Chapter Twenty-Seven #5
“Well, never say never,” Brent said, flicking my chin with his thumb and forefinger.
“I’d be a thousand percent supportive of you if you followed your passion with writing, whether it’s finding another publisher or getting you money to do your books independently.
I’d be down to pay for your book con events or whatever you need. I got you.”
“You’re too kind, and I appreciate your offer.
” I’d never had a romantic partner voice interest in my novels or writing career.
Brent showing support at the moment meant something.
“My ex, Antoine, resented the Renny Ross author part of my life. I mean resented it, even though that’s how we first met, with me in my element as an author.
Granted, he was doing room setups and audio-visual equipment at a book conference.
But that’s a story you don’t need to hear now. ”
I exhaled, and my heartbeat increased with me thinking about what I was now free from.
“It’s over.” Brent pulled me closer, and I put my head on his shoulder. He felt safe. “I’m here.”
“Sorry to yuck the yum,” I said with a chuckle. “We’re supposed to be closing out Juneteenth on a high note.”
“Breathe. Relax. Let it all out. I’m here for you.”
He caressed the side of my face and looked down at me on his shoulder.
Our eyes locked on each other. The words of President Weatherspoon and Dr. James, about not letting more time pass us by and not having regrets in another twenty years, came to my mind.
Brent was all right. What was I waiting for?
“If I kissed you, you won’t have a list of great expectations or read much into it, would you?”
“I’ve been wanting to kiss you all day, Renny. All week, since you’ve been here, in fact.”
“No promises? No demands?”
“None. I’m okay taking things day by day. However slow you want.”
“Good.” I grabbed Brent’s hand, still on the side of my face, and pulled him close. As I lowered my eyes and then raised them again, I could see the potency and passion in his. “Then kiss me, Brent.”
He leaned down toward me, and my lips melted softly into his.
He caressed my face, beckoning me closer as our lips parted, and for what seemed like minutes, the tips of our tongues explored the terrain of our mouths, accompanied by low moans and warm, heavier breathing, passion that lingered for decades between us.
In sync, we pulled away, opened our eyes, and smiled at each other. Brent wiped a corner of his eye where, once again, a tear had formed after kissing me.
“Man, your kisses still get me excited like the first time back in your dorm room.”
“Oh, do they?” I smiled and planted another small peck on his lips. Then I lowered my voice and my eyes on his, trying to give sultry. “Do they?”
“As if you can’t see. Such a scandalous man you are, Renny.”
I looked down at Brent’s short shorts rising up on his thighs and could see hard evidence of the truth of his words. During our kissing, his dick had grown to extend almost to his hip. The effect I had on this man.
“Maybe we should see what’s in your gift bag, then, Brent,” I said, changing the subject. “I think you need a distraction.”
“I think I need more than that.” Brent grabbed his gift bag, which was nearby and with similar packaging and presentation as mine. He covered his lap and erection with it and untied the ribbon holding the handles together.
Brent reached inside and pulled out an unsealed envelope. In it were two courtside tickets to the Golden State Valkyries’ Pride Celebration game. With a smile on his face, Brent said, “With the divorce, I lost access to the DuPree family suite at Chase Center. These seats are even better.”
“Nice,” I said. “But what’s a Val…? I won’t even try to pronounce it.”
“Valkyries. The Bay Area’s WNBA team. The name is some sort of Norse mythology, something something. A few of my former students play and work for them.”
“Excellent. When are the tickets for?”
“In a few days,” Brent said. “Wanna be my date?”
“Of course,” I said, kissing his cheek. “You know I love me some basketball.”
“You love you some basketball players, you scandalous man you.”
“Anyway, what else is in the bag?”
“Hmm, looks like some sapphic romance novels,” Brent said, holding up two of the books. “You heard of Karmen Lee or Meka James?”
“Sure have.” I reached out for the books, both of them sports-related romances. One focused on high school bowling coaches, and the other was about love between a WNBA player and the team’s athletics trainer. “Looks like you’ve got some new possibilities for the athletics teams book club.”
