Chapter 3
“ Y OU ARE NOT wearing that.”
Brantley looked over at Jordan, his colleague and friend, who was perched on the end of his bed. He’d let him in ten minutes ago, filled a wine glass, and then told him to either entertain himself or help him pick out an appropriate outfit to?—
“Make a man ten years your junior want to fuck your brains out?”
“Ahh no, no. I’m not forty yet,” Brantley said. “So technically nine. Don’t add years to me that aren’t already there. It’s bad enough you just turned thirty-five.”
“That’s what you get for befriending a genius. It’s not my fault I was a child prodigy.”
That was true. It wasn’t Jordan’s fault. He’d had a very interesting childhood. One that had led him through a fast-tracked education and then spat him out the other side as a professor by the age of twenty-four. The youngest to ever be hired on at UCF.
The fact that he was five years Brantley’s junior was nothing new, but it’d always been a bit of a sore spot for him. And now, it was more apparent than ever. Here he was, closing in on forty, while his best friend was turning thirty-five and Daniel had just hit thirty.
Great.
He fidgeted with the hanger in his hands, then threw it aside and pulled the tie from around his neck. Once he’d tossed it on the pile of shirts draped across a chair, he shook his head. “And thanks, by the way. You’ve been very helpful.”
“What? That is the goal tonight, isn’t it?”
“No,” he said as he unbuttoned the striped shirt he’d put on a minute ago. He shrugged out of it and then moved to the next choice he’d picked out. God, this is ridiculous.
This was at least the tenth shirt he’d tried on, and even though he kept telling himself not to be anxious, he couldn’t stop the excited nerves spiking his adrenaline. He still couldn’t believe he was going to see Daniel, his Finn , in a little over two hours.
For the entire day, he’d tried not to overthink the meaning behind Daniel’s return. But that hopeful part of him, the part he’d been trying to squash after he hadn’t heard anything in response to his note, had blossomed once again. Bringing with it all the promise and possibility of new beginnings.
He needed to stop that, however. He needed to distract himself or he would go insane. No matter how this went tonight, Daniel was there, and anything after that he could deal with.
Right? Right .
“It’s not like that, Jordan.”
Jordan took a sip of his Pinot Noir and lounged back on his elbow. “Sure it isn’t.”
“It isn’t.”
“Okay, I’m just saying. We both know what a hot piece of ass Daniel Finley was back in the day. I’m preeetty sure he couldn’t have changed that much.”
Brantley looked in the mirror and stared at the changes in his reflection. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about how Daniel would look, because he was more than aware of the laugh lines creasing his own eyes and?—
“You don’t look old,” Jordan chimed in behind him.
That comment earned him a death glare.
“What? I know that’s what you’re thinking.” He scooted to the edge of the bed, downed the rest of the wine, and stood.
When he walked over to the closet, Brantley groaned as Jordan shifted through the hangers.
“No. No. No. Oh , this would look hot on you.” He turned around holding a bright fuchsia shirt up.
Not really what Brantley had in mind for this first… What the hell is this, anyway? Not a date. It was at Daniel’s mother’s house, for God’s sake.
He screwed his nose up and shook his head. “No. I think I want something a little more…subtle. We’re not meeting at club Boyz.”
“Okay. Have it your way, then.” Jordan snatched a black shirt from the hanger and a pair of shorts and threw them at him. “Black and casual always looks good on you, even though it’s a rare fucking occasion we ever see it. This shows him you’re cool, calm, and?—”
“Not freaking out?”
Jordan walked over to him and took his face between his hands. “Stop freaking out. You’re sexy. You were sexy back then, and you’re fucking sexy now. Don’t make me say it more than once. My own vanity won’t stand for it.”
“Please,” Brantley said as he looked over Jordan’s olive skin, full lips, and high cheekbones.
His Dutch and Mediterranean heritage kept his skin smooth and made him appear years younger than he actually was.
If he wasn’t such a kindhearted human being, he’d be easy to dislike—and envy.
“You get more ass now than when you arrived from good ole Wyoming.”
“That’s because I decided to embrace being feisty, rich, and irresistible. Once I did that, men couldn’t resist me. Now, go and get dressed. I’ll meet you there. I, too, got an invite from the lovely Mrs. Finley this afternoon.”
Of course he did.
