far. Normally that wouldn’t have been an issue, but instead of working ourselves into another session of sex, we lay there with each other. He curled himself into my arms and I held him close, just enjoying the feeling of someone sleeping next to me.
    And it hit me, right at that moment, at that very second. I was happy. I was truly and