I meet Gigi’s gaze through the mirror. "Stop undressing me with your eyes. It’s unprofessional."

Two scarlet patches rise in her cheeks. "I’m not looking at you."

"I’ve caught you checking out my ass twice." A measuring tape spills from Spencer’s pocket and drags on the floor. I catch his eye. "Tell her, man. You saw it."

He dances around me with a pin, eyebrows furrowed. "Keep me out of your lover’s quarrel and hold the fuck still."

"We’re not together. Thank God." Gigi crosses her arms over her ridiculous Mrs. Claus outfit.

She was already dressed when I walked inside. She’s wearing a deep-red dress that ends mid-thigh. Her sleeves, hem, and collar are covered in several inches of fluffy white faux-fur. Skinny riding boots hug her calves. She wears her dark brown hair loose. A lopsided Santa hat sits on her curls, and her cherry-red lips are fixed into a pout.

It’s kind of hot, actually.

I had a laugh when I saw her. I’m done playing nice with Good Girl. She snubs every attempt to bury the hatchet, and glowers at me like this is my fault.

Spencer moans with relief. "This might work."

He pins the thick red fabric around my waist as I stand in nothing but my boxer briefs. It’s a little weird. I’m not used to being on display. The only reprieve to my boredom is watching Gigi. She tries not to stare, but she can’t help it. I’m a muscled god, and her ex was a formless mound of dough—I looked him up on Facebook.

She’s probably dying to know what real pecs feel like. Gigi keeps stealing glances while she thinks I’m looking elsewhere. It’s cute.

Feast your eyes, Gigi.

"You guys know the drill, right? Hate each other all you want, but once you’re in that hospital surrounded by those sick kids—"

"Yeah, yeah." Gigi hand-waves his concern. "We’ll behave."

We haven’t talked in days, but our first outing is approaching. We’re supposed to visit the children’s hospital. Spencer stressed we needed practice before the big event.

Fabric flies from my chest as he drapes it over the table. Then he grabs a creamy bodysuit with a massive gut and hoists it in his scrawny arms. "Put this on."

My good mood evaporates. "No."

Gigi’s laughter cuts through me.

"Yes." Spencer shoves the suit into my arms. "Now."

I let it drop. "Hell no. I’m not wearing that."

"Yes, you fucking are. Gigi, come here and help me. This weighs a ton."

A slick smile widens Gigi’s face. "My pleasure."

"You’re not making me wear a fat suit. It’s humiliating."

"Poor thing." Gigi grabs the left arm and lifts. "Deal with it."

It’s just a few extra pounds. No big deal.

But I can’t shake the dread when I look down. I struggle through the arms. Then the legs. Laughing, Gigi zips the suit. Then she stands back and admires the view.

Forget my toes, I can’t even see my cock bulge. "Let’s think about this, guys."

Gigi’s evil grin grows. "Well, I love it."

"Give me a break! I don’t have enough neck for this to look real."

Spencer peers at me, stroking his chin. "You’re right."

Thank God. "Get this off me."

"All he needs is a scarf." Gigi unwinds the snow-white fabric and tosses it over my head. Bright eyed, she wraps it around my neck.

"Don’t choke me."

"I’m not, you big baby."

I tug at the collar. "Feels like a noose."

"It’s perfect."

I’ve never seen her so happy. She bursts into giggles when an unsmiling Spencer drapes the Santa suit over my shoulders. Gigi helps stuff my bloated limbs into the sleeves, releasing a gale of laughter that heats my blood.

"I need to take pics of this." She snaps photos with her iPhone.

"What is this, blackmail? Delete that shit!"

"Nah. Don’t think so." Gigi circles me, shooting my unflattering gut from every angle. "Uploading to Facebook."

"If you post those anywhere, I swear to God."

"Ooh." Her tantalizing lips form a perfect red circle. "You mad?"

I choke out a laugh. "No, I’m disappointed. Thought you were better than this."

"That’s rich." She toys with her phone, taunting me with the pictures. "Looks like I’ve finally found your weak spot. Vanity."

"This is boiling. I can’t wear this all day."

"Stop whining," Spencer snaps. "Both of you are due at the hospital. Go."

"All right. Keep your hair on." Gigi grabs her red handbag and heads toward the exit. "Come along, Ronan."

I follow her slowly, scowling. The added weight twinges my ankle, but I’ll be damned if I show her weakness.

I am not vain.

Gigi flashes me a condescending smirk. "Don’t fall behind!"

"Joke’s on you! I have a fantastic view of your legs."

"The children are waiting, Santa."

I hobble onto the parking lot. There’s one silver lining about all this insulation—not cold. But that perk quickly turns into a nuisance once I shove myself into Gigi’s tiny car.

"Stifling." I tug my collar. "I need air."

"Hold on a second." Gigi stuffs my coat into the car. It’s almost worth watching her struggle, the jingle bell necklace dangling over her cleavage.

I’m miserable once she climbs into the driver’s seat, looks at me, and bursts into laughter.

"Put the A/C on. Now."

