Chapter Eight
Maurice
After dinner, Maurice and David split off to their cabins to shower and change.
Maurice lingered in front of the mirror longer than he needed to, smoothing his hair, hunting down any strand daring to fall out of place—as if Finn might notice the difference.
He swapped his suit for dark jeans and a fitted black shirt, something that didn’t say “courtroom” so much as “maybe someone will actually look at me tonight,” a thought he pretended wasn’t aimed at one blond boy in particular.
Maurice met David back in the hallway, both smelling faintly of soap and cologne, and headed toward the Meet-a-Daddy Party.
The moment they stepped inside the Party Car, Maurice took in the decorations.
The entire car had been transformed with strings of warm Edison bulbs zig-zagged overhead, casting a soft amber glow over everything.
Pride-colored paper lanterns hung between them, swaying gently with the movement of the train.
Each table had a little LED candle flickering in the center, giving the whole place a cozy vibe.
Someone had even chalk-drawn little hearts and arrows on the blackboard near the front, where the directions were written in looping handwriting.
A volunteer sat at a small table handing out name bands. Black rubber ones were for daddies and the red ones for boys. Maurice and David both slipped on black ones. The band snapped lightly against Maurice’s wrist, a tiny reminder he was supposed to be confident tonight, even if he didn’t feel it.
Refreshments were set up near the window: an enormous glass bowl of punch, stacks of cups, and a tray of rainbow-color cookies shaped like little trains. No alcohol in this car, which made sense. The vibe was more “structured mingling” than “chaotic Pride bar.”
Maurice entered the room already pulled toward one possibility: Finn, the pretty blond he hadn’t shaken since the Welcome Car.
Minutes later, Finn surfaced from the crowd as if answering a thought.
Finn stood with Mr. Santos, the engineer and director they’d met earlier, deep in conversation.
And not just casual conversation — Finn looked serious, hands clasped in front of him, shoulders slightly hunched.
Mr. Santos had that stern, listening expression he used when someone had messed up.
Maurice’s stomach twisted.
Great. What did he do now? Did he break another rule? Is he getting kicked off the train?
He didn’t even realize he’d started moving toward them until he was halfway across the room.
He just knew he needed to get to Finn first—to check on him, to make sure he wasn’t spiraling, to…
something. He wasn’t ready to admit what that something was.
But before he could reach them, Mr. Santos lifted a microphone.
“Alright, everyone, welcome to your first swap. Your numbers are on the board; go to your assigned table. You’ve got fifteen minutes to get curious, get flirty, and get to know the man in front of you. Warm-up question first —then dive deeper.”
Maurice froze mid-step.
The boys and daddies drifted between tables, laughing, flirting, adjusting their name tags. It should’ve been playful. It should’ve been easy.
But then Finn looked up. Their eyes met for the briefest second—Finn’s wide and bright, like he hadn’t expected Maurice to be standing there at all. Something flickered across his face, something almost angelic.
Then Gage, another blond man Maurice met earlier, stepped up beside Finn and said something that made Finn laugh.
Maurice felt that laugh like a punch to the ribs.
Of course he’s with someone. Of course he’s smiling at someone else. Why wouldn’t he be?
David nudged him gently. “Good luck.”
Maurice forced his feet to move, even though his chest felt tight, like someone had cinched a belt around it.
Maurice reached Table One, his assigned table, and found a boy with thick green glasses already seated. That had to be Theo, the one David had been eyeing earlier. Maurice sat down across from him, trying to shake off the sting still buzzing under his ribs.
“I’m Maurice Dubois, a friend of David’s,” he said.
“I know.” Theo smiled, bright and open. “I’m Theo Bukoski from Philadelphia.”
“Pick a card, Theo. Then ask me a question.” Maurice gestured to the deck in the center.
Theo plucked one up, but Maurice could tell he already had a question in mind. “How did you meet David?”
Maurice’s shoulders loosened a little. “We met at the University of Virginia. We were roommates the entire time we were there and when we went to law school.”
Maurice pulled a card of his own but asked what he actually wanted to know. “Do you live alone?”
“No. I have three male roommates. I’m working in a library until I finish school.”
“Pick another card,” Maurice said, though his mind drifted for a moment, imagining Theo in Charlottesville with David. A comforting thought, even if unrealistic.
Theo picked another card, then raised a brow. “Were you two ever a thing?”
Maurice laughed. “That’s not on the card.”
Theo grinned, unbothered.
“No,” Maurice said, shaking his head. “We’re best friends. More like brothers. But never beyond brothers. Never.”
Even as he said it, his eyes drifted toward Finn. Finn was sitting at Table Two with Gage still talking to him, still smiling at him, still not looking his way. Maurice adjusted his shirt, that same strange clench he didn’t want to name.
Maurice cleared his throat. “I have a question for you. Do you like David?”
“Yes. A lot. Do you approve?”
“That depends.” Maurice leaned back, studying him. “You know David lives and works in Charlottesville and you live in Philadelphia. How would you make that work?”
Theo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he traced the rim of his punch glass, thinking, not stalling, but choosing his words with care. When he finally spoke, his voice had a quiet steadiness to it.
“Well…” He gave a small, almost shy smile.
“Last month I rearranged my entire class schedule just so I could help a friend train for his librarian certification exam. Three weeks of flashcards and late-night coffee runs.” He shrugged lightly.
