Chapter -18- #3
“Because of you,” he admits.
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” His laugh is endearing, unlike Javi’s.
“When I heard Nora speak, I thought about when we first met. You were always so intensely yourself. You made me want to be the person I hid from others. All I thought about were the hundreds of Denzes in this world. They deserve a space where people care and fight for them. Where they can be themselves.” He pauses, eyes bright. “I thought about all the Braylons too.”
Denz lets out a quiet breath. He’s simultaneously weightless and grounded.
“I believe in what Nora’s doing,” Braylon says, beaming.
After listening to him, Denz does too.
Braylon’s expression shifts. “I can’t date anyone here. If I get this promotion, I’ll be in Los Angeles.”
“You’re moving? Again? ”
Braylon sighs as if he’s been holding on to this one detail for a reason. As if he’s been anticipating Denz’s reaction. “Nora’s expanding,” he explains. “There’s a new location in Santa Monica. I’d be helping with start-up.”
Denz is going to scream.
Braylon kept this from him. He never had any intention for their arrangement to go past early April. They had a deal. Braylon helps him and, in turn, Denz helps Braylon break his heart for the second time.
The kisses, the sex—it was meaningless. They had fun, got off. The end.
It’s the same thing Denz’s done with every guy since college. It’s what he’s always after: a clean break. No repeats. No attachments. No falling in love.
This was never about them reconnecting. Braylon is his past, not a future. Denz’s endgame is being the Carter everyone’s expected him to be since day one.
And that emptiness behind his ribs? The place Braylon’s not supposed to be anyway? He’ll fill it with something else.
He’s done that before too.
Five Years Ago
Senior Year—Spring Semester
“Minor crisis.” Bray stands, pressing a peck to Denz’s temple. “brB.”
Early February sunlight dusts the modest interior of One More Cup golden.
They don’t come here often. Usually, Denz will snag something from Jittery Joe’s or Starbucks on campus.
But neither coffee shop has the quiet, college-town normalcy of OMC.
Or the triple-chocolate scones Emmanuel inhales whenever he visits.
He’s across from Denz, savoring his extra-hot latte.
Bray is the perfect mix of his parents. His mom’s high cheekbones and rounded nose.
His dad’s chin dimple and wide, infectious smile.
In his eyes too, Emmanuel’s a shade lighter than his cool umber complexion, a rich contrast to his favorite pale blue button-down.
“That boy.” Emmanuel nods to the café corner where Bray’s pacing, phone to his ear. “Think it’s the swim team again?”
“Probably,” Denz agrees. “Lyle freaking out over his backstroke time. Keegan lost his earbuds. Again . Jake F. and Jake D. fighting over the same girl. Who’s hosting the next pizza night…”
“He’s always watching out for them.” Emmanuel shakes his head. “I can’t believe they didn’t name him captain this year.”
“Bray didn’t want it,” Denz mentions. “He doesn’t like that kind of attention.”
He smiles softly. He still has the video Nic sent him from New Year’s Eve—the one of half-drunk Bray, washed in multicolored spotlights, doing the Wobble in the middle of all the guests. Denz is saving it for future blackmail.
“He’d rather be the heart than the brain,” Emmanuel says. He chuckles. “Got that from his mother.”
Denz’s lips curve higher.
“He’ll grow out of it,” Emmanuel notes. “After graduation. You’ll see.”
Fuck, Denz hopes not. He loves this Bray. Thoughtful and observant and wanting nothing to do with being the focus of every room he walks in. Serenely confident when it’s just the two of them. He can’t imagine a different version.
“Life changes a lot of things once you’re on your own,” Emmanuel tells him.
Denz tears at his flaky croissant. “I guess.”
“What about you?”
“Um, me?”
Emmanuel laughs fondly. “Yes. What are your plans?” He dips a piece of scone into his mug. “Graduation will be here sooner than you think. Are you thinking about the future?”
Denz has. But maybe not in the way Emmanuel’s asking.
Some mornings, while Bray snores beside him in bed, Denz scrolls through his phone. He studies apartments near Atlanta. He’s not thinking about proposing —though Nic’s been messaging him ideas like a possessed Cupid—but a future.
A next step for him and Bray.
Can he tell Emmanuel that? They’ve long passed the awkwardness of their first meeting, though Denz habitually moves his latte to a safe corner of the table any time they come here, just in case.
He feels a familiar comfort with Emmanuel now.
Too many virtual Scrabble nights and long conversations over coffee like this one.
During the school year, he sees more of Emmanuel than his own family.
But is this the right time? Before he’s even talked to Bray?
Denz tears another section of croissant. “I don’t know.”
“There must be a million opportunities for you. You could get a job anywhere.” Emmanuel eyes him. “Where would you go?”
A beat. Denz shrugs. “Atlanta.”
“Atlanta?”
“Thing is—” Denz looks away from Emmanuel’s heavy, skeptical stare. “—my whole family’s there. Which, you know already. But, like. I’m so close to my sisters. And my nephew’s barely two. I don’t want to miss anything that happens in their lives.”
“What about creating your own life?”
“I can do that. There.” Denz is sweating. In February. Is this an interrogation? Is this what Bray felt like? “Atlanta’s great. The weather’s nice too.”
“The weather’s nice a lot of places, Denz.”
“Yeah, but…” Denz rips another soft layer of flaky dough. “It’s home.”
Emmanuel’s mouth twists into a frown. “What if that’s not where Bray wants to be?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Denz blinks, confused. Bray loves his dad. It’s been just the two of them since Elyse died. “You’re there. He’d never leave you.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Emmanuel says, smiling sadly, “I’d hate for him to leave. But I wouldn’t discourage him. I want the best for my son. Like my parents wanted for me when they came to America. To make sure I got all the best chances at a great life.”
“I want that too.”
Emmanuel rests a hand on his. “I know. You love him.”
A smile tries to inch up Denz’s mouth.
“And I want the best for you too,” Emmanuel says, leaning back. “Which is why I wanted to know your plans.”
Currently: he’s trying to survive his stupid Communication Strategies in Social Movements course, remember to throw away that expired pizza in his fridge, and avoid the impending diarrhea from this conversation.
“I’m working on them.”
Emmanuel nods thoughtfully. “Do me a favor: consider all your options.”
Denz stares down at the shredded remains of his croissant.
“I will,” he says, distractedly reaching for a napkin to clean up his mess. Which of course means his hand bumps into his iced latte. The cup teeters, wobbles, two seconds from ruining his only clean pair of joggers.
“Whoa!”
Bray’s quick reflexes prevent Spillgate 2.0 from happening. He straightens the cup, then flops back into his seat. “Sorry. Drama solved. What’d I miss?”
Denz shares a cautious stare with Emmanuel. “Nothing,” he whispers.
“Cool.” Bray tosses an arm around Denz’s tight shoulders, hauling him closer. “Oh, Dad, did I tell you? Denz has been studying his word lists. He might finally beat you on our next Scrabble night.”
“Is that so? Planning for the future, Denz?”
Denz looks up sheepishly. He bites his lip, nodding.
“Wonderful.” Emmanuel’s next smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can’t wait.”