Chrissy Munder
Better With Sprinkles [2]
Better With Sprinkles
Dedicated to Elsie, and to those who give freely of their time
and dedication without judgment or prejudice. Thank you for
caring enough to make my second experience with HIV testing
much more pleasant and dignified than my first.
I
H
E WAS
so screwed. Tom Molina stared at his organic
chemistry textbook, the volume a heavy weight on his lap
even with his right foot tucked up under his opposite thigh
for support. Despite his struggles to focus, the dark letters
kept blurring, swirling into unreadable patterns before his
tired eyes. Tom pulled his glasses off his nose and set the
thick, plastic frames on the end table next to the three, half-
empty coffee mugs, silent testaments to his studies. A
headache pushed its way to the front of his skull, the dull
ache settling behind his left eye, and he pressed the heel of
his hand against his forehead with a groan. Great. He didn’t
have time for a migraine. And, thanks to his roommate
Derek’s fondness for the movie Kindergarten Cop, all he
could hear was Arnold Schwarzenegger’s voice proclaiming
“It’s a tumor,” and that wasn’t even Arnold’s line in the
comedy.
Tom always thought the joke about studying until your
head exploded was kind of lame, but here he sat, brains
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Better With Sprinkles [3]
ready to splatter in vivid Technicolor out over everything
within a ten-foot radius. Possibly twelve-foot, Tom conceded
as the painful throbbing increased. Would the bookstore
take back his textbook if he sprayed blood and gray matter
on the pages? Did he care? Tom leaned his head against the
pillow wedged beneath his shoulder, shifting until his legs
sprawled down the length of the couch. Damn, they’d have to
clean the upholstery too.
Barely ten o’clock on a Saturday morning, and his life
was over. He was doomed. Worse, his plans for the future lay
in ruins, buried beneath the weight of student loan debt and
no way to ever pay for it all. Forget about a prestigious
career, the awards for his breakthroughs in medicinal
biochemistry, and best of all, the satisfaction of showing his
parents what he achieved without them. He wasn’t even
going to finish out the semester. All Tom had left in his
future were soup kitchens and homeless shelters. The
throbbing in his head increased in direct proportion with his
drama-fueled panic. Maybe if he gave himself just a few
minutes to rest, things would magically get better?
“Help me, oh great roommate. You’re my only hope.”
Tom grunted, eyes flying open as Derek’s full weight fell
across his legs, trapping them against the couch and
knocking his textbook onto the floor. He had been so
wrapped up in his crisis, he hadn’t noticed Derek’s key in
the front door.
“What the hell?” Tom swallowed, suddenly doubting the
wisdom of revisiting last night’s three-meat special for
breakfast. “Get off me before I vomit.”
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“Promise you’ll help me, first.” Derek wrapped his arms
tighter around Tom’s legs and the cushion beneath.
“I’m serious,” Tom said. “I swear I’m going to hurl.”
“So am I.” Derek buried his head between Tom’s knees,
leaving the stubby, blond ponytail at the back of his neck
exposed. “Do your worst. This is bigger than puke.”
Tom pushed at Derek’s heavy bulk. He might be short,
but the guy was built like a fireplug. Well, at least the wave
of nausea had thankfully receded. “Man, I have two words
for you: Organic Chemistry and Professor McCafferty.”
“That’s five words.” Tom had to strain to hear Derek’s
voice muffled against his thigh.
“No, that’s two words used twice and a joiner word
thingy.” Tom nudged Derek with his knee. “And get your face
out from between my legs.”
“Joiner word thingy?” Apparently realizing the danger
had past, Derek dared to raise his head. “Besides, I’m the
best thing you’ve had between your legs in months, if not the
only.”
Tom shrugged off his roommate’s mocking. It was hard
to take Derek seriously. His face was all red and sweaty and
escaping chunks of blond hair helped him resemble a
deranged cherub. So what if Tom’s tired and overworked
brain refused to spit out the correct grammatical term. He
wasn’t an English major. Or had a lot of time to spend
dating. He had plans.
“Whatever. My entire future is riding on this test.” He
wiggled his legs in another effort to free himself. “So you go
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Better With Sprinkles [5]
back to doing whatever you were doing, and let me keep
studying.”
The two men stared at each other. Brown eyes and blue
met across the distance in a silent battle of wills.
“Alone,” Tom emphasized when Derek showed no signs
of obeying.
“I will. But, first, you know how to make Christmas
cookies, right?” Derek shoved Tom’s legs out of the way and
took their place on the couch. “I remember those ones you
made when you were dating that one guy.”
“What one guy?” Exasperated, Tom ran his hand
through his hair before he reached for his glasses.
“You know, the cookie-eater guy?”
Oh yeah, Mike. Tom’s brain automatically filled in the
details of the redhead who went along with the name. Nice
butt in the plus column, but an overdone tribal tattoo and
his distinct lack of bicep definition in the minus. They had
dated for a couple of months last semester, and Tom would
now confess to making a batch or two of his grandmother’s
special sugar cookies to aid his efforts to get into Mike’s
pants. Unfortunately, Mike turned out to be too unfocused
for Tom’s tastes.
Tom wondered if being able to actually understand
Derek’s convoluted thought process was a sign he really did
have a tumor pressing on his brain and causing his
migraines. No wonder he couldn’t make any sense of the last
three chapters. Right. Chapters. Test. Studying. Tom stood
up slowly, surprised to find his headache had fled in the face
of the disaster that was Derek. “Fine. I’ll go to the library.
You can have the apartment.”
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Better With Sprinkles [6]
“You can’t,” Derek said. “I need you and your mad,
cookie-making skills.”
Tom pushed aside Derek’s coat, and picked up his
favorite wool scarf discarded just as carelessly. “Did I say
you could borrow this? I think I would remember if I told you
it was okay to borrow this.” He poked through the mess of
footwear kicked to the side of the front door for his boots.
Only two of them lived there, where did they get so many
shoes? “I need to study.”
“And I need to get into Jeanette Carlson’s pants. It’s
vital. Otherwise, I don’t know, something’s going to fall off.
Which would totally suck and be all your fault.”
“Derek, I love you, man. I do. But nobody believes that
crap.” Giving up the search for his boots, Tom shoved his
feet into a pair of tennis shoes he thought were his, and
walked over to the kitchen table for his wallet and keys. He
put off grabbing his backpack and books from the floor,
unwilling to move back within Derek’s reach.
“You did when Jimmy Francisco told you that’s what
would happen if you didn’t blow him.” Derek folded his arms
across his chest and stared at Tom.
“I was thirteen. So was he.”
“You still owe me for saving your ass. We’re talking teen-
geek abuse or something. You would have been scarred for
life.”
“Fine. My delicate psyche thanks you.” Tom glared at
his friend. “Now will you please let me live down yet another
embarrassing life moment and allow me to study?”
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Better With Sprinkles [7]
“And how about in high school? I played lookout so you
and what’s-his-name the football player could make out in
the locker room?”
Tom pulled out one of the chairs at the kitchen table
and sat down, facing his friend with a deep exhalation. “Why
do I live with you when all you do is bring up my sordid,
sexual history every time you want something?”
“Because we’ve been best friends since kindergarten?”
Tom ignored Derek’s cheerful smile and rubbed at his
forehead. Bastard was wearing him down.
