Read Vincent's Thanksgiving Date for Free Online

hyperventilating while he wondered what that look meant or what to do about it.
    “Hmm.” Cory thought out loud. “Would you rather get a turkey or one of those tofu things?” He asked, then laughed gently when Vincent answered, “Yes!” before he’d fully heard the question.
    But although Cory undoubtedly thought Vincent was one of the most ridiculous men he’d ever met, he stayed next to him as they turned into a new aisle. And after a while, with the list in Vincent’s shaking hands, he took over the duty of pushing the cart.
     
     
     
     
    Vincent wasn’t sure what had happened, in his life, with his day, whatever. He had his arms full of bags of groceries and he was following his handsome neighbor, the object of his frustrated fantasies—Cory, as Vincent now got to call him, back to his apartment.
    Cory managed the key with one hand, kneed the door open, and walked in as if he knew Vincent would follow. Which was probably because Vincent had already done everything Cory had asked of him in the short time they’d been on friendly terms. Later, when he was alone, Vincent was going to be very embarrassed about that, because he was being as obvious as he had at fourteen when the varsity baseball team had walked by. But for now he couldn’t seem to stop himself from setting the heavy bags down on the counter where Cory indicated he should.
    The layout was similar to his place, a small kitchen with a counter that separated it from an equally small living room, and then a short distance away were the doors to the bathroom and two bedrooms, although Vincent only had the one bedroom, and he paid more for an in-unit washer and dryer. He’d learned how awkward sharing laundry time with neighbors could be at his first apartment. Never again.
    There was a tiny, two-person table at the end of the kitchen with a vase full of flowers on it. He guessed Cory always had flowers around. The arrangement was lovely, what looked like chrysanthemums and berry branches, which gave him some ideas about how Cory planned on getting his place, “all Martha Stewart.”
    The doors to the bedrooms were closed, and Vincent wasn’t that creepy that he was going to make up an excuse to peek. He began pulling groceries from the bags while Cory put a few away and arranged others into some kind of order on the countertop. “Some things I am going to prepare or set up tomorrow,” Cory explained when he caught Vincent looking, and then studied the box of tofu turkey with the same disbelief and interest he’d shown in the store. Regular turkeys, at this point, had either been too big or too expensive, so Cory had decided on the flavored tofu and then a small ham in case some of his guests still wanted meat. Most of them would be getting turkey from somewhere else anyway, leftovers from friends or family.
    They’d gotten cans of cranberry sauce too, because according to Cory, Ricky liked the jiggly shape it was in when taken out of the can and had requested it over fresh cranberry sauce. Cory didn’t care either way. What he did care about was the shape of the sweet potatoes, the amount of marshmallows, and having plenty of butter and brown sugar on hand. He’d also grabbed heavy cream, which he quickly popped into the fridge while Vincent was trying not to drool at the thought of that much brown sugar on anything.
    “Now,” Cory announced when the perishables had all been put away, “your stuff. Hurry now.”
    Vincent thought he was being dismissed until Cory slipped out of the kitchen and took hold of Vincent’s shirt to lead him along too. Vincent only had two bags to bring in and didn’t need help, but Cory closed the door behind them and insisted on going to his car with him. “You wouldn’t let me pay for your gas,” he reminded Vincent when Vincent tried to say something, then with quiet authority, directed Vincent to close the trunk.
    Vincent let Cory into his apartment with no small amount of trepidation and then was