Sno Ho (2 page)

I stood up and went back into Wade's kitchen, rifling through the cabinets until I found a bottle of Advil. I poured out five and popped them in my mouth. I went to the sink and bent over, sucking in the water directly from the stream coming out of the faucet. My eyes drifted toward that wonderful view. Whoever the big-dicked-mother-fucker Wade was, he was certainly lucky to have that view.

I wondered for a split second about the man sleeping upstairs. He was, if nothing else, strikingly handsome, sort of a more beefed version of Christopher Reeves with his wavy black hair and cheekbones to die for. I briefly considered the possibility of dating Superman and then rolled my eyes. I'd had enough drama in the past twenty four hours as it was.

12

Sn Ho

by Ethan Day

"You just can't seem to help yourself can you?" I mumbled. I loved men who were nothing like...me. My worst nightmare would be to wind up marrying myself. I honestly couldn't think of anything less exciting. I needed to be challenged, forced to look at things from other perspectives.

I'm a writer damn it. I crave what I do not understand. And while I guess that always made for a very exciting love life, it had also been my very own, little slice of hell at times.

Hearing a honk, I turned and dashed into the living room, snatching up my things off the table. I yanked my coat off the rack by the door. I slipped it on, sucking in my breath as I opened the door, greeted not so gently by the cold. I tried to quietly close the door until I thought I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye coming from the stairs. I slammed the door and ran like mad for the cab. I was certainly in no mood, or condition, to face my trick. I climbed into the cab and shut the door, asking the driver to take me back to the lodge. Back to the cabin Phillip had rented for us to spend our anniversary in. No more tricks for this kid, I thought, refusing to look back at the house as the cab pulled away.

* * * *

He'd set up these lessons and bought me all the gear and clothes, teaching me how to put it all on before I left. The sick 13

Sn Ho

by Ethan Day

part was he knew he was going to break up with me while he was doing it. I'd now come to the conclusion this was all part of my severance package, the trip, the gifts, the ski lessons.

Phillip's way of buying off his guilt I assumed, if he did indeed actually possess the humility for such an emotion.

I stopped, adjusting the skis in my arms. The army green pants I wore looked like normal old cargo pants, and I did like the matching parka with the faux fur trimmed hood. The warm snuggly layers of oatmeal colored shirts and sweaters, the ski boots, it had all cost him like nine or ten thousand dollars. It was nuts, a ludicrous amount of money, but if nothing else, at least I looked the part. I planned on selling it all on eBay when I got back home. Maybe I could use the money to buy myself a second vacation on a beach somewhere?

I looked up as a couple passed by me coming from the opposite direction. They barely noticed my presence as they giggled and stared at one another all googley-eyed, his dimpled smile and rosy cheeks, her long perky blonde curls bouncing. It was disgusting! I resisted the urge to call back at them, informing the ill-fated lovers it would never last, that their happiness was fleeting. The harbinger of love-death would soon be upon them! It made me smile to think it, even though I didn't say it.

I lifted my skis, tucked them under my arm and began walking toward the main lodge. The massive five story building, with its new European-style architecture, seemed well matched to the natural environment. Despite being newer construction, the lodge seemed to fit in perfectly with 14

Sn Ho

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the sleepy little Victorian mountain town that was Summit City. It had sixty or seventy rooms in the main lodge along with the smaller single occupancy chalets that dotted the grounds for those people, like Phillip, who enjoyed their privacy. Whoever designed the place had done a great job of taking advantage of all the views. There were two towers on the main lodge on opposite corners, one provided views of the valley and town below, the other of the mountain. I rounded the side of the lodge to find other guests and attendants, all busying about going to and from, while twisting the knife in my gut by laughing and having a grand old time.

"The tram should be back around any minute," a young man called out to me from the entrance area.

