Christmas had come and gone. Brandon had not seen Anthony since the day of paint fiasco, and he attempted to throw himself into festivities rather than dwell on the lack of communication. After all, what was their relationship, actually? To Brandon it might be a confusing tangle of friendship, longing, and lust, but it seemed that Anthony viewed things a little more transactionally. By helping Brandon “conquer” his fetish, he got a cameraman, house sitter, and designer out of it. It stung Brandon when he thought about it that way, but perhaps that was just the dose of reality he needed to snap him out of the pattern he had fallen into for the past several weeks.

And so Brandon spiced walnuts, attended work parties, and visited family. He sat down and addressed Christmas cards for the first time in five years, and didn’t lean quite so heavily on the gift cards as stocking stuffers but actually shopped thoughtfully for the individuals on his list. For the most part, it worked. The self-imposed craziness of the holiday season largely filled the void that Anthony had unwittingly carved. But all things lose momentum at some point, and for Brandon the stretch between Christmas and New Year’s felt infinite.

One particular afternoon on which there were no get-togethers to attend and the movies on Netflix were beginning to feel stale, Brandon turned to cleaning his already immaculate loft. He pulled furniture from the walls, took apart light fixtures, and rotated couch cushions. He threw all of the shoes he had pilfered from Anthony in the dumpster. All, that is, except for the Lebrons. Those he decided to hang on to, if just perhaps for a little longer.

Brandon finally turned to his desk, where his laptop sat. He flipped it open, naively telling himself that he would clear his cache and weed out his inbox, but it was only a matter of minutes before YouTube was open and Anthony’s channel was on the screen. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a new video. Yet there one was, posted two days ago, the day after Christmas.

A mixture of emotions struggled for center stage. One was—of course—surprise. Anthony had never posted a video without Brandon since they had met, except for one or two times when their schedules didn’t line up, and even then it was understood that it would happen. Another was…was it hurt? Why had Anthony been so silent, only to then exclude him for seemingly no reason? Brandon had already left Anthony’s the night they had painted convinced that Lydia was wrong, anyway. There was no apparent reason to believe that Anthony shared any of Brandon’s feelings. But had something happened that Brandon had missed to be so suddenly and completely cut off? And so the hurt was replaced by confusion and paranoia.

But it was curiosity that won out in the end. Two things about this video stood out to Brandon—the first was that the thumbnail showed black Dunlop boots. Anthony didn’t own any Dunlops. At least, not that he knew of. They were so…commercial. Anthony’s footwear options were diverse, but usually fairly elegant, crocs excluded. Second, Brandon could tell that the video was not recorded anywhere nearby. This Christmas had been uncharacteristically cold for Pennsylvania—the grass was crunchy with frost, and ice was forming around the edges ponds already. There would be no decent mud that hadn’t crystallized by now, yet the thumbnail clearly showed soft ground and even hints of green vegetation. Brandon had no choice but to click and watch, if for no other reason to answer the questions that had been raised.

Anthony was standing on riverbank somewhere. Since there was no second camera capturing the footage, Anthony had relied on a close selfie stick. Brandon could tell that the boots were stiff and new and had treads much clunkier than those his preferred Anthony’s Hunters. Anthony walked on the border of the river, on a few inches of somewhat unsatisfying muck christening the tops of his feet. It wasn’t until he approached a little inlet of more stagnant water that the video proved to be a worthy addition to his channel.

Brandon watched the screen as Anthony stepped on a small grassy area of seemingly dry ground next to the inlet when it gave way and he was suddenly halfway up the shaft of his boot. Naturally, he brought the other boot in, and started testing the area for more give. After stepping around and widening the depression, he started to pump his legs, slowly sinking his legs alternately further into the ground until he came just shy of the tops of the Dunlops. Brandon adjusted his pants. He didn’t want to be enjoying this. He wanted to be hurt. Or pissed. Or even indifferent. But he couldn’t resist the mud and Anthony’s feet had a crazy hold on him.

By now, Anthony had churned what had been a grassy section of the bank into a soft oozy mire that flowed easily around his legs. He stepped out of the impression on to harder ground, the rich brown mud coating the Dunlops evenly from toe to heel to just below the rim. The next part proved to be Brandon’s favorite, where Anthony paused before the mud pit, toes of his boots out over the edge. It was about ten seconds of nothing, but to Brandon it was possibly the hottest part of the video. It was the part that he knew Anthony was considering if he should step back in. He was deciding if he should walk away and leave well enough alone, or satisfy his viewers and plunge in again knowing that this time he would probably top his boots. Anthony didn’t always give in.

This time he did. Brandon almost felt like he was there, watching the thrilling moment when Anthony stepped into the deep cream again, the momentum of his weight driving the boots far enough into the bottom of the depression that the rims of the boots disappeared, and Anthony’s body seemed to terminate at his knees. He teased Brandon with another series of leg pumps, allowing the mud to claim even more of his legs, the level climbing up his thighs and all the while spilling into the boots and flooding in around his feet.