“Because I already knew you were gay before you told
me and never cared?”
Tom almost gave him points for that one, but took them
back when he remembered Derek was the one who
accidentally outed him to his parents earlier than planned.
Thus creating the reason Tom was so far in debt for his
education.
“Because my dad promised to pay for this apartment off
campus if you lived with me and kept me out of trouble?”
Tom pointed his finger at Derek in acknowledgement of
the scoring point. Yeah, that was it. “I’m going to fail my test.
Miserably.”
“My dad will still let you live in the apartment, you
know.”
“That’s not the point! The point is I need to study.”
Tom’s headache made a valiant comeback.
“Seriously? You need to relax. It’s one test, and we’re
only days away from the Christmas break. No matter what
scenario you’ve created, flunking a test won’t disrupt that
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Better With Sprinkles [8]
master plan you keep in your head of how you think things
should go.”
Tom grunted his acknowledgement of their familiar
argument. Besides, how was he supposed to take Derek
seriously when his friend had squiggled around on his back,
dangled off the side of the couch, and spoke to him while
upside down? “That’s called being motivated.”
“Try being afraid to have a life. It was one thing in high
school, after your folks made you move out. I get that. But
three years here at college, and you’re so busy running
around following this plan, you miss the things right in front
of you.”
“Like what?” Tom ducked as Derek pulled a foam rubber
ball from the depths beneath the sofa and threw it at him.
“You missed.”
“I don’t know.” Derek balanced the top of his head on
the floor as he reached further under the couch. “How about
having fun, helping others out, just enjoying life?”
“Helping you out,” Tom said knowingly. Okay, maybe he
had been wrapped a little too tight the last couple of weeks.
“Hey, I’m a worthy cause. And have you seen Jeanette
Carlson?”
“Obviously not,” Tom replied.
“After weeks of not giving me the time of day, we talk
cookies, and she’s all over me. Besides, what if in return I
promise you extra tutoring from Professor McCafferty’s old
TA?” Derek suddenly pulled his hand back and stared at it
in disgust.
Chrissy Munder
Better With Sprinkles [9]
“Isaac the Terrible?” Tom couldn’t help but breathe the
name in awe. He had spent his first two years in the program
positive he was going flunk his core courses due to his
inability to get past the absolute smoking blond hotness that
was Isaac Peterson and focus on the work. Add in the
teaching assistant’s insistence on calling on Tom in class
despite his vocal chords refusal to form complete sentences,
and Tom’s hopeless infatuation had been impossible to hide,
leaving him the butt of his friend’s jokes even after the TA
received his master’s degree and disappeared from campus.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” Tom forgave Derek the smug smile on his face.
This was after all, Isaac Peterson they were talking about.
He’d acknowledge Derek’s right to smugness assuming he
actually delivered. “You help me out, and in return you could
finagle hours of chemical bonding with the TA of your
dreams.”
“This doesn’t involve lasting physical marks or impact
my future career options?” Tom asked suspiciously.
Common sense demanded he examine Derek’s proposal with
more caution, but the sudden wash of memories, hours
spent watching Isaac bend and flex in front of the classroom
and form his looping scrawl across the whiteboard, left Tom
weak and open to persuasion.
“This is the man you’ve been jerking off to for the last
three years. Do you care?”
Well, when Derek put it like that. No. But it didn’t say a
lot for the thickness of the apartment’s walls.
“All you need are cookies?”
“Yep.”
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Better With Sprinkles [10]
“How many?” Tom knew this would prove too good to be
true when Derek’s eyes shifted away from his. Either that or
the rush of blood had finally overwhelmed Derek, and he was
going to pass out.
“Only about twenty or so,” Derek mumbled as he rolled
over onto his stomach, his face pressed into the bottom of
the couch.
“Cookies?” Tom prodded, certain he was still missing
something.
“Dozen.”
II
“S
O
,”
T
OM
said, raising his voice over the blaring holiday
music. “You’re serious about this cookie-making thing? We
should make sure before I spend all your money.”
Foolish question, seeing as how they were already at the
store. Tom grabbed one of the store-provided antibacterial
wipes in a futile attempt to clean off a shopping cart while he
waited for the fog caused by the sudden temperature change
to clear from his glasses. If there was a downside to his
major, knowing just how many germs and bacteria the
average human left in their wake, especially during the
winter, happened to be one of them.
The small square of fiber tore instead of wiped, and Tom
handed it to Derek, soiled-side up in an effort to prove the
dangers all around them. Derek just shrugged and balled the
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material up, tossing the crumbled ball behind a display of
baked beans. They stood in the middle of the canned
vegetable aisle of the super-sized grocery mart off campus,
and Tom studied the overhead signs to find the right row. He
liked baking—he really did. It was chemistry after all, only
with a deliciously edible outcome—but not when he should
be studying.
“You bet.” Derek nodded in enthusiastic answer to
Tom’s question. “I’m thinking we can try for four kinds,
maybe five dozen of each kind. Make sure you buy plenty of
toppings for the sugar ones. Everything’s always better with
sprinkles.”
“Sprinkles are cool,” the petite brunette shadowing
Derek’s footsteps replied on cue.
Tom smiled politely and turned back to Derek. She was
cute, her red, puffy jacket and knit hat attractive contrasts
to her dark, curly hair. But he still hadn’t figured out why
she was there. All he knew was her name was Laura, she
owned an ancient Honda Civic, and she had apparently
offered a ride to the store to spare them from taking the bus
in the snow. Well, that, and she had a crush on Derek the
size of the Grand Canyon, according to him. Tom had his
doubts, which made her presence even odder.
“Granny Molina’s sugar cookie recipe alone guarantees
our success,” Derek boasted to her.
Tom watched as Derek beamed his manic smile toward
Laura, his roommate so self-involved, he didn’t notice when
she just rolled her eyes and ignored him. Tom nudged him
for more information. “In that case maybe we should cut
back on the others and focus on the sugar cookies. Why
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don’t you start at the beginning and explain to me how this
is supposed to work.”
“Okay, I told you how Jeanette is involved in the
campus LGBTA center, right?”
Tom nodded absently, his brain still working out the
logistics of translating his grandmother’s recipes into the
quantities Derek required. Before they had left the
apartment, he had scribbled a partial list on some
notepaper, but listening to Derek he needed to change the
amounts. He pulled out his list, fumbled for a pen from the
inner pocket of his wool coat, and looked around for a flat
surface.
“Every year the center has a giant Christmas Cookie
Sale to raise money for their HIV awareness programs. The
response has been so huge they’ve decided to offer a
cookbook featuring the best-selling recipes in time for
holiday gift-giving.”
“And?” Giving up his search for a suitable surface, Tom
circled behind Derek and rested the list on his back.
“Well, I figure your grandmother’s recipe makes us a
shoe-in for the winner’s spot and entry in the cookbook. You
win. The center raises money. Jeanette loves me. Life is
good.”
Tom tried to ignore the frown on Laura’s face at Derek’s
worshipful mention of Jeanette’s name. The love triangle
taking painful shape in front of his eyes was none of his
business. He scribbled some additional supplies onto his list,
stabbing the pen into Derek’s back for emphasis. “And how
does Isaac Peterson connect to all this?”
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“Owh! Watch it,” Derek protested and squirmed away.
“Did I mention he was Jeanette’s cousin?”