I nodded and smiled, contemplating whether or not I should just walk up the road to the ski lift area. It wasn't that far, and despite still feeling a smidge funky from my hangover when I'd left the cabin, the cool air and exercise appeared to be doing the trick. As I started to step off the curb the small tram rounded the corner. Already late for my lesson as it was, I decided to hop on and ride up after all.

As the glorified tractor/trolley bounced up the slight incline of the road, I let out a sigh. I knew exactly why I wasn't all that upset about Phillip breaking things off, but I refused to admit it to myself. It seemed wrong to let the prick off the hook for the shitty way he dumped me. But I had indeed, come to realize that I hadn't actually been in love with the
man
so much as the idea of him. What a waste of a year, I thought as the tram came to a stop at the ski lift area.

15

Sn Ho

by Ethan Day

I hopped out, back into the snow and slid my skis and poles out, fighting with them as I tried to gain control with my uncoordinated limbs. This was a bad idea, and I knew it, but I'd spent all morning and my entire lunch trying to piece together what the hell had happened the night before. I'd driven myself crazy attempting to suss it out. So, despite having no interest in skiing, here I was. I needed a distraction from the gnawing nit-pickiness that was my over active brain.

Skiing was one of those sports that looked easy, therefore I knew it was going to be ridiculously difficult to learn.

I finally started crunching my way through the snow and headed up to the ski shack to figure out where the hell I was supposed to be. I felt the scowl take over my face as my brain forced me back over the events I
could
remember from the night before. I hated losing time, so to speak, despite thinking it might be my subconscious way of removing any and all proof of my inner-slutiness. Apparently I had no issues being a man-whore so long as I couldn't remember it.

I remembered the cab ride from the lodge down into the town. It hadn't been my intention to drink, I just felt like being around people. After Phillip called and dropped the axe on our relationship, that intimate, luxurious cabin, which up

'til then had felt romantic and dreamy, suddenly made me feel desolate and very much alone. I knew trying to write in my stunned capacity was pointless, so down the mountain I went in search of the comfort that only the closeness of strangers could provide.

The heat in the taxi hadn't seemed to be working, so by the time I made it into the small pub called Staggs, I felt like 16

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by Ethan Day

a little gay-cicle. It was warm and cozy inside, the rolling and crackling fire, amber hazy lighting, and the chatter and laughter of the other patrons was pretty much the shot in the arm I'd needed. I sat down at the dark wood bar which was a square sitting in the middle of the room with tables spreading out like satellites as if orbiting around it. I immediately felt as though I'd been given a hug...it put a huge smile on my face as one of the two guys behind the bar came to greet me.

"Nice to see a smiling face," he said, wiping the top of the bar in front of me. "You look a little frozen."

I felt my smile fade wishing he hadn't drawn attention to it.
Hello...supposed to be in mourning, dude!
"Bitterly cold." I got out, going through that odd state that was somewhere between freezing and warmth. When your cheeks began to feel hot but your teeth were still slightly chattering.

"How 'bout something hot," the cutie asked as I did a double take noticing the other guy behind the bar was an identical twin. "I'm Chip." He extended a hand across the bar.

"My brother, Dean," he added with a backward nod as if he felt I might actually need that type of clarification.

I laughed a little, shaking my head and raising an eyebrow. "Boone." I took his hand and shook, taking note of the way his thumb lightly grazed the back of my hand. He winked and smiled devilishly before letting go, resting his hands on the edge of the bar.

I immediately inventoried his dimpled-cuteness as I smiled back. He had short hair, spiked up a bit into a point on top.

Obviously the trendier of the two, he was in one of those form fitting t-shirts that looked as if it had an elaborate giant tattoo 17

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by Ethan Day

imprinted on it. His thermal underwear sticking out of the short sleeves, it fit snuggly enough to show off his tight little body. He was a little on the short side...compact, wearing low-rise jeans which showcased a nice bubble butt. Chip's twin was wearing un-tucked flannel and jeans...either very straight or very lazy. Not in the door five minutes and already being hit on.
Not bad Boone, not bad at all
.