Brandon didn’t even see how the video ended, having cum too early to see it. It was a few minutes later when he could think clearly again that, running his fingers through his hair and sitting at his desk in sticky pants, he finally thought to click on the video description. “Found a sweet spot along river in South Carolina…” South Carolina? What the fuck was Anthony doing in South Carolina?

Brandon spent the rest of the day resisting he urge to call or text Anthony. It was killing him that he had up and traveled multiple states away, yet did not think it worth mentioning to him. It just proved that this thing that they had—whatever it was—was not reciprocal. Then again, Brandon considered hadn’t communicated anything either. In the end, he decided on a professional email from his design gallery account, informing Anthony that the models of furniture they had selected for his living room had been verified by the merchants and that he should come to the gallery at his earliest convenience to verify his fabrics and finishes. There, he thought, whipping his laptop shut in a flourish. That was the most noncommittal communication he could think of.

---

Just a few days after New Years saw one of the earliest snowfalls that part of the state had had in years. Accustomed to having a fairly uneventful, bland but cold January, people in the area rushed to unearth shovels and snag bags of snow melt. Bread flew off the shelves and parents threw up their hands at having the kids home again so soon after having endured a Christmas vacation together.

Brandon was at work speaking to yet another client about postponing a visit to the gallery when Anthony walked in. Gray NorthFace parka, black beanie, olive pants, but the pièce de résistance was the golden Fairbanks Columbia boots that started a climb up his calves. As he strode in, he was intercepted by Lydia, who pretended to be greeting him like an ordinary customer but—to Brandon—was obviously being nosy. Brandon fumbled around on his phone call and hung up, watching Anthony has he talked to his coworker.

Was it possible he had gotten more attractive in the last three weeks? It wasn’t just his boots, into which he had tucked his olive pants against the cold slush that covered the parking lots and sidewalks. He was sporting a short, neat beard, which suited him, enhanced his rugged features. When he finally tuned from Lydia the gatekeeper, who was satisfied with whatever exchange they had had and would certainly be sharing her thoughts on with Brandon later, Anthony turned to face Brandon at his desk and smiled. Brandon melted. The hurt, the confusion, and everything else seemed to evaporate as he smiled back—at least for now.

“Hey, bro!” Anthony exclaimed as he drew near to his desk. “How are you doing? Did you have a good Christmas?” His tone was bright, and he was clearly happy to see Brandon. He set a box that he had carried under his arm down before collapsing into the chair in front of the desk. Brandon felt oddly reassured by Anthony’s demeanor. Considering how awkward it should have been after three weeks of nothing, it felt surprisingly not weird. It was the same old Anthony before him. Brandon took a moment to admire a Columbia boot as Anthony crossed his left ankle over his right knee and clapped his hand down on top of it. He could see the wet, chunky treads of the boot and the rounded laces as they strained in their eyelets to hold back the heavily insulated tongue. The boots’ synthetic canvas shell shimmering slightly in the overhead gallery lighting.

“It was very nice. I saw a lot of friends, and enjoyed time with family.” I was also miserable because I had no idea what was going on with you, he thought to himself. “How about you? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Was that too obvious?

Anthony, pulled his beanie off his head and rumpled his wavy hair. Damn…he was even immune to hat head. “Yeah, I know. I got caught up with some family things over the holidays.” Brandon came extremely close to asking if he had family in South Carolina, but stopped himself when he realized that there was only one possible way for him to know that. He did not want Anthony to know he still followed his channel. He simply nodded vaguely.

“Did you get my email? I want to get your furniture order finalized. It can take a while to get these pieces from manufacturing since they are custom, so…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anthony nodded with understanding. “Is there any reason we can’t just go with the colors you picked in the mock up?”

“Probably not, but let me grab the samples.” Brandon slid from his desk and retreated to the work area, where he kept banks of drawers of sample fabrics, wood swatches, and hardware pieces for clients. He pulled Anthony’s drawer from the cabinet and set it on the worktop, checking to make sure each swatch was present. He had even obtained an Agreeable Gray paint chip. He paused to look out onto the gallery floor and watch Anthony as picked at he eyelet on his left boot. Brandon imagined pulling off those boots and admiring his socked feet. They would no doubt be toasty in those insulated boots. “Get a grip, Brandon,” he whispered under his breath.

When he returned with the samples, he and Anthony quickly agreed that the original colors he had pulled would work fortuitously in concert with the paint that Anthony had chosen for the walls. The sofa would be clad in a Smokey gray velvet. One chair would be upholstered in a green tartan, while the other would be in a burnished saddle leather. Anthony seemed pleased as he ran his hands over the sample pieces.

