He pauses while pulling on his tight shorts—the ones that first caught my eye on the dancefloor. “It really was,” he agrees, his voice warm. “You did good, Big Guy.”
I chuckle, propping myself up on my elbows. “Right back at you, Mystery Man.”
He finishes dressing and comes to sit on the edge of the bed. His hand finds mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “For what it’s worth, this was probably the best New Year’s Eve I’ve had in a long time.”
“Me too,” I admit, and it’s the truth.
He leans in, his lips brushing mine in a soft, lingering kiss. “Happy New Year,” he whispers against my mouth before pulling away.
I watch him walk to the door, a strange mix of emotions swirling in my chest. “Happy New Year,” I call out as he reaches for the handle.
He turns, flashing me one last smile before slipping into the hall. The click of the door closing echoes in the sudden silence of the room.
I flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. What the hell just happened? It was supposed to be a simple hookup, a way to ring in the new year with a bang—pun absolutely intended.
I close my eyes, picturing his smile, the way he moved, the unexpected kindness in his gestures. For the first time in years, I find myself curious about someone, wanting to know more.
“Who are you?” I wonder aloud, a mix of longing and curiosity settling in my chest as sleep begins to claim me.
CHAPTER 3
CASPIAN
I zip up my suitcase, the sound echoing in the empty hotel room. My fingers linger on the cool metal and heat creeps up my spine as memories from two nights ago flood back.
The mysterious stranger’s touch still burns on my skin, phantom kisses trailing down my neck. I close my eyes, reliving the intensity, the raw connection that sparked between us. Who was he? Why did I agree to keep it anonymous?
Way to go, Caspian. Have the hottest night of your life and fail to get a number. Or a name. Smooth.
But even as I berate myself, I can’t shake the feeling something has shifted. There was something…different about him. Something that made my heart race in a way it never has before.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. No point thinking about it or wishing for a repeat. The guy was probably not even local. Besides, I have a new life to start.
I had one goal that night. Have fun and get a good dicking. I got both.
I pat my pocket for my wallet, and when I get it out, my gaze falls on the tip of the worn photo tucked into it—Mom smiling brightly in front of Special Blend, the coffee shop on Maple Street that, all these years later, I’m about to take over and make mine. Her voice echoes in my mind, warm and wistful, as she described her hometown.
“Oh, honey, you would love it there,” she’d say, eyes twinkling. “The way the leaves change in the fall, like the whole world’s on fire. And in winter? It’s like stepping into a snow globe.”
She always described Maplewood as a haven for queer people. A place where everyone knows everyone and you’re accepted no matter who you are. When I asked her why she never went back to Maplewood, all she ever said was she didn’t have family there anymore, so there was no one to go back to.
A lump forms in my throat, grief mingling with anticipation. “I wish you could see me now, Mom,” I whisper. “I’m finally doing it. I’m going to Maplewood.”
I zip up my jacket, the chill of Vermont already seeping into my bones. But there’s warmth in my chest, a spark of hope igniting as I think about the coffee shop waiting for me, the new life I’m about to build.
“Alright, Maplewood,” I say, hefting my bags. “Let’s see what you’ve got in store for me.”
My car hums along the winding Vermont roads, a stark contrast to the gridlocked streets of Phoenix I’ve left behind. Snow-capped mountains loom in the distance, their peaks piercing a sky so blue it almost hurts to look at.
My GPS chirps, alerting me to an upcoming turn. As I navigate the car around a bend, my heart does a little flip. A wooden sign appears, dusted with fresh snow:Welcome to Maplewood: Vermont’s Queerest Town.
The town unfolds before me like a postcard come to life. Charming storefronts line Maple Street, their windows frosted and twinkling with fairy lights. People bundled in colorful scarves and hats stroll along the sidewalks, greeting each other with warm smiles.
I slow the car, drinking in every detail. “This is…wow. It’s like I’ve driven straight into a Hallmark movie.”
A group of kids dash past, laughing as they pelt each other with snowballs. The sound of their joy is infectious.
“No way this is real,” I muse, parking the car to take it all in. “Where are the grumpy people? The honking horns? The soul-crushing rush hour traffic?”
