His Secret Santa: A Phoenix Club novella

Chapter 1

"Hey, where you going?" Holden closed his locker and adjusted the books in his arms.

Jamie turned back and jerked his thumb down the hallway. "Come on. It's quicker this way."

Holden held his ground. "We have time. Let's just go around."

"Why?"

"You know why." Holden shifted the books. "That's... their hallway."

"Their hallway?" Jamie snorted. "We're seniors, too. It's just as much our hallway as theirs."

"Tell them that."

"What're they gonna do? Form a blockade and not let us pass?"

Holden shrugged. "They might."

"They won't."

"Jamie..."

Jamie smirked, a tease in his voice. "You don't want to go that way because Lincoln might be there."

True. But Holden wouldn't admit it. He didn't know why—Jamie knew all about his four-year crush on the quarterback. "It isn't about him," Holden offered up the weak lie.

Jamie looked skeptical, as he should be, and sighed. "They're full of hot air but they're harmless."

"No hate is harmless," Holden mumbled.

"I don't know if it's so much hate... as ribbing."

"Ribbing?" Holden smiled at his friend. "You're adorable. But ribbing is like teasing. They're not teasing when they say that crap to us. And anyway, I'm not scared of them. I just don't feel like dealing with them. They're mentally exhausting."

"Well, at least Lincoln has never said anything mean to you."

Also, true—but that was because Holden was invisible to the guy. Lincoln Pratt hadn't given him the time of day since he showed up at their school freshman year. They hadn't so much as made eye contact. The rare times Lincoln glanced his way, his eyes passed right through Holden like he wasn't there.

"I told you, it has nothing to do with Lincoln."

"Everything with them has to do with him. You know it's true."

Holden groaned. "He's just a... fantasy. And it's a lot easier to keep the fantasy alive the less I encounter him."

"You never know." Jamie grinned and nudged him. "The reality may be better than the fantasy."

"Yeah, right." Holden rolled his eyes. "Like that ever happens. The fantasy is always better." He shook his head. "Reality sucks."

Jamie pursed his lips, a grin struggling to break loose.

"What?"

"Nothing." He laughed. "Just my mind crawling through the gutter."

"How did you get a gutter-crawl out of what I said?"

"Reality sucks."

Holden frowned. "What?"

"I just got this image of the real Lincoln Pratt on his knees—"

"Ok. Ok. I got it." The image exploded through Holden's mind in lifelike detail.

Jamie chuckled. "Nice image, huh?"

"That's a fantasy image—not a reality one." A burning ache spread through Holden's loins—it was one of his most-visited fantasies. "I still don't get how you're so comfortable with this gay sex talk when you're straight as an arrow."