His Secret Santa: A Phoenix Club novella

Chapter 15

Remove your mask and show your face.

This had been the plan all along; to reveal his identity to Holden. But that was before things had turned to shit days ago. He'd had it all figured out, what he would say. He'd meant for this to be his Secret Santa gift to Holden.

Now... everything was messed up. Holden had stood right there and admitted how Lincoln had hurt him—in the school parking lot and at the party.

How would Holden react when he discovered the stripper was Lincoln?

Not good. Lincoln was sure of it.

Holden stared at him, waiting.

"I, uh..." Lincoln swallowed as his throat tightened. What could he say to prepare Holden for this revelation? What if Holden walked out and didn't give him a chance to explain?

"I know," Holden whispered, a catch in his voice.

"Know... what?" Lincoln tensed.

Holden swallowed, his throat working. "I know who you are."

Lincoln went numb from head to toe; he knew? "Wh-what? How...?"

"Your... tattoo." Holden's voice trembled as his eyes drifted down to Lincoln's chest. "You weren't wearing a shirt that night in your room. I saw the tattoo."

The tattoo...

At the party, when Troy and the others shoved Holden into his room, his shock had blanked out everything except the fact that Holden Dunkel—the boy of his dreams—was standing naked in his bedroom. The reality that his tattoo was on display for Holden hadn't crossed his mind.

He's known it was me since the party.

"You knew," Lincoln whispered, tremors running through his entire body. "But... but you still came here tonight." His legs felt weak. "Why?"

Holden shrugged as the skin around his eyes flushed a bit and tears formed. The strain on his face betrayed his struggle not to break down and cry.

"I don't know," Holden managed, his words hardly audible. "Maybe for answers, or... or maybe I just wanted to call you out on your bullshit."

Anger simmered beneath his hurt, bubbling just below the surface.

"Bullshit?"

"What would you call it?" Holden rasped.

"Holden..." Lincoln started, but the other boy cut him off.

"What was this?" Holden choked, his anger breaking the surface. "Some elaborate prank you cooked up with McKenna and your friends?"

Lincoln frowned. "No..."

"Is that how McKenna knew I liked you? Because you told her after..." His chin trembled as pain and fury scorched his watery eyes. "... after the last time we... we were together?"

Lincoln stared at him, shocked. "What?" he breathed shakily. "Holden, no... that isn't—"

"Are you recording all this?" Holden choked down a sob as his anger surged. "A hidden camera somewhere? So you can show your friends what a fag I really am?"

Lincoln was shaking. "Holden, stop it," he pleaded, tears welling.

There was no stopping it. The floodgates were open, and Holden wasn't holding back.

"You really took one for the team, didn't you?" Holden's face pinched in anguish and... betrayal? "Blowing me the last time? And you were gonna do it again." His chin quivered and a tear slipped free, rolling down his cheek. "Now that's dedication."