Tom tried not to think about how his roommate’s
smirking face resembled nothing more in this moment than
the infamous cartoon villain from Whoville. The green,
pointed knit cap he wore didn’t help. “No way.”
“Oh yes, way.” The smirk grew even wider. It was a good
thing Tom couldn’t see Derek’s ears, he was afraid they were
beginning to curl as well. “And did I mention when I told
Jeanette I had a talented biochemistry major slash cookie-
making fiend of a roommate with the last name of Molina,
she mentioned this to her cousin? Who just might have
remembered you, and asked her so many questions she
ended up asking me who you were. Oh, and, he also works
at the center.”
Despite crumpling the list, Tom’s hands couldn’t help
their instinctive beckoning motion for more information.
“As a matter of fact, he just happens to be the one
spearheading the cookie sale and recipe book idea.” Derek
yawned in obvious, dramatic indifference. “So, all you have
to do Skippy, is make the best damn cookies around, and he
won’t be able to refuse you anything.”
“That’s it?” Tom stared at Derek in disappointed
disbelief. On one hand he was thrilled to learn Isaac
Peterson remembered him. And asked about him. On the
other—“That’s your grand idea guaranteed to get me private
tutoring with the man who was the best organic chemistry
TA ever? This is why I’ve given up one of my last study
weekends before the test?”
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“Don’t forget the possibility of young love springing forth
the more time you guys spend together,” Derek smugly
added.
“I’m an idiot.” Tom stopped in his tracks and dropped
his head on the handle of the cart, forgetting he never wiped
that part down and bumping his glasses against his nose.
“Why do I ever let myself listen to you?”
“Oh ye of little faith. I’m putting you on the path to
success. All you have to do is take advantage. Seize the guy,
and all that crap.”
Tom grunted as a playful Derek slapped him in the
middle of his back. His chest hit the side of the acrylic
handle, and Tom rubbed at the spot he knew was going to
bruise by tomorrow. There was no plan, merely an utter and
absolute waste of his time. This probably wasn’t even the
same Isaac Peterson he had mooned over for years.
Ignoring Tom’s abject misery, Derek grabbed Laura by
the arm and pulled her forward. “Come on, man. We’ve got
cookies to make.”
T
HE
large, industrial kitchen was deserted when they
entered. The sound of the swinging doors echoing in the
quiet, at least until Derek flipped on the overhead lighting
and, with a loud whoop, set his armload of grocery bags on
the middle preparation island.
“Check this place out.” He opened the bottom cupboards
and whistled. “Better get your apron on, Tommy, ’cause we
are ready to bake.”
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“I’m glad you’re enthused.” Tom followed, his booted feet
dragging with tired frustration. Sunday’s were library days
for him and the change in his routine made him irritable. He
had managed to fit some reading in yesterday after their
deep arctic expedition to the grocery store, but not as much
as he wanted. Later Derek had pushed for Tom to join him
and his friends out at the bar, and only Tom’s threat not to
bake on demand had convinced Derek to leave him alone
with his books. “I should be studying.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Derek patted him on the back as he
walked by and held open one side of the dual doors for Laura
and her load of supplies. “I’ve listened to this song and dance
before. Just remember how absolutely boring life would be
without me.”
Tom pushed past him and grabbed the bags from Laura.
“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” He set the
plastic sacks down on the counter and looked around.
Despite his frustration at letting himself be roped into
another one of Derek’s wild schemes, Tom’s excitement rose
at the opportunity and space to spread out instead of having
to make do in their tiny apartment kitchen. “This place is
amazing.” He pushed his glasses a little higher up on his
face and opened one of the stainless doors along one wall to
peer inside. “There’s what, four ovens?”
“Better than trying to bake all these cookies in our
apartment, right? The electric bill alone would make my dad
pass out.” Derek pushed himself up onto the counter beside
the bags and swung his legs. “This used to be a restaurant.
When the business went belly-up the owner donated the
property to the school for the write-off, which in turn gave it
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to the LGBTA center. There’s been some remodeling, adding
the offices and the clinic space, but they kept the kitchen.”
“How did you talk them into letting us use it?” Tom
pushed Derek’s leg aside and began emptying the grocery
bags, nodding his thanks to Laura when she came over to
help. “You do realize how long this is going to take, don’t
you?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve already lined up extra labor.” Derek
held up his hands in a gesture meant to soothe any
suspicions, but years of experience made Tom wary. “I might
have mentioned we’d help out during the actual cookie sale
they are holding this week in exchange for the use of the
kitchen, though.”
“What?” Tom dropped a sack of flour onto the counter,
and coughed at the rising cloud. “How much of my limited
time have you given away?”
“It’ll do you some good.” Derek waved his hand again,
and Tom longed to chop the irritating appendage off. He
could, there was a professional set of cleavers in the wooden
block next to the sink, and he knew just where to make a
clean cut. “Not only should something like this be right up
your alley, I mean, hello, you are studying biochemistry, but
you’re a nice, single gay guy. When’s the last time you went
out and mingled with other nice, single gay guys?”
Tom snorted. “What, this is you hooking me up?”
“You need to get out more. Spend time with your
brethren. Rub elbows with the masses, and, I don’t know,
get laid.”
“Trust me, rubbing anything with the masses is the last
thing I want to do,” Tom said with a snort. “A few semesters
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of microbiology, and you, too, would have second thoughts
on rolling around in human effluvia.”
“Exactly what I mean. Who even knows a word like
that?”
“It’s a perfectly good word,” Tom retorted, trying to
ignore the obnoxious noise Derek’s heels made knocking
against the cabinets. Laura had taken off her jacket, and he
nodded his head at the selection of large bowls she held up
for his approval and stripped off his own long coat and scarf.
Before Derek could respond, the doors to the kitchen swung
open announcing new arrivals.
“Hey, glad you guys made it.” Derek jumped off the
table, and Tom watched, amazed as he rushed over to the
group. At least until Derek called out to the tall, brown-
haired girl talking to someone out in the hall. “Jeanette,
sweetie, you came.” Derek reached out and took hold of her
hands, pulling her into the kitchen and away from whoever
distracted her.
“You promised to come up with the bulk of the cookies
we need for our holiday sale, how could I refuse to help out?”
The two of them smiled at each other while the others
removed their layers of winter gear, and Tom noticed Laura
tense up beside him at Jeanette’s response. He nervously
pushed his glasses up once again and walked forward with
his hand out in an attempt to gloss over the sudden and
awkward silence. “Hi, I’m Tom. I guess I’ll be your baker this
afternoon.”
“Tom Molina, right?” Jeanette gave him a quick once-
over, and Tom took a step back from her serious gaze. “I’ve
heard a lot about you.”
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“Really?” Tom glanced at Derek who just shrugged and
made a no-not-from-me face. “All good, I hope.”
“It all depends on if hearing how the navy Henley you
wore every week brought out the color of your eyes is
considered good. Frankly, I got a little tired of it.”
“Excuse me?” Derek appeared as confused as Tom, but
Jeanette just smiled serenely at them both and took off her
jacket. Effectively ending their conversation by tossing the
heavy down to Derek to hang up.