Brantley took the clothes from his friend and stepped into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Maybe Jordan was right and he was worrying about nothing. Daniel knew who he was—he’d known all along the difference in their ages, and that had never stopped him in the past.
It had made him wary as hell, but it hadn’t once seemed to faze Daniel.
brANTLEY KEPT A discreet eye on the final student to leave for the morning as Mr. Finley strode down the stairs to the front of the classroom. They were three weeks into the semester and he was ashamed to admit that with every day that passed, his fascination with the young man grew.
At first, he’d tried to convince himself that it was purely academic. The kid was smart. He’d aced all the weekly quizzes, and Brantley was more than aware of the way he watched him lecture with keen, intelligent eyes that never strayed from him.
Oh, Brantley was fascinated, all right, but he made sure to tell himself at the end of every class that it had nothing to do with the mischievous grin Daniel would flash at his friends or the easygoing laugh that would bubble up out of him at any given moment.
But he knew he was lying. Daniel was quite possibly the happiest person he’d ever met, and his joy of life lit up the room and everyone in it. Including him.
When Daniel stopped in front of him and dropped his paper on the desk, Brantley acknowledged him with a glance before returning his gaze back to the notes he was going over.
“Any big plans this weekend, professor?”
The question had been so unexpected that he didn’t think to catch himself before he replied, “Nothing too big. Just going out with some friends. You?”
Daniel smiled at him as he shoved his arms through the loops of his backpack, and Brantley couldn’t help but look at his shirt as it stretched across his broad chest.
“I’m going to hit the beach. Such great waves right now.”
“Ahh, you like to surf. That explains it.”
When the side of Daniel’s mouth crooked up, the effect was charming as hell. The kid was a knockout.
“Explains what?”
Annoyed that he’d made such a stupid slip-up, Brantley looked back at the papers in front of him, hoping Daniel would get the message and leave. No such luck.
“Explains what?” Daniel asked again.
Brantley sighed and rested his arms on the desk as he studied Daniel’s inviting face. “It explains your hair.”
“My— Oh,” Daniel said, touching the ends of it. “Do you like it?”
Stunned by the direct question, Brantley sat back in his chair and fought the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Do I like your hair?”
“Yeah.”
“Does it matter?” Jesus, fuck. Stop it. Stop flirting with him.
But it was too late. Daniel put his hands on the desk and leaned forward. Brantley toed the ground, shoving his chair back.
“It could…”
“No. No, it couldn’t,” he said as he got to his feet, shaking his head.
Daniel straightened and tucked his thumbs into the straps of his backpack, no doubt to taunt him. His eyes were too knowing for someone his age, and when they held his longer than was acceptable, Brantley’s heart skipped a couple of beats.
“Was there something else, Mr. Finley?”
“You said you were going out with friends this weekend…”
Shit, did I? “Yes, that’s right.”
As Daniel ran his thumb down the left strap of his bag, Brantley admonished himself for noticing every little move he made. He needed to get a fucking hold of himself.
“Are any of them more than a friend?”
If he hadn’t been watching Daniel quite so closely, he wouldn’t have believed the words that had just come out of his mouth. But he had been. So he did.
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business. You better hurry or you’ll miss your next class.”
Satisfied that he’d firmly dismissed Daniel, Brantley sat down and made a show of focusing on the books lining his desk, and didn’t dare look and see if Daniel had left this time or not. Brantley wasn’t sure what he’d do if he was still standing there.
He reached up to adjust his tie, which suddenly felt a little too tight around his neck, and with each passing second that he was consciously not checking to see if he was alone, he swore that it was getting tighter.
“Professor Hayes?”
His head snapped up at his name, and when Daniel had his attention, he continued.
“Are you gay?”
Brantley’s eyes widened, and he wondered how his mouth hadn’t fallen open at the blunt question. “Excuse me?”
“I asked if you were ? —”
“I heard what you said. But I don’t see how that is any business of yours.
You should think before you speak, Mr. Finley.
I’m your teacher, and it’s time for you to leave.
This conversation is over.” He flipped open one of the books on his desk and shook his head.
He couldn’t believe the audacity of the kid—or the fact that he was so damn forthright.
As he sat there, grinding his teeth in an effort not to look at his student—who was still standing in front of his desk—a bead of sweat ran down his collar, and he cursed the fact that his nerves were getting the better of him.
“I only asked because, well, I am too. And I thought it would be nice to have someone to talk to.”