EXCERPT MOVING ON
Graeme watched from across the room as Brandt danced slowly with a nice-looking man decked out in a purple, crushed-velvet pimp costume. There were some wild costumes at the Halloween dance party tonight and Brandt was looking extra hot in a tight sailor boy costume.
Graeme didn’t remember seeing the man Brandt was with before, but he’d taken notice of the guy tonight. He’d watched the purple pimp checking out Brandt and finally working up the nerve to approach Brandt for a dance. The man was clearly on the prowl for a hookup, and if there was one thing Graeme wanted tonight, it was for Brandt to finally get laid again. Brandt really needed to move on with his life.
The man had been polite and pleasant. He seemed like a nice guy. Not at all predatory -- pimp costume notwithstanding. He’d be a good choice for Brandt tonight. They looked good together.
It had been just over a year since Graeme had left Brandt, and it had been a very hard year on Brandt. Hell, it had been hard on both of them, and if Graeme could fix it, he would, but he didn’t know how.
Brandt had been doing pretty well these past few months, but he still wasn’t getting out like he should. Graeme was glad to see that their friends, Jason and John, had been able to convince Brandt to get out of the house to attend this party with them.
As Graeme watched the couple dance, the purple pimp started putting moves on Brandt, squeezing Brandt’s ass and pressing their hips together. Brandt reacted quickly, placing both hands squarely on the man’s chest and heaving. The man let go immediately.
Shaking his head, Graeme had to stop himself from crossing the floor to try to talk some sense into Brandt. Wouldn't do any good, anyway. Damn it, Brandt. He seemed like a decent guy. Why didn’t you go with it?
The song ended and Brandt stalked to the edge of the dance floor, looking wretched. The purple pimp watched him go, looking confused as hell. Fuck.
Graeme moved closer to Brandt, wanting to be near former lover. He desperately wished there was something, anything, he could do to help Brandt, but what? He'd already tried everything he could think of.
Jason and John came off the dance floor, looking sexy in their matching pirate costumes. Their brows were knit as they approached Brandt. Brandt got a hug from John first, then Jason.
Jason said, “Brandt, you know we love you, right?”
Brandt just nodded his head and stared at the ground.
Jason looked at John for help, and John took over. “Brandt, honey, we know how much you loved Graeme, and I know this probably sounds trite, but it’s time to move on. It’s been over a year. Please, let us help you, hon.”
“Love, John, not ‘loved.’ I love him, now and forever,” was Brandt’s forlorn reply. The look of hopelessness on Brandt’s face was distressing.
Fuck. Graeme would love Brandt forever and it broke his heart, seeing Brandt as miserable as he’d been this past year. Graeme couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to Brandt. “I love you, too, sweetheart, now and forever, but they’re right. I need you to be happy again. Please.”
Brandt looked up sharply. He spun around and looked through Graeme, seeing the crowd behind him.
Brandt hadn’t actually heard him, had he? No, Graeme had spoken to Brandt so many times in the past year, and Brandt had never heard him.
Jason and John looked at each other. “What is it?” asked Jason.
Brandt turned back to them, bewilderment in his eyes. “Nothing. I’m sure it was nothing.”
EXCERPT MOVING ALONG
Brandt smiled as he added the framed photo to the collection on the mantle. Jason or John, he couldn’t remember which one, had taken the shot of him and Mark at Thanksgiving. Mark looked fabulous in the photo. His beautiful, dark blue-grey eyes shone as they looked at Brandt. And his sandy blonde hair -- damn -- Brandt loved to run his fingers through those straight thick locks. Their smiles were full of the joy they each felt in the other’s company.
Brandt looked at the other photos on the mantle, pausing at the Halloween snapshot. The gay social club he belonged to hosted an annual Halloween dance party and always took stacks of candid photos during the event. He’d found one from this year’s party that caught his first encounter with Mark.
In the photo their bodies were molded together, Mark’s hand at the small of Brandt’s back holding him close. Brandt’s face was upturned, as he kissed Mark’s neck. The look on Mark’s face was smoldering, his eyes dark.
Brandt had to smirk at the absurdity of their costume pairing in the photo. Mark was wearing a purple crushed velvet pimp costume. His wide brimmed hat was ridiculous. Brandt had wavered between self-confidence and uncertainty in his own snug sailor boy costume.