The rest of the introductions went quick. Jeanette had
brought along her roommate Megan, Megan’s boyfriend Jim,
and another volunteer from the center, Ty. They all claimed
no expertise in anything other than cookie-eating, but Tom
assured everyone today would be a team effort. Figuring the
sooner this was over with, the faster he could get back to
what was really important, Tom split them into groups of
two, staged around the open counters. Once sure hands
were washed and the basics of each recipe understood, they
got to work.
His choice of bar cookies as an easy fill for the quantity
Derek needed, proved to be a wise one. Megan and her
boyfriend settled on the seven-layer pecan-coconut-bar
recipe. Derek sidled up next to Jeanette, and they chose the
peanut butter bars, leaving an obviously disappointed Laura
with Ty and the caramel-oatmeal bars. Tom was pleased the
spacious kitchen didn’t disappoint, and there was more than
enough equipment to go around.
It didn’t take long for the group to relax and have fun.
Derek started singing Christmas carols and despite his
making up most of the words everyone joined in. Tom mixed
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up two batches of his grandmother’s sugar cookie recipe and
rolled the shaped logs in sheets of waxed paper before
placing them on a shelf in the refrigerator.
“Anyone have any questions?” he asked as he walked
around to check their status.
“No problemo.” Derek, of course couldn’t resist sticking
his fingers into the bowl Jeanette stirred much to Tom’s
disgust.
“We’re going to sell these to people. Germs, Derek.
Germs.” Tom made sure his friend re-washed his hands
before he stopped by Ty and Laura.
“How are you guys doing?”
“This is a pretty easy recipe,” Ty commented. “But my
batter seems to have gotten a little stiff. Any chance you
could put that experience of yours to good use and help me
out?”
Tom felt better using Laura as free labor when she
giggled at Ty’s over-the-top attitude. At least she appeared to
be enjoying herself, even without Derek’s attention, and he
was flattered at Ty’s obvious flirting. Ty was certainly
attractive, all knowing eyes and an engaging smile. But Tom
couldn’t find it within himself to respond, and he moved the
subject back onto the group.
“So I know why I got roped into Derek’s mad plans, how
about the rest of you? Don’t you have anything better to do
on your Sunday?”
“I’m just showing up for the free rubbers,” Ty said, and
he winked at Tom.
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“You know those are available all the time,” Jeanette
said, frowning.
Tom couldn’t resist winking back at Ty and continued
the joke. “When they offer you that big selection of flavored
latex just remember, mint and chocolate are the best for oral
sex. Stay away from the banana and bubblegum, and
whenever possible choose tropical fruit over strawberry and
kiwi.”
Hoots and hollers came from all sides of the kitchen,
and Derek put his arm around Tom’s shoulders with obvious
pride. “Heed the voice of experience my friends.”
“Get off me.” Tom pushed Derek away.
“This is a prime example why we need to have these
fundraisers. We offer a range of services to the community,
and all anyone ever remembers are the free condoms.”
Jeanette had stopped stirring, her voice earnest as the joking
hit an obvious sore spot.
Megan shrugged and held her baking pan steady while
Jim poured in the batter. “We’re all for helping out a good
cause, but it’s not like I’m going to spend a lot of time here. I
mean, it is after all, the LGBTA center. What would Jim or I
get out of it?”
Tom wanted to laugh as Derek and Jeanette both
groaned, but for different reasons. Derek’s became apparent
as he waved his arms in front of Megan. “No, no, don’t get
her started.”
“Idiot.” Jeanette elbowed Derek and continued. “The A
in the name stands for Ally, and that’s one of the themes
we’re working to get across. The center is for the entire
community’s use. We hope to offer education and
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opportunities for all of us to examine our views and feelings
toward human sexuality.”
Derek slid one arm around Jeanette’s shoulders and
grinned. “She sounds just like the brochure, doesn’t she?”
Tom had to move fast to keep Jeanette from dumping
her bowl of batter onto Derek’s head.
III
I
T DIDN
’
T
take long for the first several rounds of cookies to
bake and fill the kitchen with their irresistible aroma. Tom
had everyone mixing up additional bowls before they cooled
and offered even greater temptation to the hungry group. He
was having fun. He wouldn’t say Derek was right, and he
needed the break, but he hadn’t been this relaxed since the
semester started. Jeanette and her friend were easygoing,
and as long as Laura managed to insert herself between
Derek and Jeanette, she appeared happy.
The hardest part of the day so far entailed making sure
wandering fingers left the finished product alone. Deciding to
give up the battle in favor of winning the war, Tom fended
them off with a plate of warm-from-the-oven samples, and
suggested the group take a break to enjoy while he mixed up
yet another batch of sugar cookies. In Tom’s view, there
couldn’t be enough of his favorite soft cookie. Once topped
with cream cheese frosting and sprinkles nothing equaled
the taste.
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“Do my ideas rock, or do they rock?” Derek mumbled as
he surveyed the neat rows on the cooling racks with blatant,
lustful intent.
“Back away from the cookies, Derek,” Tom said sharply.
“You’ve already had your share.”
“But they’re so pretty,” Derek wheedled. “Just one, I
promise. Pretty please with naked Isaac Peterson’s on top?”
“Something sure smells delicious. I followed the aroma
from the parking lot.” A new voice spoke up behind Tom, and
he whirled around, choking as he recognized the man in
front of him. Oh my God, does he look good, was Tom’s first
thought as he wheezed, his chest and throat constricting as
he attempted to breathe. Oh my God, did Isaac hear Derek,
was his second.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Tom’s college crush
smiled at him, and Tom choked up even more. Isaac
Peterson: just as amazing as he remembered—all blond,
wavy hair and blue eyes, smiling, at him. Tom had dreamed
about this moment. Often. But usually alone, naked, and
slippery with lube.
Isaac Peterson. Naked. Lube. Tom had trouble seeing
past the flashing spots of light in his mind’s eye.
“I’m glad you guys didn’t have any difficulty getting in.”
Ignoring Tom’s dilemma, Derek reached out to shake
hands. “Nope, no problems at all. Thanks again for letting us
use the kitchen.”
“You’re welcome, and trust me, you’ll pay during the
actual sale.”
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Tom bit his tongue when Isaac’s polite smile turned sly
and just a little bit wicked, and he immediately saved the
mental image to his fantasy-Isaac collection for later use.
Right about the time Tom realized he wasn’t able to start
breathing on his own, Laura walked up beside him and hit
him sharply on the back. Tom coughed in response, sucking
air into his starved lungs and watching in horror as an eager
Isaac Peterson turned toward him.
“Hi, Tom, remember me?” he questioned. “You were my
favorite student when I was a TA. I really had to work to stay
ahead of you. How have you been?”
Tom shook hands in a daze. Isaac had a strong grip, his
hand large and dry against Tom’s sweaty palm. Way to make
an impression. He nodded, certain his face was a brilliant
shade of red, and ducked away from Isaac’s intense gaze,
watching Derek try and wind his octopus arms around
Jeanette as she came up to greet her cousin.
“Yeah, good, thanks.” Tom coughed again when he
answered Isaac’s question in a mumbled rush, and Laura
patted him on the arm. She stared in the same direction as
Tom, and if looks could kill someone would certainly be laid
out on the floor as apparently Ty’s mellowing influence only
extended so far. Tom remembered he still held Isaac’s hand
and quickly let go. “Oh, sorry. Laura, this is Isaac Peterson.