“Nice,” he said and set the books aside.
He reached inside the bag one more time and pulled out a plastic baggie of wooden chips with various bar names on them.
“The little gift tag says, ‘Have a few happy 4 to 7 p.m. hour drinks on us in the Castro.’ Oh wow, and a certificate to Rikki’s, the women’s sports bar in Castro.
How cute. I haven’t been to any of the gay bars over there yet, but we can go grab you a few drinks one day. ”
Brent and I set our bags aside and stared at each other. “So, it’s getting close to bedtime,” I said “It’s definitely past midnight for me.” I yawned, not out of boredom with Brent, but because of the long day and the time difference, still impacting my adjustment to San Francisco.
I could tell Brent wanted to stall the night’s end, like I did, and he said, “So what was the best part of the day for you?”
“Everything. Being with you at Taylor’s and Dustin’s.”
“Thank you.”
“The food was spectacular. I can’t wait to dig into the leftovers tomorrow.”
“After we get in a workout and run. And I have a doctor’s and dentist’s appointment, despite the long holiday weekend. You can come with me.”
“Sure.”
“What else, Renny?” He reached out for one of my hands and we interlocked fingers.
“I loved the Juneteenth gift bags. We’ve got a few dates we can set up from these gifts alone.”
“Oh, you wanna go out with an old man like me?”
“You wanna go out with an old has-been mess like me?”
“Renny, you ‘has-been’ my favorite guy for over twenty years.”
We laughed and stared at each other.
“Day by day, Brent. Remember?”
“Whatever you say. Like I’ve been saying, I want to spend the rest of our time together making up for the time we lost with each other.
I want you to feel my remorse. I want you to believe every effort I do to make amends.
I will come to you on bended knee every day that you’ll let me until you’re convinced we belong together. ”
I put my free hand up to his face, caressing his cheek.
“Look at me. You don’t have to beg. But I look forward to being convinced. Now, come here and kiss me again.”
This time, we united with open-mouthed kisses, roaming hands, desire growing, and heat rising from within and between us.
I wanted to be with Brent again, romantically and sexually, and we easily could have connected that way right then.
Still, if we were going to try a relationship this second time around as Brent and Renny and not as B.D.
and Larenz the horny college kids, I wanted to make sure everything felt and went right. I pulled back slowly.
“What’s up, Renny? Did I do something wrong?”
“You’re doing everything right,” I said, running my hands along his balding head and full beard, a mature mix of salt and pepper. “You’re so gorgeous, Brent, in case no one’s told you lately.”
“So are you.”
“I think you’re even more fine than you were in college. The thinning hairline. The smile and laugh lines. The grays in your beard. That’s a man, Maury.”
Brent laughed at my joke. “Same about you, Renny. I find you just as attractive as I did in college. And if we don’t quit complimenting each other, we might end up doing something like we used to do in college, and I’m trying to respect your boundaries.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Wanna show me some appreciation?”
“Boundaries, Brent.” I got up to retrieve the small bag Brent had given me the first morning in his place.
I sat at the foot of the bed with him. “So let me tell you the best and my most favorite part of the week. I appreciate you gifting me these autographed Beverly Jenkins novels. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t want this night to end either,” I said as I looked into Brent’s eyes. “So how about this? If you’re cool with staying in the guest room with me, we could spoon and start reading one of the books together. Until we fall asleep, which might be sooner than later for me.”
“Sounds good to me, Renny. Whatever, whenever, and however you want. I won’t rush you, me, us.”
I clipped one of my portable book lights to the headboard.
Within minutes, we were under the duvet, Brent’s bare chest against my back, one of his legs sprawled over my hip, biceps wrapped around one of my shoulders.
We held the pages of the book together, and embraced, as we read, out loud, the prologue and a few pages of chapter one in Beverly Jenkins’s Destiny’s Embrace before drifting off to a well-deserved night of sleep.