Gigi wipes tears of mirth from her cheeks. "This is the best day ever."

"You better be nice, or Santa will drag you over his lap and spank your ass."

"In front of the children?" Gigi starts the car, and turns the air at full blast. "I can’t imagine you would."

She pulls from the lot and drives over the speed bump. The jostling is incredibly uncomfortable.

"Please hurry. I want out of this thing as soon as possible."

"Get used to it. You’ll be wearing it over and over and over—"

"Whatever. I don’t care."

"Yeah," she laughs. "Sure."

Walking into the children’s ward is a sobering experience. I’ll never complain about wearing this suit again. My biggest problems are a busted ankle and a deadbeat dad occasionally hitting me up for money, which seem insignificant now.

Green cardboard cutouts of trees plaster the walls of the children’s ward. Garlands of fake snow makes rings around the hospital room windows. A kid with a heavily scarred face plays in a miniature car. He stops at the sight of me, mouth agape. "Santa?"

"Ho, ho, ho!" The beard’s fibers tickle my nose when I smile. I give my best impression of a belly laugh. "Come here!"

The boy stumbles from the red car, backless nighty streaming as he bowls into my legs. I wrap my arms around him. It feels like hugging a bird.

"I can’t believe you’re here!"

"What’s your name, young man?"

"Tom!"

"Come with me, Tom." I take his hand, guiding him to the playroom, which is decorated in anticipation of my arrival. A plastic chair sits in the middle of a sterile room. LCD screens hang above, streaming The Grinch. A mountain of toys sit in organized boxes. The kids here are clearly looked after, but it’s a grim place in which to grow up.

At least I can be a bright spot in their day. The throne meant for Santa is wrapped in gold twine. Red construction paper sticks to the seat, glitter everywhere. I doubt my fat ass will fit, but I have to try for the kiddos.

Gigi wraps her arm around my shoulder and waves at them, plastic gold wedding ring flashing on her hand. Children wearing glum expressions explode with delight when they see us.

A scream splits the air. A girl whose head is wrapped in a shawl points at me. "It’s Santa!"

All decorum forgotten, the children stampede into the playroom and surround the chair.

"Hold on, kids. Santa needs to sit down." I sink into the seat they decorated, the suit squeaking loudly.

"Oh, Santa!" Gigi wrinkles her nose and wafts the air. "You have to go easy on the cookies!"

A chorus of giggles run through the crowd. "Santa, did you fart?"

"Yes," I say, knowing they’ll love it. "And I’m not ashamed. Tooting is a perfectly normal body thing."

"Kids, Mr. and Mrs. Claus have lots of children to visit." A harassed-looking nurse wearing festive scrubs ushers them into a line.

One by one, Gigi hoists them onto my lap. They’re not heavy, poor things, as sick as they are. Most of them ask for better health. Promising them to do my best guts me. It’s hard not to get a little teary-eyed when Tom asks if he could just go home for Christmas.

After visiting the children too ill to leave their beds, Gigi and I walk to the elevators in silence. Her wide grin disappears the moment the doors shut, after Tom waves goodbye for the fifth time.

Gigi seems to shrink against the wall.

I need a pick-me-up. "Jesus, that was rough."

"Those poor kids." Gigi’s voice breaks. "When Tom asked you for a new face, I almost lost it."

"Me too."

A tear streaks down Gigi’s face. "It was worth it, though."

"Always is."

"You’ve done this before?"

"Oh yeah. I visit fans that write to me—mostly kids. They’re more resilient than we give them credit for." I touch Gigi’s shoulder because I hate seeing her like this. "Don’t cry. I’m not sure I can handle it after all the kids."

She laughs.

The elevator doors ding, opening to the lobby. She walks to the parking lot. A chime echoes in my impossible-to-reach pocket.

"Could you?"

Gigi fishes her keys from her purse. "You want me to stick my hand into your pants?"

"I’m asking you to get my phone, not grab my dick."

She sends me a withering look.

"You’ve changed so much since high school, Good Girl."

Her cheeks flush when she retrieves my cell and hands it over. "Here."

I scowl at the screen. "Ugh."

Groaning, I wedge open the door and squeeze into Gigi’s tiny car. "I have a favor to ask you."

She snorts. "This should be good."

"Come to a party with me. We could both use fun after that hospital visit."

"No thanks."

"Please?" I try not to sound whiny. "I really don’t want to go alone."

"What are you, fifteen?"

"It’s Lance’s party. I’m sort of expected to be there."

She starts the car. "Then cancel."

"I can’t…it’s complicated."

Gigi doesn’t understand how deep bro codes run. She had her own posse in high school, but I’m pretty sure her group didn’t have a list of stupid rules. Bros before hoes. Lance still uses that as a mantra. I’m tired of keggers and drinking shots. Really not my thing anymore.

"If you’re my ride, I have an ironclad reason to leave the party early. Look, some of your friends will be there. Liana is coming, too."

"How about this—I’ll come if you go as Santa."

"Seriously?"

She grins wider. "Yes."

"Fine. Have it your way, you sadist."