Isaac, this is Laura….” Tom hesitated as he realized he didn’t
know Laura’s last name.
“We already know each other,” Isaac said as he greeted
Laura with a hug. “How’s things going?” Thankfully, Isaac
didn’t appear to notice Tom’s sudden brain freeze and turned
his attention to the vast display of cookies set out to cool. “If
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those taste as good as they look, it’ll be one heck of a
fundraiser this year.”
“That’s my Tommy.” Derek let Jeanette push him away
long enough to come up and embarrass Tom with the hated
nickname. “He’s not even made the good stuff yet.”
Megan, Jim, and Ty walked up, empty plate in hand,
and they joined Isaac while he admired the impressive
selection of baked goods. Row after delicious row stared
back, the dark surfaces of the peanut butter, chocolate bars
shining with a matte finish as the top layers began to cool.
“No,” Tom said firmly before anyone could ask the
obvious question. He ignored the sudden outbreak of frowns.
“Absolutely not.”
“He’s right,” Laura piped up. “If we eat anymore, we’ll
have to bake more.”
“So,” Derek said. “Just look at them. They’re calling to
us.”
“We should start wrapping these up for the sale and let
the others cool,” Megan said, adding her two cents while her
boyfriend nodded. It was obvious to Tom who wore the pants
in their relationship when Jim backed away from the treats
with only a sad glance.
“Why don’t you guys start?” Jeanette agreed. “I’ll mix up
another batch of peanut butter bars.”
“And I need to get busy rolling the sugar cookies,” Tom
said. The truth was he needed to do something other than
stand and stare at Isaac as he helped Megan, Jim, and Ty
find the decorated wrappings. Tom couldn’t help himself; the
dark olive pants Isaac wore fit his slim hips like a glove.
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It took Derek and Laura both to pull Tom away from his
panoramic view of Isaac as he rummaged through the
kitchen storage areas. They pushed him back toward the
counter where he had everything ready for the icing. With a
little coaxing Tom showed Laura how he mixed the cream
cheese and butter in a separate bowl, and creamed them
together before adding the dry ingredients while Derek pulled
the now-chilled logs of dough from the fridge.
“Are you going to help me cut out the sugar cookies,
Derek?” Laura asked.
“I guess.” Derek looked at Jeanette busy feeding
spoonfuls of batter to Ty. He stuck his fingers into Tom’s
icing mixture, his face sullen.
“Watch it,” Tom snapped, whapping Derek’s knuckles
sharply with his spoon. “Nobody wants your germs.”
“Ouch. They don’t want my blood either.” Derek held the
abused hand to his chest while Laura dropped her knife and
examined the damage. “What about Jeanette and Ty?”
“She used a different spoon, idiot,” Tom said.
“Let’s clean you off,” Laura said. Tom shook his head as
Laura steered Derek toward the sink and ran cold water over
his hand. What a baby.
“Lost your helpers?”
Tom jumped at Isaac’s deep voice. “Uh, looks like.” Tom
scrambled for something to say, anything that would sound
interesting and exciting, but when his mind remained blank,
he just kept stirring the mixture in the bowl in front of him
and tried not to stare at Isaac’s chest. He looked even better
than he had during Tom’s last class with him: blond,
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surprisingly tan for December, and sturdy in a dependable
looking way that Tom longed to enjoy.
“Do you like to bake?” Isaac shifted his feet, his hips
moving to one side as he settled his weight. “I always
wondered what you enjoyed outside of class.”
“Yeah, I do.” Tom sprinkled a little more powdered sugar
into his mix and pushed his glasses up his nose with his
elbow, an internal zing at the confirmation Isaac had
thought about him. “This is my grandmother’s recipe,
actually. She used to let me help her when I was little. She
always swore baking was a metaphor for real life.”
“Do I smell walnuts?” Isaac moved closer, looking at the
logs of chilled dough, and Tom inhaled the soft scent of his
cologne.
“Sure do. I made a batch with lemon flavor, regular, and
this one with walnut.” Tom glanced up, catching Isaac’s blue
eyes focused on his hands. “But I use the same cream
cheese icing for all of them.”
“Smells good.” Isaac’s gaze moved up to meet his.
“They’ll taste even better,” Tom half-whispered as he
concentrated on the bowl in front of him. He hadn’t been this
close to Isaac since that day in class he had helped Isaac
diagram the enzyme nitric oxide synthase and its
involvement in Alzheimer’s disease.
The two of them stood next to each other, and Tom
broke out in a nervous sweat, the flush rising up the back of
his neck. He struggled for something to say when his glasses
started their inexorable slide downward once again. Smooth,
he groaned to himself. Real smooth.
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“So, what are you—?”
“Did you always—?”
They stopped at the same time, and Tom felt a different
flush, warm and tingling, sliding up his spine as Isaac
reached out and carefully pushed his glasses up for him.
Tom’s nerves vanished with the gentle gesture, and he was
able to share a more natural smile when Isaac spoke again.
“This reminds me of working in the chem lab at school.”
“Yeah, my kitchen safety rules are almost as strict as
yours were,” Tom joked. “Remember the sign Professor
McCafferty always put up at the start of the year?”
“The one your junior class massacred with all the
graffiti?” Isaac laughed. “I sure do, I had to redo it every
couple of weeks.”
“I made a similar rule list for my grandmother’s
kitchen,” Tom said wistfully. “She enjoyed being all official.”
“It sounds like the two of you are close.”
“We were,” Tom said as he nodded. “She passed away
last year, and I still miss her.”
“I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “I didn’t mean to remind you of
your loss.”
“It’s fine,” Tom said, smiling gently. “Some of my best
memories are over a warm oven. I actually came out to my
grandmother while we were making cookies.”
“How’d she react?”
“Better than my parents.” Tom laughed at the memory.
“She said it was like the flavorings she used. Everyone just
has a different preference.”
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“So you’ve been out for a while?”
Tom grabbed for the roll of plastic wrap and pulled out a
sheet before he placed the film over the bowl of icing. “Years
and years,” he said, folding the ends. “Why?”
“Just curious.” Isaac fiddled with the spoon Tom had set
down. “I never see you at any of the center’s events.”
“That’s because he studies like there’s no tomorrow.”
Derek butted his head between the two of them, and Tom
shuffled back, surprised at how close to each other he and
Isaac had been standing. “Maybe you could do me a favor
and get him to go out more.”
“We do offer a lot of events.” Isaac smiled. “I was happy
when I stopped being a TA, and I had time to enjoy them.”
“What are you doing?” Tom asked, curious once Isaac
brought the subject up. “The last thing I know, you had
finished up your master’s degree and were being headhunted
by PharcomLabs.”
“You heard about that?” Isaac said in obvious surprise
as Tom choked and fumbled for something, anything to
explain how he knew Isaac’s post-academic plans. “It’s
definitely a small world here on campus,” Isaac continued.
Tom appreciated the way Isaac made him sound more
like a colleague and less of a stalker.
“Actually I’m working full-time for the center,” Isaac said
with a shrug. “I spent all those years following this plan I
had on how things should go. I ended up thinking I needed
to expand my horizons and try something a little different.”
“Ha!” Derek exclaimed. “See, I told you.”
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Luckily for Tom, Isaac’s cell phone rang before he asked
Derek for an explanation.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, looking at the display. “I need
to take this.”
