Page 9 of Brad & Finn
Finn slowly released his fist. He spread his fingers out, smoothing the crumpled fabric against Brad’s chest. Brad would have to report back to his mom that the tingles she always read about in romance novels were real. Every brush of Finn’s fingers felt like heat and electricity, pebbling his skin under his two layers of clothes.
“But…?” Brad asked, all too aware that this seemed to be becoming a familiar refrain between them. While it could have felt like pulling teeth, desperately trying to pull words out of the man that he clearly wished to speak, it actually felt more like turning the page in a book. Each “but” was an opportunity for Brad to walk away, and each time he responded, it was him choosing to stay, just a little bit longer.
Finn’s hand was now pressed flat against Brad’s chest. “But I think we need to talk?—”
The elevator dinged and made a loud clanking noise as the door chugged open. Finn dropped his hand and stepped back, farther away from his door. He squinted down the hallway and then back at Brad.
Brad lowered his hands so he looked a little less ridiculous, but he kept them in front of him, making sure Finn could see he wasn’t going to make any more advances.
Finn’s hand clenched so hard, Brad could hear the plastic of the hotel key creak. “We can…just talk?” Finn asked, stepping towards his door, putting him parallel to Brad’s shoulder.
Brad craned his neck to the side, trying to make eye contact as he said, “Yes. And I promise, no funny business.”
Finn chewed on the side of his lip for a moment before releasing it and sliding his key into the card reader. He pushed down on the door handle, shoved the door open, and stepped inside without another word.
2
FINN
Finn had toldChloe this entire thing was a mistake, but had she listened? No. Because she never listened.
Not the summer of freshman year, when he’d told her not to use the sketchy rope swing to jump into the lake. She’d ended up breaking the rope and landing on her back in the water, knocking the wind right out of her, and she’d sunk like a rock. Finn hadn’t been wearing a swimsuit because he rarely did back then, and he’d been forced to dive in after her in his baggy shirt and Soffe shorts. They’d both nearly drowned as he’d attempted to drag her back to shore, and truthfully, it would have served them both right.
She hadn’t listened the next summer either, when he’d told her stealing her daddy’s moonshine and refilling it with water was asking for trouble. When they’d drunkenly kissed under the stars in Finn’s backyard, they’d both learned more about themselves and each other than they’d bargained for.
Now, here they were, back in town some twenty years later, and Chloe was still getting him into all kinds of trouble.
He couldn’t believe he’d run into Brad Willson, of all people, at the bar. He should’ve walked away. That, at least, he couldn’tblame on Chloe. As soon as he’d realized the two large men talking at the bar next to him were former Gomillion football players, he should’ve turned on his heel and left.
He'd only recognized Miles by his name, having kept his distance from the football players who weren’t in his immediate friend group. Brad he’d recognized by his boisterous, almost melodic laugh. He laughed like he was in on every joke, and he wanted everyone around him to get it, too.
Finn was shocked at how different, and yet still familiar, Brad looked. He still had the same shock of dark hair, but the new style was much longer than his football crew cut. It was the kind of hairstyle Finn wanted to run his fingers through as they lounged on the couch or tangle his hands in late at night. Brad was also sporting a full beard and mustache, something his younger self had bemoaned an inability to achieve. It seemed he had no problem in that department now. His physique appeared to be much the same—broad shoulders that tapered down into a slimmer waist. He was a bit thicker around the middle than in high school, but weren’t they all?
Well, actually, Finn was still relatively thin, but not for a lack of trying. Even with the added bonus of testosterone, he wasn’t able to put on bulk, and after years of keeping a high school athlete’s lifting schedule, Finn had finally given up. Now, he mostly went for long, leisurely jogs around town, often picking up Chloe to finish out the back half of the run.
After Finn had finished checking out the former football captain sitting at the bar, he’d tuned into the conversation Brad was having with Miles, and it intrigued him enough to make him stay put. Never in a million years would he have guessed that the two jocks would have such an open conversation about sexuality—at the old Paul Bunyan bar, no less.
He wanted to ask Brad more about coming out as a college athlete, but now probably wasn’t the right time, given that Bradwas standing awkwardly by the door to Finn’s hotel room. He seemed to be trying to make himself smaller by tucking his shoulders forward and holding his hands in front of himself.
Funny, that was a pose Finn had used for years, even before he’d understood why. Another pose he’d relied on was the one he was currently in, arms crossed, protecting his flat chest and vulnerable heart.
“Can I get you something to drink? I think there’s water, tea, soda…more alcohol?” Finn asked, leaving out that, for the conversation they were about to have, Brad mightwantsome more alcohol.
Brad glanced at the TV stand where the fridge was hidden. It was probably the same in every room…or perhaps Brad had stayed at the hotel before? Maybe when he’d come down to visit his mom.
Just like Brad, Finn had also grown up with a single parent. It was something they’d connected over back in high school. He wondered if Brad would remember that, or if the reality of Finn’s admission was going to wipe every good memory they’d ever shared.
Adding to his list of fuck-ups for the day, Finn realized it was probably incredibly stupid of him to invite Brad into his room instead of asking if they could go to his. If the conversation went poorly, Finn could’ve left Brad’s room and fled across the hall. He wanted to think that Brad would leave Finn’s room if asked to, but…well, Finn had made stupid assumptions before.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Brad said, pulling Finn out of his spiraling thoughts.
Finn took his time pulling out Sprite, cranberry juice, orange juice, and a single airplane bottle of vodka. Brad didn’t say anything as Finn prepared the drinks, splashing a little extra vodka in his own glass.
Brad accepted the drink, and they clinked glasses before each taking a healthy sip. Brad’s face transformed, his mouth going a little slack and his eyes falling to half-mast.
“Wow…that brings back memories. We used to drink something like this?—”
“At football parties, I know,” Finn said, and Brad’s mouth snapped closed with an audible click.
