Page 11 of Brad & Finn
“I…uhm, sure?” he said, causing Brad’s face to morph from concerned to highly confused. Finn cleared his throat as heat crept up his neck. “Sorry, that was pretty incoherent. I’m just…well, shocked is a bit of an understatement.”
One side of Brad’s lips lifted in a wry smile. “I think we both might be a little shocked—in case my rambling wasn’t a good clue.”
Finn took a drink, surprised to find his hand was shaking. Brad’s warm brown eyes took in the movement, but mercifully, he said nothing.
“You’re right. I’m sorry if this all comes as a shock. I didn’t intend to surprise you with it.”
Brad waved his empty hand in the air between them. “Hey, no harm, no foul, seriously. I can’t imagine it’s an easy thing to burst out with in the middle of a bar. Could we maybe…start over?”
Brad surprised him by standing up and extending his hand out in front of him. It took Finn’s muddled brain a painful few seconds to catch up before he scrambled to his feet. He thrust his still shaky hand into Brad’s and shook it once—and then again for good measure.
“Hi. I’m not sure if you remember me from high school, but I’m Brad. I was captain of the football team, and I dated the captain of the cheerleading team for a while,” Brad said, maintaining a firm grip on his hand.
The palm of Finn’s hand itched, which meant he was about to start sweating, but he didn’t want to let go yet. When he’d declined Brad’s kiss, he’d assumed that was the end of any physical intimacy between them. If the last thing he got to do was shake Brad’s hand, he was going to appreciate the moment.
“H-hi,” he stammered, like they really were meeting for the first time. “I’m Finn. I definitely remember you, and I, uh, hope you remember me, too. I was the co-captain of the cheerleading team, and I spent a fair amount of time around the football team with Kendall and Chloe.”
Brad grinned at him and tipped his head in a way that seemed to imply he should keep going.
Finn tightened his fingers around Brad’s and cleared his throat. “Uhm, I use he/him pronouns, and I don’t have a preference for compliments—I mean…if you happened to want to give me one, I don’t mind most of them, but you also, obviously, don’t have to if?—”
Brad’s rumbling laughter rolled over Finn, cutting off his spiraling monologue. “So, just so we’re clear, words like ‘beautiful,’ ‘gorgeous,’ and ‘sexy’ are okay?”
Finn flushed from the tips of his ears down to his stomach. His hand was definitely sweating now, but Brad refused to let go. “Y-yeah…those are fine.”
Brad gave the second most endearing smile Finn had ever seen. The first had been earlier at the bar, and it had nearly taken Finn’s breath away. Here, in his tiny hotel room, it shot straight to Finn’s groin.
“I’ll be sure to remember that,” Brad whispered, and Finn finally pulled his hand free in an attempt to cover a full-body shiver.
Finn didn’t do this. He didn’t have one-night stands or even weekend flings. He preferred to date, and while he’d only been moderately successful with that, it was still better than playingthe “get to know Finn and his parts and preferences” game with a stranger.
Some part of him—probably the part between his legs that didn’t get nearly enough attention—tried to object that Brad wasn’t a stranger, but he ignored that. He settled back on the edge of his bed, and this time, Brad sat down next to him, leaving a respectful several inches of space between them.
“So, you didn’t have any kind of plan for how you were going to handle running into people you used to know, did you?” Brad asked, his voice curious but not judgmental.
Finn sighed and swirled his drink between his semi-spread legs. It was mostly ice now, and he considered getting up to refill it, but the warmth Brad’s body was putting off was nice, and he realistically didn’t need anything more to drink.
“I want to say I intended to figure out a plan tomorrow before registration, but I was probably just going to wing it. Overhearing you and Miles talking so openly about your sexuality has given me a bit of hope that maybe things have changed, but…”
“But sexuality and gender are different,” Brad finished softly.
Finn turned sideways, pulling his leg up onto the bed between them. His knee just barely pressed against the outside of Brad’s thigh, and neither of them made any attempt to readjust.
“You seem to know a lot about gender identity,” Finn said, attempting to keep the incredulity out of his voice. He must have done a pretty poor job of it because Brad gave him the side eye.
“My cousin is trans,” he said, his voice firm and no nonsense, as if he was used to having to defend this. “She came out only a few years into college, and my mom and I had to learn all about gender identity or risk losing some of the only family we had left.”
Finn wasn’t surprised by the implication that Brad and his mom hadn’t stayed in contact with any of his father’s family. Kurt Lawson, leaving his wife and six-year-old son to run off with a flight attendant, had made such a splash in Gomillion that even Finn had heard about it. They’d gone to different elementary schools, what with Finn’s dad living on the northern outskirts of town, but they’d gone to the same middle school. Finn had felt an immediate kinship towards the energetic boy with only one parent, but Brad hadn’t even known Finn existed until he joined the cheerleading team first year of high school.
Brad tipped to the side to place his empty glass on the nightstand. It caused his hoodie to ride up, and Finn caught a glimpse of a deep-cut oblique muscle before Brad sat up again.
“Actually,” Brad said with a soft laugh, “Jamie coming out over Thanksgiving dinner was what finally gave me the courage to come out to my mom.”
“At the same Thanksgiving dinner?” Finn asked, his lips quirking up as he imagined what a wild ride that would have been for Ms. Willson.
He’d often seen her at home games and even a few away games, cheering loudly for her cherished son. Finn’s dad had attended one, and only one, basketball game Finn cheered at freshman year. At halftime, he’d patted Finn awkwardly on the shoulder—always unsure of how to interact with his aloof child—then admitted the game was far too loud for him and he didn’t like sports anyway. He’d left before Finn could muster up a response, and that had been that.
“Uhm…no,” Brad said. “I randomly came out over the phone late that next spring semester. She was surprisingly cool about it. Or, I guess, it wasn’t much of a surprise. I was just…” Brad leaned forward, bending over his legs again, and Finn tried to recall if Brad had always tried to make himself seem smaller when he was stressed.