Tom nodded as Isaac walked out into the hallway, and
he manfully turned his attention back to his bowl of icing.
“I am so right it’s not even funny.” Of course, it was too
much to hope Derek would be above a little I-told-you-so.
“Not only is that man living proof life is more than the next
advancement in medical research, but he’s interested in you
with a capital I.”
“Enough,” Tom said.
“Nope, not until you say I’m right.” Derek grabbed Tom
by the waist and tried to jump up and put him in a
headlock.
“Will you behave?” Tom demanded as he spun Derek
around and pinned his arm behind his back with the ease of
long practice.
“Hey, Tom.” Megan ignored their roughhousing and
hesitated beside them. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Tom nodded, releasing Derek.
Megan looked over at her boyfriend and took a deep
breath, her cheeks a brilliant red. “So, Jim and I have been
together awhile, and we thought we’d see about getting
tested, you know? Can you tell us what the center might
offer?”
Tom froze and instinctively glanced over at Ty and
Jeanette, unsure why Megan was asking him. At least the
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other two were center volunteers. “Uh, sorry, but I wouldn’t
know.”
“Oh.” Megan looked embarrassed. “I just thought, seeing
you with Isaac—I’m so sorry.”
“You’re kidding me,” Derek snorted. “Isn’t regular
testing as necessary to a gay guy as manscaping?”
Tom groaned, happy Isaac had stepped away for his
call. “Where would I have gotten tested? Dr. Yee’s office?”
Derek started to laugh at the mention of their childhood
pediatrician. “You know his nurse is like 103 years old and
the biggest gossip ever.”
“Remember when Mr. Reilly got his scrip for Viagra?”
Derek put his hand on Megan’s shoulder and kept laughing.
“By the time the Sunday services were over the whole town
knew about it. His wife was furious and so was his
girlfriend.”
“Can you imagine my parents if they had found out I
was getting tested for HIV?” Tom shuddered at the thought.
“How about happy their gay son was being smart and
careful?” Jeanette had joined in the conversation, her hands
on her hips and her eyes full of dedication to the cause.
Tom crossed his arms across his chest and felt cornered
when the rest of the group walked up to see what was
happening. He wanted to like Jeanette for Derek’s sake, but
he was familiar with that tone, and it irritated him each time
some well-meaning individual directed it toward him. “I
appreciate your work at the center. I do. But before you get
on a roll, answer me this. With heart disease being the major
cause of death for women, when was your last blood
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pressure or cholesterol check?” He looked pointedly at both
Megan and Jeanette. “How about a breast self-exam?”
“Crap,” Megan said when Jim nudged her questioningly.
“He’s right.”
“Yeah, but they aren’t at risk like you are for certain
things,” Derek spoke up in Jeanette’s defense. “I worry about
you. Sure, you’re a smart guy. Hell, you even wash your new
shirts before you wear them, but you can’t be too careful
when it comes to this.”
“Why, because I’m gay?” Tom shook his head. “You do
realize it’s sexual behavior that puts a person at risk, not
orientation, right? All joking aside, how many times have any
of you given or received unprotected oral sex? I can honestly
say I’ve used protection every single time. And I’m sorry if
this embarrasses the ladies, but do any of you use dental
dams? Do you even know what they look like or where to get
one? While the risks of transmission are lower with oral, HIV
isn’t the only nasty thing out there to catch.”
Tom felt odd speaking so openly to people he didn’t even
really know, but he doggedly kept going, determined to make
his point. “You tell me the last time you were tested, and I’ll
tell you.”
“Promise me I’ll be able to get you to come in and speak
to our groups.” Tom looked up, surprised to see Isaac had
walked back into the kitchen and caught his last few
comments. “That was one of the best explanations of how
this center can help everyone in the community I’ve heard.”
The group stayed silent, and Tom felt even more
awkward. He hadn’t meant to get on any soapbox, but he
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was so tired of people acting like HIV and STDs were
something that couldn’t happen to them.
“Oh my gosh,” Megan said, grabbing a potholder. “Do
you smell that? The cookies are burning.”
IV
R
ESCUE
complete, the mood lightened as the group drifted
back to the packing of the items already cooled. Much to Ty’s
amusement, Laura found some spools of red and green
ribbon and showed Jeanette how to curl the strands using
scissors and a pencil.
Tom pulled the remaining chilled logs of sugar cookie
dough out of the fridge, and tried to ignore the sudden
tightness between his shoulder blades. He was just
supposed to help Derek in his stupid plan to impress some
girl. His out-of-character outburst had embarrassed him,
and he regretted agreeing to Derek’s idea all over again.
“Are you okay?” Isaac asked, and Tom nodded, his
hands stilling their work. “I mean it, I’d like you to come and
talk to a few of our community groups. You were right to the
point and people respond to that.”
Tom snorted.
“I’m serious,” Isaac said. “But I am surprised. You’re a
biochemistry major, and you’ve never been curious enough
to get tested?”
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“Years ago, I went to our county health department,”
Tom admitted. “Part of the reason I’m cautious is I don’t ever
want to repeat the experience.”
“That bad?”
Tom reached for the bag of flour and sprinkled some out
onto the pastry board. “The whole draw was the procedure
claimed to be confidential. You know, you get a number so it
stays anonymous? Well, they did everything possible to get
my personal information short of refusing to run the test.”
Tom drew his fingers lightly through the flour; he still
remembered how scared he had been all those years ago,
sitting by himself in the crowded waiting room and wanting
to run away and forget the whole thing. Despite being
positive everyone was watching, he had dug in his heels and
refused to give his name to the receptionist or fill it out on
the paperwork no matter how much she pressured him. His
feelings weren’t helped by the indignity of the clinic’s sign-in
procedures or their insistence on arguing with him and
requesting he recite his sexual history in front of a room full
of strangers.
Seeing nothing but interest and concern on Isaac’s face,
Tom continued. “They wouldn’t give the information over the
phone when I called. Instead I had to go in and sit through
some half-assed abstinence counseling before I received the
results of my blood test. I felt like a criminal, and I was just
a kid trying to do the right thing.”
“Now I really want you to get involved.” Isaac smiled and
squeezed his shoulder. “You’re the perfect person to share
your experiences and how things have changed.”
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Tom hesitated; he could still sense Isaac’s hand on him,
warm and comforting. “It sounds interesting, but I’m so
behind. I shouldn’t even be here right now.”
“How about a deal?” Isaac proposed. “I’ll help you out
class-wise if you’ll lend me a hand at the center.”
Tom wanted to pinch himself. Spend more time with
Isaac Peterson? “You sure?”
“I’d enjoy a chance to get to know you outside the
classroom.” Isaac rested his hand lightly on Tom’s. “I was
excited when Jeanette told me I might see you here today.
What do you say?”
“Tutoring from Isaac the Terrible?” Tom turned his palm
over and daringly let his fingers curl around Isaac’s. “How
can I refuse?”
“You’re can’t.” Isaac tightened his grip and laughed. His
blue eyes beamed, and Tom wanted to dance at being the
cause. “I’ll never live down that nickname, will I? So, tell me,
why biochemistry, and what’s your focus?”