“When I care about someone, I show up. Even when it’s inconvenient. ”
Maurice felt the weight of his words, not a promise, but a pattern.
Theo leaned forward a little, eyes bright with curiosity. “Does David always get that serious look when he’s thinking? The one where he presses his lips together like he’s solving a murder case?”
Maurice laughed. “Yes. Constantly.”
“And does he always talk with his hands when he’s excited? He did that earlier when he was telling me about his job.”
“He does,” Maurice said, warmth creeping into his voice.
Theo nodded, satisfied—like he was collecting pieces of David, not planning a future but wanting to understand the man behind the smile.
“I enjoy knowing how someone moves through the world,” Theo whispered. “Especially someone like him.”
Maurice didn’t miss the subtext. Theo wasn’t promising cross-state devotion. He was showing who he already was—someone who paid attention, someone who invested, and someone who didn’t scare easily.
And that, Maurice realized mattered more than any declaration. Maurice nodded slowly. “I hope it works out because you’re his type, and I can see him with you.”
Theo’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“I like you, Theo. I know I don’t know enough about you yet, but I have a good feeling about you two.”
“Thanks,” Theo whispered.
Before Maurice could say more, Mr. Santos’s voice boomed through the mic. “Time is over. Remember, if you want to connect again, give your token to the person. You have three tokens. Boys, switch.”
Maurice’s gaze shot to the board. Finn was number five. He was headed to Table Three next, to Caleb. Not Maurice’s table.
What if he never comes to Table One?
But before Finn went to his new table, he took the long way around the room. Purposeful. Slow. And then he stopped right at Maurice’s table.
Finn held out a token.
“I want to see you too,” Maurice said, voice low without hesitation. He handed Finn all three of his tokens.
Finn cupped them in his palm, grinned, and blew Maurice a kiss before moving on to Table Three.
Shortly after, a young guy with soft brown hair and big brown eyes plopped into the seat across from him. He had that restless, puppy-ish energy—legs bouncing, fingers tapping, smile too quick and too wide.
“Hi,” Maurice said, offering a warm smile. “I’m Maurice Dubois from Charlottesville.”
“Hey! I’m Sammy Garcia. From Long Island.
” Sammy leaned forward immediately, forearms on the table, like he wanted to close the distance.
“I’m workin’ on the Pride Train thing, but they gave me, like, a break.
So I’m here. Lucky, right?” His knee brushed Maurice’s under the table—light, maybe accidental, maybe not.
Maurice laughed. “That’s great. Go ahead and take a card and ask me a question.”
Sammy reached for the deck, but instead of grabbing a card, he let his fingers graze the back of Maurice’s hand—quick, testing. “Uh… can I ask somethin’ that’s not on the cards? It’s kinda fun.”
Maurice raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Go ahead.”
Sammy scooted closer, their knees touching again. “Did you ever have a guy call you Daddy Maurice or Daddy Dubois?” He asked with a grin that was half-mischief, half-challenge, watching Maurice’s face like he wanted to catch every flicker.
Maurice laughed. “Interesting question. I had one young man call me Daddy Maurice.” He picked up a card before Sammy could push the line further. “I’ll ask you something from the deck.”
“Okay,” Sammy said, but his foot nudged Maurice’s under the table, playful and deliberate.
“Name three traits you want your ideal daddy to have.”
Sammy scrunched his face, thinking hard.
“Um… he should, like, know what he’s doin’.
Be good at leadin’ me. And help me figure stuff out ’cause I’m not always great at that.
” He shrugged, then added with a shy-flirty grin, “And he should be real cuddly. Like, hugs and stuff. A lot. I like that.” As he said it, he brushed Maurice’s wrist with his fingertips, like he was demonstrating.
Maurice’s voice softened. “I think a daddy should be affectionate. And make sure his boy knows he’s the most important person in his life. And yes—a good daddy would help his boy with important decisions.”
Sammy nodded quickly, eyes warm. “Yeah… you sound like you’d be good at that.” His hand lingered on Maurice’s forearm a second too long before he pulled back.
Maurice felt the compliment and the touch land, but his gaze drifted, just for a heartbeat, toward Table Three.
Finn sat across from Caleb, the tall, broad-shouldered ginger with the matching beard. Finn wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t flirting. He looked… serious. Focused. Maybe even uncomfortable. It was the first time Maurice had seen Finn not lighting up a room.
A small twist tightened in his chest. What had Caleb said? And why did Maurice hope—ridiculously—that Finn was thinking about him instead?
A light tap on his arm pulled him back. “You okay?” Sammy asked, fingers still resting there, gentle. “You zoned out. Thought maybe you were thinkin’ about me.” He said it with a teasing cadence, but his eyes were hopeful.
Maurice smiled. “Yeah. Just… taking in the room.”
Sammy grinned, leaning in again, shoulder brushing Maurice’s. “Looks like you got somebody special on your mind.”
Maurice didn’t deny it. “Maybe. Do you have someone you’ve been checking out?”
“I liked Finn,” Sammy said. “But he’s not a daddy.” He shrugged, then shot Maurice a playful look. “So, I’m lookin’ at all the daddies.” His foot nudged Maurice’s again, unmistakably this time.
Before Maurice could respond, Mr. Santos announced, “Time is up. Instead of switching, you have a twenty-minute break for refreshments and talking to each other.”