"An Irish coffee will warm you right up."

I hadn't realized Ireland grew coffee beans, but the combo of heat and caffeine sounded heavenly. "Sounds great, I'll give it a try." Take that, Juan Valdez, I thought, chuckling a bit figuring I was about to have the worst cup of coffee ever.

As Chip went off to get my coffee I thought about the state of my affairs. All in all my life was pretty cushy. I'd written seven novels...well started seven novels I should say. For some reason I couldn't ever seem to finish them, but I kept plugging away at it, beginning a new one each time I'd get stuck on the last one. Someday I knew I'd finish them. I just needed—something.

I'd had an uncle who'd been an architect, my Mom's brother. They were best friends, he was older than she, always looked out for her. I think Mom actually loved him more than she did my Dad. Uncle Barry had been killed in a car wreck my freshman year at University. He'd left me his estate, which consisted of a small 1300 square foot remodeled Pueblo style bungalow that he'd restored himself, and a BMW which I still drive to this day. It, of course, now appeared to be more rust than metal, teetering on the brink of falling to pieces from the next strong breeze. There had 18

Sn Ho

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also been enough money to pay off said home and car, with plenty left over to afford college. Mom always thought Uncle Barry did it for her, but deep down, I knew he did it realizing he and I were each another type of
family
. His boyfriend had died with him in the crash. It was all very sad, although as sick as it sounded, I was a little glad he hadn't been alone in those final moments. Somehow that made it seem less horrible?

I held a part time job working in medical records for the local hospital, which paid enough to cover my base living expenses and allowed me the luxury of writing books I couldn't finish, while not having to worry about living on the streets. Worse than anything, was the knowledge I now had to go back home and see Phillip on a regular basis at work. I thought it was like fate or something, considering we met each other on vacation in Colorado, despite both living in the same city
and
working in the same hospital. My Dad had always told me not to shit where I eat. I was now seriously wishing I'd listened.

I felt a heat pass over my body and sort of wiggled on my bar stool. It was strange, unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. I was beginning to suspect something paranormal had just occurred when I looked around the room. That was the first time I saw him, the man who would be cast in the role of ass-abusing-trick before the evening had ended...aka Wade the man-wall. He was sitting across the bar in a booth next to the fire place. He was staring at me with a look that was unmistakable. Eyes full of wanton-lusty goodness. I noticed that it was difficult to swallow as I forced my gaze away from 19

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his. I exhaled, feeling my nipples constrict and my cock already reacting. I felt naked, unable to move as if I'd been pinned down to the stool, and if nothing else, my body was lovin' it.

I jumped a little as Chip sat the coffee mug down in front of me. It had what looked like whipped cream floating on the top. I looked up and smiled weakly, still attempting to catch my breath.

"You don't
really
want that," Chip stated in a slightly pleading tone.

"Huh?" I was hoping he wasn't referring to what I assumed he was.

"It's just so...stereotypical." He smiled with an orneriness that was adorable. "The big, hunky, muscled, uber-hetero acting gay man? Really...you're
that
guy?"

I felt my face burn slightly as I laughed. "And what would you suggest as an alternative?" I took a sip of my Irish coffee and nearly choked as I swallowed feeling the burn of the coffee mixed with the burn of the alcohol. "Good Christ, my hell!" Chip placed his elbows on the bar and folded his arms as my eyes began to water.

"Good?" he asked with a wink as I realized it wasn't the coffee beans that made it Irish...it was the whisky.

"That's some strong coffee." I took a deep breath and looked down at the cup. "Fuck me."

"If that was an offer then the answer is yes." Chip gave me a half smile and looked into my eyes dreamily.

I smiled and took another sip, thinking Chip was downright adorable and feeling the alcohol and heat begin to make my 20

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by Ethan Day

brain all tingly. "So you're offering yourself up as a willing sacrifice to keep me from making the biggest mistake of my life by bedding down the muscle-that-hustles over there?"