“Well, I can’t think of another field with as much impact
on how medicine is practiced today. Without research into
how complex chemical reactions on the smallest cellular
level in the human body impact—”
“Hey guys, we’re ready for the sugar cookies.” Derek
popped back up between the two of them, and Tom wanted
to hit him over the head. He had a chance to talk to someone
who not only seemed to find him interesting, but who also
understood how involving he found his field, and Derek had
to interrupt. Tom frowned at Derek when he refused to back
away. Those cleavers were still within reach. “You don’t have
them ready?”
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“Sorry,” Isaac apologized, letting his hand slip from
Tom’s. “I didn’t mean to keep you.”
“Why don’t you stay and help him?” Derek reached out
to the dough only to stop when Tom raised his eyebrow.
“We’ll go faster if you guys cut them out and Laura and I
bake.”
“Sounds good.” Isaac agreed.
“You don’t mind?” Tom asked, mentally deciding to
forgive Derek for his last couple of trespasses. “I thought you
came in to work?”
“Business will wait. Cookies, on the other hand, how
can I refuse?” Isaac bumped Tom with his shoulder and the
touch tingled throughout Tom’s body. “As least, as long as I
get to sample the finished product?”
Tom wondered how dopey the grin on his face looked as
he brought out the cookie cutters—standard holiday-themed
fare: candy canes, reindeers, trees, bells, and stars made of
light metal and easy to push through the dough, but special
to him because they had been his grandmother’s. Settling
into a rhythm, Tom worked sections of chilled mix out onto
the floured board. Isaac transferred the cut shapes onto the
waxed cookie sheets and handed the pans off to Derek and
Laura.
“Remember, the recipe says nine minutes, but I only
cook them for six,” Tom warned before allowing Isaac to
capture his attention once again. Tom couldn’t believe the
man chasing after him with a doughy reindeer was the same
serious individual who had terrorized Tom and his fellow
first-year chemistry students.
“You keep looking at me,” Isaac said. “Can I ask why?”
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“Sorry,” Tom muttered. “You’re so different than you
were in class.”
“I’ve changed a lot, stopped putting so much pressure
on myself,” Isaac said as he arranged the next row of candy
canes neatly on the cooking sheet. “Or at least, the stress is
different.”
“Do you miss it at all?” Tom wondered if he could give
up the sharp thrill his scientific studies gave him as easily as
Isaac seemed to. He rolled out the last of the chilled dough,
patting his hand down on the floured board.
“Pure research?” Isaac asked. “Sometimes. But for right
now I’m enjoying a more humanistic approach to my science
and while the choice may not appeal to everyone, it’s working
for me.”
“That’s good,” Tom said. He meant to sound agreeable
with Isaac’s view, but his doubts must have shown through
when Isaac started laughing at him.
“Think of your grandmother’s cookie recipe. Not
everyone prefers the same flavor. If it helps, both Professor
McCafferty and I agree your true calling is in research.” Isaac
nudged Tom’s hip with his elbow. “He has plans for you, you
know.”
“Really?”
Isaac nodded. “And you never know, so might I.”
A
LL
too soon the bars had been wrapped and labeled for
individual sale, and the just-baked sugar cookies cooled
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enough to be frosted. Derek took charge, lining everyone up
in an assembly line with Tom, Isaac, Jeanette, and Megan
doing the frosting while Laura, Ty, Jim, and Derek were
responsible for adding the sprinkles and other colored
decorations.
“Oh my God,” Jim mumbled as he shoved a red and
white sugar-striped candy cane into his mouth and moaned
around the crumbs. It was one of the few times Tom had
heard him speak up the entire day. “These are amazing.
Promise me you’ll give Megan this recipe.”
“You’re supposed to be decorating, not eating them,”
Megan said indignantly. “Maybe we should make sure you
end up with the directions, not me.”
“If Jim gets to eat a cookie, I get to eat a cookie.”
“Me too.”
“That’s not fair!”
To Tom’s surprise Jeanette and Laura grabbed the
reindeers they had just frosted and ran out the door,
squealing when the guys gave chase. Jim and Megan quickly
followed their example leaving Tom and Isaac by themselves.
“I think we’re on our own.”
“In that case,” Tom said, holding up a star he had
frosted and looking hopefully at Isaac. “Give me your
opinion.”
Isaac leaned forward and took a small bite. Tom
watched as Isaac’s eyes closed, and he hummed with
pleasure. And yes, Virginia, that was really, really hot.
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“Oh my God, Jim was right.” Isaac blinked and reached
out to take the rest of the treat from Tom’s fingers. “Marry
me,” he demanded, as he devoured the cookie.
“What?” Tom said, shocked.
“You’re everything I want in a man.” Isaac picked up a
yellow frosted bell-shaped cookie and dangled it in front of
Tom. “Smart, good-looking, able to understand the rigorous
demands of the scientific lifestyle, and you bake a mean-ass
cookie.”
“I… I….” Tom didn’t know what to think or say. Was he
dreaming? Maybe he was still in the apartment, and his
brain really had exploded. Only, instead of dying he was
lying comatose, living inside his head and letting all of his
fantasies come true while outwardly becoming a wizened
vegetable. For a brief moment Tom mourned the loss of his
plans before deciding life with Isaac, even in a coma, was a
win all the way around.
“I’ve eaten so many cookies, I’m going to be sick.” A
groaning Derek stumbled up beside them, interrupting Tom’s
coma fantasy. Which, when Tom put it into words like that,
was disturbing in and of itself.
“Uh huh,” Tom muttered, still staring at the blatantly
symbolic bell Isaac offered in temptation.
“You all right, Tom?” Derek asked. “What’s going on?”
“Isaac asked me to marry him,” Tom said dazedly.
“And you doubted me,” Derek crowed his triumph. “I
figured you’d be lucky to get a little study time out of the
guy, but a marriage proposal? I’m impressed.”
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“Never underestimate the power of Granny Molina’s
sugar cookie recipe,” Tom murmured, still staring into
Isaac’s hopeful eyes.
Jeanette and Laura came running up, hands clasped,
flushed and sweaty from their evasion efforts. “We need more
cookies,” Jeanette demanded before she examined Tom and
Isaac, both frozen in place. “What’s with these two?”
“Isaac asked Tom to marry him,” Derek obediently
reported, staring in surprise at the two women and their
entwined fingers.
“No, no, Isaac.” Jeanette slapped her cousin on the back
of his head and took his cookie. “The plan was you date him
first, ask him to move in with you, and then marry him. You
can’t propose until you’ve dated at least a month. Remember
the diagram on the whiteboard?” She leaned over to Laura
and gave her a quick kiss, handing her the stolen bell.
“Didn’t I tell you he would mess up?”
Laura nodded her agreement. “Does this mean we can
stop pretending to like Derek? If he puts his hands on you
again, I might have to break them.”
“Hey—” Derek protested.
“Depends.” Jeanette put her arm around Laura’s waist
and rested her head on Laura’s shoulder. “Tom, will you
have dinner with Isaac tonight?”
“Absolutely.” Tom watched while the smile on Isaac’s
face widened.
“Isaac, will you take Tom out to dinner tonight and save
the marriage proposal for next month?”
“Absolutely,” Isaac replied.
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“Our work here is done.” Jeanette and Laura shared a
tree-shaped cookie between them. “The things we do for
family.”
E
PILOGUE
“I
T
’
S
not fair.”
