As someone who’d practically grown up in this mall, Tom loved discovering its secrets. There existed nooks and crannies that he’d found during late nights and lots of time wandering around. About a year ago, he found a door next to where the telephone booths used to be, back when that was a thing. Behind it were stairs that led up to an empty office that overlooked the center of the mall and food court through a two-way mirror. Tom surmised that this was where security used to watch over the mall before the advent of closed-circuit cameras.

Tom loved watching people flit around beneath him, going about their lives oblivious that someone saw them. Kind of like God himself. He looked forward to lunches up here, where he could have peace and quiet.

But today, when Tom came up here, he was not alone. Someone else had discovered his secret spot. Someone wearing an all-red suit.

Alert! Alert! We have a Hot Mall Santa in our midst!

Hot Mall Santa sat in the office chair eating a burger from Wendy’s with one hand and sipping pop with the other. He looked out the two-way mirror, probably playing the God game himself. Tom’s chest clamped up with nerves. He turned to leave silently, but the office door creaked. Hot Mall Santa spun around.

“Hey.” His beard was pulled down to his neck and his jacket was open, revealing a white tank top that barely contained his pecs and abs. Seeing his face unadorned, Hot Mall Santa looked to be in his early twenties, just like Tom.

“Hey,” Tom managed to say, although it was quite the herculean feat on his part.

“Is it okay if I’m here?”

“Probably not.” Tom gripped his Chipotle burrito in his hand, and it made him think of other phallic objects.

“Well, I won’t tell if you won’t.” Hot Mall Santa pointed to the extra chair against the wall. He made space on the desk where his Wendy’s bag was.

“Thanks.” Tom was too nervous to eat in front of him. “How did you find this place?”

“I was headed to the food court, and this pack of moms was coming at me, so I ran into the first door I saw, which led me here.” Hot Mall Santa took fries out of his Wendy’s bag and dipped them in ketchup. “Am I hogging your space?”

“No. It’s not my space.”

“But I take it you’ve been up here before.”

“Yeah. I like coming up here. It’s quiet. I like looking at the bustle, not being in it.” Tom nudged his chin at the window.

“So you’re more of a voyeur.”

Tom felt his face get redder than Hot Mall Santa’s suit.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He got too much pleasure from watching Hot Mall Santa’s lips curl around the straw and sip pop.

He checked the clock on the wall. He didn’t have much time to eat. He couldn’t waste precious minutes looking for a new location. And he didn’t want to. Tom sat down. He couldn’t believe he was in the presence of the one and only Hot Mall Santa.

“So how do you like it here?” Tom asked. “You’re quite popular.”

“It’s the holidays.”

“It’s not just that.”

Hot Mall Santa shrugged modestly. The suggestion seemed to pain him just a bit. “Whatcha reading?”

He pointed at the book Tom carried under his burrito.

“It’s all about the best beaches in the U.S.”

“You didn’t just Google it?”

“I like reading books, not listicles.”

Hot Mall Santa signaled for him to pass it over. He studied the cover and flipped through the pages.

Tom unwrapped his burrito. He hoped he didn’t look too suggestive eating it in front of him. He doubted Hot Mall Santa would even make that connection.

“What’s your favorite beach?” Hot Mall Santa asked.

“Miami. Venice Beach and Santa Monica in California look like a lot of fun, but apparently the Pacific Ocean doesn’t warm up like the Atlantic. The water in Florida is said to be warmest. The water on the Gulf side is warmer, but after that oil spill disaster, I don’t trust being in there.”

“The Atlantic is just as polluted.”

“But it has better waves,” Tom said. “At least that’s what I’ve read.”

Hot Mall Santa handed back the book. He picked another fry out from his bag. “Don’t you love the smell? That’s my favorite part of the ocean. They should bottle it up and sell that shit.”

“The Décor Store has ocean-scented candles.”

“It’s not the same.” Hot Mall Santa slouched in the office chair like he did on his Santa Throne. He had this aura of cool. Tom believed some people were born with it, and others were meant to be fidgety, neurotic messes. “You know that salty smell,” he said.

“I don’t. I’ve never been to the beach.”

“To any beach?” Hot Mall Santa asked.

“My family and I would go to Lake Michigan every summer.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“I know. I hate when people here say they’re going to the beach. You’re not! You’re going to a lake with tiny waves, imported sand, and no salt water.” Tom and Hot Mall Santa shared a laugh. “I want to dip my feet in the ocean one day. Miami, Venice Beach. I’ll even take the Jersey shore.”

“They’re all great.”

“You’ve been?” Tom asked. As if Hot Mall Santa wasn’t already sexy and naturally cool. He’d been everywhere Tom wanted to go.

“Venice is pretty crunchy. Lots of tattoo parlors, and the scent of weed hangs in the air. Also, you can go into the ocean anywhere in California. Just pull off to the side of the road. But in Jersey, you have to pay to go on the beach. They have boardwalks, though. And Miami’s just a constant party, especially South Beach. People will party till dawn then sleep on the sand.”

“You really have been everywhere. Why are you here in Oakville, Illinois then?”

Hot Mall Santa seemed to consider this seriously, but then a smiled cracked on his face. “I’m a sucker for the holidays. I’ve always wanted to experience a white Christmas.”

“I’ll remember you said that when it dips below freezing in a few weeks.” Tom ate his burrito extra slow. He wasn’t going to make a scene in front of His Hotness.

“So when is your beach vacation?” Hot Mall Santa asked.

“I don’t know. Whenever I can save up the money. I’m taking my mom and me.” Tom flushed with embarrassment. A vacation with his mother? It sounded like a beach-set sequel to Psycho. “She’s never been either. It’s a special occasion kind of thing. I don’t hang out all the time with my mom. I have friends.”

I have friends? That is literally the lamest thing that has ever been said!

But Hot Mall Santa didn’t flinch. “I hope you two get to go. If you go to Miami, try to stay as close to Ocean Drive as you can. It has great restaurants and clubs. And the best people watching ever.”

“Better than the Oakville Mall?”

“Hmmm…it’s a close race.” Hot Mall Santa took another fry from his Wendy’s bag. “You want one?”

“You don’t take your fries out of the bag?” Tom asked. And you eat deep-fried carbohydrates and still look like that?

“No. I’ve always liked eating them like this. The bag keeps in the heat.”

“Keeps them from getting cold.”

“Yeah.”

“I love the fries that fall out of the carton into the bottom of the bag. They’re like…”

“Bonus fries,” Hot Mall Santa said, basically reading Tom’s mind. He pinned Tom down with his eyes. They had a ring of amber around the edges, as if they were two solar eclipses.

Tom remembered to chew his fry with his mouth closed.

Hot Mall Santa sipped the last of his pop and gathered up his trash. “My fans are waiting for me,” he said mockingly. “Thanks for letting me share your secret lunch spot.”

He left Tom to finish his burrito alone, but Tom couldn’t eat. Not when his mouth wouldn’t stop smiling.