CHAPTER 1
LUKE
Ten Years Ago…
The high school Christmas Spectacular was about to start. Meanwhile, I hid in my dressing room, cursing the day I ever agreed to be Santa for the grand finale. The problem wasn’t stage fright. It was the damned pants.
The bright red velvet material was thin, soft, and clingy, and it hugged my junk like a second skin. One look in the dressing room mirror confirmed my manhood was on full display, leaving nothing to the imagination. Wearing loose boxer shorts had been a mistake.
I yanked at the waistband to adjust things, but no matter how I positioned the pants, they continued showing off Santa’s South Pole. Every movement sent it waggling like a curious elephant’s trunk, snuffling around for peanuts. It would have been funny if I didn’t have to be on stage in like ten minutes.
My parents were out there. My brothers. Mygrandmother. I groaned in dismay and did a little wiggle of my thighs, hoping things might, erm, settle into a more appropriate position. Nodice. I had begged my family not to come, but they wouldn’t miss my debut performance for anything in the world. Not out of support, or love. They all thought the whole thing was hilarious. I doubted they would be laughing if I strutted out there like Santa Cock, dangling my dongle without a care in the world.
Beginning to lose hope, I tried tugging Santa’s coat down to cover my shame, but the costume had been made for a much shorter person. The jacket stopped at my waist, hiding nothing. Hunching over helped a little, but I couldn’t stay that way for the whole finale. Real panic flared inside me. There was no way I could go out there hanging salami like I ran a deli counter. The stage lights were unforgiving enough.
I growled in frustration. I was a quarterback, not a theater kid. Icalledplays. I didn’t perform in them.
I should bail. Out the back door, across the parking lot, through the trail to the adjoining neighborhood.
I peeked my head out the dressing room door and looked into the backstage area. All the students chattered with excitement except me. Unlike the rest of these nerds, who considered this a worthy and pleasant use of their time, I had been forced to be there.
I was failing Mrs. Fletcher’s senior English class and Coach Hammond had worked out a deal with her. She needed a Santa for her Christmas play, and I needed extra credit to bring up my grade. It had seemed like a win-win.
Until I put the pants on.
Passing English meant playing in the state championship in a few weeks, which meant getting recruited to a good college team, which meant a shot at going pro. Which meant this Christmas play?
It had become the single most important night of my life.
I spotted my best friend, Nic, talking to a hot little elf in striped leggings and a green tunic. She had a clipboard in herhand like she ran the show, and something about her bossy expression lit a fire in me. It did not help the situation in my pants.
Neither did the velvet material of the costume. No one had warned me how good it would feel against my skin. I was a football player who’d been raised on a cattle ranch. I wore rough and tumble stuff like denim, meant for wrangling cows and riding the range. In comparison, the whisper-soft velvet was like an angel’s sigh over every inch of skin it touched.
“Fucking jingle bells,” I swore.
Deep breaths, I told myself.Keep it together. Bad enough you’re waggling your worm like you’re fishing for trout. Don’t get a boner now.
“Nic, get over here,” I called.
His head snapped around and he grinned at the sight of me in the Santa coat. “Look at this jolly dickhead.”
“Nic, watch it,” Mrs. Fletcher’s voice chided from somewhere in the chaos.
“Sorry, Mrs. Fletcher.” He jogged over to me and went to push his way into the dressing room. “What’s up, man?”
I held the door firm, keeping my lower half out of sight. “You can’t come in.”
Nic was a linebacker on the team with me. If he wanted to get in, he could, but he respected my boundaries.
“Why can’t I come in? Is Dixie in there?” Nic tried to look through the gap in the door like he might see my cheerleader girlfriend. “Is she helping Santa empty his sack?”
“No, she’s got her own dressing room,” I said. “She’s the Spirit of Christmas. She didn’t want me bothering her. Said she needed to get into character.”
“Oh, damn, so Dixie was the other senior who stole that part from my sister?” His expression grew stormy. “Clara wassupposed to be the Spirit of Christmas, but then someone complained to Mrs. Fletcher and now she’s stuck being an elf.”
I sighed and shook my head. “I didn’t know your little sister had the part. Dixie told me she was going after that role. Sorry, man. I would have tried to stop her if I knew.”
“She’s the worst, bro. Kick her ass to the curb and tell her it’s for Clara.” Nic looked back over at the hot little elf. “She put a ton of work into this play. All these sets? She designed them. She loves all this theater stuff.”