Tom ignored Derek’s sulking and smiled cheerfully as he
gave the student in front of him her change. “Thank you for
supporting the campus LGBTA center, and enjoy your
cookies.”
The two of them sat at a small, decorated table in the
crowded hallway outside the science library, butts numb
from the hard plastic of their borrowed chairs. The LGBTA
Center’s Christmas Cookie Sale was in full swing, and true
to Derek’s promise they had been manning the sale for most
of the morning. Food and drink were not allowed inside the
library proper, but desperate students had ways of getting
around the rule and finding money to burn when sugar was
involved.
“I was the one that was supposed to score,” Derek
mumbled despondently, slumping farther down his chair
while he picked at the closest piece of garland. “You were a
means to an end. I didn’t even think you’d see Isaac
Peterson.”
“So, you admit to lying and manipulating me for your
own selfish gain?” Tom asked as he rearranged the
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assortment of baked goods on the table in front of them. The
bar cookies were steady sellers, the decorative red and green
wrapping enticing those hurrying by to stop in their tracks
and indulge. But sales of the frosted sugar cookies with
colorful sprinkles and curly ribbon-tied plastic bags were
catching up as students tried them and then came back for
more.
“But there was no gain,” Derek protested. “I was played.
My deepest emotions turned against me in a cruel and
twisted plot.”
“Welcome to the club.” Tom playfully poked Derek in the
side. “Come on, cheer up. What happened to having fun,
helping others out, enjoying life?”
“Those only apply when I’m manipulating you.” Derek
pulled a green frosted tree out of the box he had stashed
under the table and chewed solemnly. “They weren’t ever
supposed to apply in my case.”
“Thanks, I think.” Tom smiled at the student in front of
him, and helped her rearrange her load of books so her
purchases wouldn’t tumble off the top of the stack. He
nudged Derek and frowned until Derek spoke up.
“Thank you for supporting the campus LGBTA center,
and enjoy your cookies,” Derek recited.
“Can you at least try to sound enthusiastic?” Tom
asked.
“You don’t understand. I really thought she liked me.”
Derek finished his cookie and folded his arms on the table
before dropping his head.
Chrissy Munder
Better With Sprinkles [42]
“Which one?” Tom couldn’t help the cackle that escaped
him. But, who could blame him for a small measure of
gloating?
“Cold, Molina,” Derek’s plaintive voice responded. “Very
cold.”
“Yeah, well. I live with you, don’t I? I’m just sharing the
love.”
“Not for much longer.” Derek’s blond curls bounced as
he sat up and startled the two young men reaching across
the table toward the peanut butter bars. “I’m going to have to
find a new roommate. What do I tell my dad?”
Tom played with the catch on the cash box. “Well, first
of all, Isaac and I haven’t been dating that long. No one’s
moving anywhere.”
“But you will.” Derek looked mournful. “You guys have
thought about each other for years. He arranged to meet you
again despite the deep, personal pain it caused me, and he’s
already asked you to marry him. It’s only a matter of time
before you two ride off into some sunset together, arguing
over the chemical properties the entire way.”
Tom allowed himself a brief, enjoyable moment to
consider his new and improved hopes for the future:
standing proudly beside Isaac as Isaac accepted a
humanitarian award, their comfortable condominium close
to campus, a dog or two to walk together in the evening.
Isaac made everything, including Tom’s plans better. “Just
like sprinkles,” he murmured dreamily.
“Stop.” Derek held up his hand. “You’re having some
kind of strange, Isaac Peterson fantasy. I can tell by the look
on your face.”
Chrissy Munder
Better With Sprinkles [43]
Tom leaned over and wrapped his arms around Derek.
“Thank you,” he said, patting Derek on the back. “None of
this would have ever been possible without you and your
special brand of crazy.”
Derek snuffled against Tom’s neck. “You mean that?”
“I do.” Tom nodded. “I’m sorry Jeanette already had a
girlfriend and toyed with your emotions. Horribly amused,
but still sorry. Would it make the situation any better if you
told yourself you did this all for me?”
“Maybe.” Derek leaned back and grabbed a star-shaped
sugar cookie from the box under the table. “I might get some
play when I tell the story.” His face brightened. “And you
guys would owe me and let me move into your basement.”
“You’re never going to change, are you?” Tom mentally
changed the condo to a townhome and took the cookie from
Derek’s hand. He shoved the entire star into his own mouth
and pretended not to notice when Derek wet his finger and
used it to pick up sprinkles that had fallen to the top of the
table. “Haven’t you had enough of those?”
“Nope.” Derek grinned. “But if you truly want to thank
me, you and Isaac could help solve a problem I’ve run into
with my Communications class.”
“What now?” Tom asked. The cell phone in his pocket
vibrated against his leg, and he knew it was Isaac sending
him another text. Tom smiled, and patted the phone lovingly.
Both he and Isaac had no doubt they would have connected
again, but Derek had certainly made things easier for them.
He could help Derek out, just this once.
“Her name is Anita, and let me tell you….”
Better With Sprinkles Sugar Cookies
As handed down by my grandmother.
Actual origin of the recipe is lost to the ages.
1¼
cup white sugar
1 cup butter or butter-flavor shortening
2
eggs
¼ cup butter-light pancake syrup
1 Tbs. vanilla flavoring
3 cups all-purpose flour
¾ tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. baking soda
½ tsp. salt
½ tsp. black walnut or lemon flavoring (as desired)
1. Combine shortening and sugar. Beat with a hand mixer until smooth
and blended.
2. Add vanilla, syrup, and eggs. Beat well. If desired, add the walnut or
lemon flavoring
3. Combine dry ingredients in a separate bowl and stir to mix well.
4. Add dry ingredients gradually to cream mixture, using hand mixer at
low speed.
5. Spoon batter all at once onto wax paper and shape into a rounded log.
Refrigerate and chill at least one hour.
6. Slice off a portion and roll out onto floured board, slightly thicker rather
than thinner, and cut into desired shapes. Place onto a cookie sheet lined
with parchment baking sheets.
7. Bake at 375 degrees for 5-9 minutes only. Do not overcook.
Let cool. Frost generously with your favorite cream cheese frosting.
Prepared brands work just as well as homemade. Divide frosting into
bowls and use food coloring for even more creative festivity. Add
sprinkles, colored sugar, etc. as desired and enjoy.
Note: If you think you’d like to know the calorie count, don’t. We’re
talking cream cheese frosting here—spare yourself the pain.
Have you been Naughty or Nice?
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About the Author
The joke in
C
HRISSY
M
UNDER
’s family is that she was born
with a book in her hand. Even now, you’ll never find her
without a book or seven scattered about. Forced to become a
practicing realist in an effort to combat her tendency to
dream, her many years of travel and a diverse assortment of
careers have taken her across most of the United States and
shown her that there are two things you can never have
enough of: love and laughter.
Visit her web site at http://www.chrissymunder.com/ and
her blog at http://chrissymunder.livejournal.com/. Friend
her
on
at
http://www.facebook.com/
chrissymunder and follow her on Twitter at http://
twitter.com/ChrissyMunder.
Copyright
Better With Sprinkles ©Copyright Chrissy Munder, 2010
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
4760 Preston Road
Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Paul Richmond http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com
Cover Design by Mara McKennen
This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is
illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon
conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No
part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To
request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite
244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
Released in the United States of America
December 2010
eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-748-1
