Once Upon a Gingerbread Reindeer

The bus came to a halt, and I checked to see where on the route we were as people alighted and boarded. I counted myself lucky that the timing of Ben’s invitation meant most of the rush hour madness had ended. When I turned away from the window, I noticed a man had taken the seat opposite me.

A very attractive man.

As soon as the thought hit me, I wanted to look away, only to find myself frozen by his open appraisal of me. For a moment, he stared straight at me, little laughter lines forming next to his light brown eyes. Then his gaze moved to take in my face, my upper body, and, finally, my jeans-clad legs. There was something intimate about his perusal of me, something that made me both excited and uncomfortable.

I allowed myself to follow his example, taking in his bald head, his wide shoulders, and the brown duffle coat he wore. His hands lay on a large white carton box on his lap, his fingers long, and… I blinked.

If there’d been any doubt whether his stare indicated interest, the rainbow-colored bracelet around his wrist removed it. The discovery made me wonder, though. Various people had told me in the past that my appearance was such that I could, if I wanted to, fly under anybody’s gaydar. Either the stranger opposite me was a very brave risk-taker, or his instincts were better than most.

He raised his hand, and like a mesmerized fool, I followed the movement until I found myself staring into his eyes, which twinkled with merriment. When the corners of my mouth inched upward as if some part of me wanted to smile back at him, I turned my head to the window and focused on the scenery.

What is wrong with me? I didn’t flirt, ever. The last time I’d gone through that rigmarole, I was still in college. These days, when I wanted to relieve some stress, I turned to my phone and the apps that had been created exactly for that purpose. Minimal interactions followed by maximum release worked just fine for me, especially since such hookups didn’t lead to complicated conversations after the act.

The streets we passed as the bus neared Monkstown were wall-to-wall Christmas. Decorations in gardens, lights in windows, and extravagantly decorated shopfronts all reminded me that only three weeks separated me from that day.

This time I didn’t try to hide my smile. I loved Christmas. Not for the same reason most other people did. It wasn’t getting together with friends and family I looked forward to, or even a lavish roast dinner. For me, the joy of Christmas stemmed from it being the easiest time of year to enjoy total isolation. My gigs would pause for ten days, and I could just adjourn to the privacy of my apartment without worrying about unexpected visitors or other engagements.

As the bus approached my destination, I got up and moved to the exit, only mildly surprised when Flirty Box Guy did the same. It was that sort of a day, where nothing happened according to plan, and the universe appeared to be laughing at me. When my admirer turned left toward a line of shops, I stared after him for a few long moments. It had been a while since anybody had managed to attract my attention, and while I wasn’t inclined to act on it or to ask myself why, I refused to deny myself the pleasure of memorizing his fine figure and imagining what he might look like without clothes. Who knew? I might even put him in one of my stories. I chuckled softly. Such a tale would be reserved for an adults-only event.