Claimed Before Christmas

Big Enough

“Julian?” I hear Phila calling from the back of the house. I feel the man in my arms freeze, his body going rigid against mine.

“Hey, we better head out there before my father walks in. Give me your number. I need to see you again,” he says, looking up and trying to catch my eyes.

But his thick glasses are reflecting the hallway light, obscuring them. Dammit. I can’t remember the last time I actually had to look at a guy asking for a number this passionately. Usually, they’re the ones finding ways to get mine, but this one felt so unique while asking for my number that there is no way I’m letting this one walk away. Something about him feels different. It feels right.

The guy lets out a soft, breathless chuckle and leans up on his tiptoes. He grazes my neck with his teeth and leaves a sharp, playful nip that makes my blood roar.

I nearly lose it right there. Before I can react, he pulls back, ducks under my arm, and disappears down the hallway. I watch him go, feeling like I just took a blindside hit from a linebacker. I find myself following him, unable to look away from the way he moves, not even connecting to the fact that his father is coming.

Dammit, he's really Julian, my friend's son.

“Julian! You’re home!” I see Phila scoop the guy up in a massive bear hug. Then I hear Lanette shout “Julian!” as she throws her arms around both of them. The family of three stands there, tangled in a happy embrace, and I’m just standing in the shadows with my jaw on the floor. I can't believe I was just about to get it on with my friend's son.

Well, f**k.

After a long second, I shake off the mental fog and grit my teeth, forcing a neutral expression onto my face before anyone notices my panic. My mind is racing through what almost happened. I should feel guilty, I should want to apologize to Julian and his parents, but I can’t find the will to regret it. I’ve never been so instantly floored by another person—and it’s pathetic considering he literally floored me.

Phila and Lanette turn to face me, beaming. “Julian, do you remember Elías? He’s an old friend of mine from the Tech days. He’s taking over as the head gymnastics coach at your school this year.”

Julian’s nose scrunches slightly at the mention of gymnastics. I step forward, forcing myself to be professional, and hold out my hand. He takes it, his grip surprisingly firm. “Good to see you again, Julian.” I let my thumb brush the inside of his wrist for just a second, feeling his heart rate spike.

“Hmm. Good to see you, too. Though I’m not sure I actually remember you.” I study him, not surprised. It was over a decade ago and we’d only met once. I was always on the road and rarely spent time at Phila’s place back then.

“Julian doesn’t have much use for sports; he’ll probably avoid you like the plague,” Phila jokes. I almost let out a dark laugh. If he only knew what had just happened between me and his good son in the hall a moment ago. That was definitely not avoidance. His son was pure calm water.

Reluctantly, I let go of his hand, and Lanette leads Julian toward the back deck to join the party. As they walk away, Julian looks back over his shoulder at me, one of those dimples he has flashing as that blush returns to his cheeks. My pulse thrums, and I curse under my breath. I duck into the bathroom and splash freezing water on my face, trying to snap out of it.

I stare at my reflection, giving myself a grim reality check. Jesus Christ. He’s your best friend’s son, and he just turned eighteen. Get a grip. I reach down to adjust myself, trying to hide the fact that I’m still pathologically hard and ready to f**k my friend's son.

When I finally join the family outside, I see Julian greeting the various guests who showed up for his homecoming and birthday. I grab my beer, sink into my patio chair, and just watch him.

Up close in the sunlight, I realize how young he actually looks. When he was pressed against me in the dark earlier on, I was focused on the friction and the heat between us, not his face.

His dark hair is a bit overgrown, falling into his eyes. Those eyes are sharp and intelligent, even behind the oversized frames. He’s wearing a shirt that fits his lean frame perfectly, with text that reads: "I never received my acceptance letter from Hogwarts, so I'm leaving the Shire to become a Jedi!"

I have no idea what that means, but it looks good on him. He’s got on loose, cuffed jeans and simple white sneakers.

If he weren’t so naturally striking, I’d think he was trying to hide. It looks like he just rolled out of bed and threw on whatever was clean—not exactly the typical "look at me" style of most guys his age.

I can’t stop my eyes from following him as he moves through the yard. Every so often, he catches my gaze. As the afternoon goes on, he gets bolder, letting his eyes linger on mine a second longer each time.

I try to look away, but it’s a losing battle. Looking around, I notice the crowd is almost entirely my age or older. Where are the teenagers? I shrug it off, assuming this is just the family event and he’ll go out with friends later.

“Coach Lava.”

I snap my head toward the voice. Cori, my enthusiastic gymnast, is standing at the sliding glass door. “You mentioned I could swing by and pick up that instruction manual today,” he says.

“Right. I’ll grab it for you.” I’d completely spaced on him coming over, and I know exactly who to blame for that distraction. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

I head upstairs to my temporary room and grab the manual off the desk. On my way out, I stop in front of Julian’s bedroom door. I’ve never had a reason to look inside, but I find myself pushing it open now.

I’m not sure what I expected—maybe typical teen posters and a messy floor—but this is a different world. The walls are a deep, vibrant green, and a detailed model of the solar system hangs from the ceiling. Every available surface is buried under books. Three high-end monitors dominate his desk, displaying a periodic table screensaver. The walls are covered in posters, half of which I don't understand. One specifically catches my eye: a NASA logo with the caption, “Dear NASA, Your Mom Thought I Was Big Enough.” I can’t help it; a loud bark of laughter escapes me.