“Next up will be coffee table and lamps and stuff, right?” he looked up from the sample box. Brandon cocked his head, thoughtfully choosing his next words.

“If you want to continue with the project and use us, then sure. We have lots of things we could pair with these picks.” Brandon felt like he was threading a difficult needle, both relieved that Anthony was acting normal, yet hesitant to assume everything was okay. Maybe professionalism was the way to go.

Anthony blinked. “Why wouldn’t I want to continue?”

Brandon shrugged. “No reason if you are happy with what we have here.” Anthony looked at Brandon for a moment, then sat back down, bent forward with his fingers pressed together as he held his hands between his legs. Brandon recognized this posture from the last time he had come to the gallery. He wondered if Lydia was watching from behind a etagere somewhere this time.

“Brandon, I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I guess I figured that if you needed anything you would call. I was…” he paused, tilting his head toward the floor as if considering his words. “I wasn’t in a really great place over Christmas.” Brandon moved from behind his desk and came around to Anthony, leaning against the front. It suddenly didn’t feel right to have his desk between them. He looked down at his own loafers so close to Anthony’s gold snow boots.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Brandon said softly. Anthony looked up.

“Naw, it’s fine. It’s just…” he grimaced. “…I was with my wife.” Brandon wasn’t sure what registered on his face, but he hoped it wasn’t the complete wide-eyed shock that he felt. Anthony continued. “We haven’t been together for, well it’s been years now. She’s from South Carolina, and she actually moved back down there for a job. But for some reason she called me up right before Christmas and asked me to come see her and…I dunno. Guess I felt compelled to do it.”

Brandon unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “It didn’t go well?” Anthony shot him a glance that told him it hadn’t.

“I thought our time apart would have reset things. Wouldn’t you know we were at each other’s throats almost right away? I started to find every excuse I could just to get out of the house.” Brandon started to understand the latest post he had seen on Anthony’s channel. As if reading his mind, Anthony smiled. “I made a video while I was down there.”

Brandon feigned ignorance. “Oh, yeah?”

“Was out on a hike and found a potential spot. It’s pretty warm down there. Didn’t have any gear, so I went to the nearest place to get boots. They didn’t have anything great. I ended up getting the kind you wear in a factory. They have a lot of canneries down there, you know.” So that explained the Dunlops.

“No, I didn’t. I’ve never been.”

Anthony nodded. “So anyway, that’s where I’ve been. I’m glad you at least had a good holiday, though.” He scooped up the box on the floor next to him. “Which reminds me,” he said, brightening, “that I have something for you.” Brandon was astonished.

“Like, a present?” he asked warily. This was a completely unexpected wrinkle.

“Like a present.” Anthony balanced the box on his knee and pressed his right fingertips on the top. “I hesitated with this. I kind of took a risk. I hope you like it, but if you don’t, it’s okay. I won’t be offended.” Brandon slowly took the box and placed it on the desk. It was an unwrapped shipping box, but he was touched that Anthony had thought of him. He nervously peeled the perforated sides and slid a Hunters box from the carton. Brandon looked up. Anthony was watching expectantly.

Brandon peeled the tape from the seams and pried the box open, finding two neatly wrapped brown rubber rain boots inside. They were mid-height and would stop at the calves. Brandon ran his fingers over the supple rubber. The boots were shiny and unblemished, giving off an intoxicating smell.

“What do you think?” Anthony asked nervously. Brandon shook his head.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I know you don’t have any of your own. And I thought that maybe you felt ready to join me some day. You know, take a more…active role in our videos?”

Brandon looked up at Anthony, trying to decipher what he had just said.

“You just always stand at the side,” Anthony went into further explanation. “I just thought that maybe you might want to try being a part of it some day.” He faltered, his face falling. “Did I fuck up?”

“Oh my god, no,” Brandon assured him. “This was amazing of you. I really didn’t expect this.” He looked at the boots and ran his hand over them again. They were sexy, and knowing they were from Anthony made them hotter than anything. Anthony broke out into a smile.

“Great. I’m glad you like them. We’ll have to let things get a little warmer before you can break them in. But it will be great. Just wait.” He stretched his beanie back over his head and stood up. “I better get going.” Brandon nodded.

“Yeah, okay. Be careful out there.”

Anthony looked at him. “You too, bro.” He winked and turned to leave.

---

Brandon glanced at the Hunters box on the passenger seat of his car as he drove home that evening. This entire encounter with Anthony was not just out of the blue. It didn’t gel. He was in South Carolina with his estranged wife, but somewhere in there thought to order a pair of boots for him? And while he was down there, escaped the house and the tension with this woman by making a new mudding video for his channel? Brandon narrowed his eyes as he peered through the windshield, trying to make sense of it all. He didn’t even see the car slide through the intersection and plow into him.