But it wasn’t the figures in the photo that captured Brandt’s attention. It was the glimmer of light that seemed to have no explanation that always drew Brandt’s eyes. The mysterious sparkle was exactly in the spot where a soft voice had come from, encouraging him to move on that night.
Brandt’s eyes traveled over the remaining photos on the mantle. Graeme shared the spotlight with Brandt in those photos. Brandt’s chest was tight as he remembered the idyllic times he’d shared with his first love.
Brandt shook his head to dissipate the sad bend his thoughts were taking. He hadn’t fallen into a depression in months and was determined to keep it that way. Although he wanted to remember the good times they’d shared forever, the dark, early months after Graeme’s untimely death were something Brandt would just as soon forget.
When he looked back at the Thanksgiving photo with Mark, his heart lifted. They’d been together less than two months, but Mark meant so much to him already. How was it possible to care so much about two men who were so very different from one another? Perhaps it was because they were the same in the ways that really mattered to Brandt. Mark was a good person. He was caring and thoughtful and treated Brandt like a prince.
Brandt felt like he was at a crossroads in his life, with decisions to be made. Did he love Mark? Did he want to build a new life with this man?
EXCERPT PHOTO SHOOT
Eddie kicked out of his sneakers and shed his sweaty workout clothes in record time. He questioned his sanity as he headed for the shower. Trent was nuts. Eddie wasn’t a model. Why did Trent want him to pose for photos at all, let alone artsy nudes? And what the hell had he been thinking agreeing to that crap?
He reached into the shower stall and turned on the water. He’d caved because Trent was his best friend and needed this for a large class project. But he’d only agreed on the condition that Trent give him a month to get into a little better shape first. He’d never spent so much time running or working out at the fitness center. Damn, or nursing sore muscles.
The month was up and it was way too soon. Eddie turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He saw nothing that appealed to him. He wasn’t overweight by any stretch of the imagination, but there still wasn’t any real muscle definition. He was just -- there. His face wasn’t anything special to look at either. Again, it was just there.
A guy would have to be pretty desperate to ask him out. Okay, so maybe his situation wasn’t that dire, but he was in one hell of a dry spell. Eddie sighed and stepped under the hot shower spray.
Trent, on the other hand, was on the wrong side of the camera. He sure didn’t lack for dates. Although to be fair, Trent didn't have much luck with boyfriends, though.
In Eddie's dreams -- well, in his wildest dreams -- Trent would look at him and suddenly discover the error of his ways and see how perfect they’d be together. Okay, so it was beyond his wildest dreams, but definitely another good reason why it was a big mistake to get naked and pose his scrawny ass for Trent. Shit.
Even dragging his feet it only took him twenty minutes to shower, get dressed, and find himself standing in front of the door to Trent's loft. Please don’t be home. Please, please, just don’t be home.
No such luck. The door swung open, and Trent’s smile beamed at him. “I knew I could count on you, Eddie. I can always count on you.”
There went Eddie's resolve to try and beg off. He couldn’t do that to Trent. Double shit.
Trent led him toward the back of the loft where there was a bare brick wall. There was a professional looking lighting set up aimed at the wall. Lights? Couldn’t they just do this is some kind of subtle gloom?
Trent must have sensed Eddie's nervousness, because he kept his tone light. “It’ll be fine, Eddie. You look great.”
Bullshit. Eddie had a mirror. He shook his head dejectedly. “I don’t look great, Trent. I don’t know why you’d want me for this. I’ll probably trash your grade.”
Trent’s tone turned serious. “Eddie?”
Shit. “What?”
“You look great. You’re exactly what I want for this. You have a grace that muscle bound oafs only wish they could duplicate. You’re perfect -- a normal guy that people can look at and relate to, only with a poise that’ll make ’em green with envy.”
Huh? Eddie didn’t ask -- didn’t want Trent to think he was fishing for phony compliments. It helped hearing that, though. He supposed he was average enough. Not hideous anyway, but grace? Who was Trent trying to kid with that?
Trent cleared his throat, obviously wanting to move things along. “Well, um, can I get you something to drink or are you ready to get started?” |
