It's been over a decade since Court's mother and my father blew up our lives, and I've gotten over it.
Well…
I'm…mostly over it.
Because they didn't just turn two families' lives upside down, they also killed any chance Court and I had of becoming more than just friends.
I mean, I'm probably reading it wrong, but that's the fantasy that's lived in my head for the last thirteen or so years. Court had invited me to prom as his date. We both came out freshmanyear in high school and remained the only out gay guys until graduation.
We were making a statement.
In my head, though, I conjured up a fantasy about how our prom night would end. Starting with a kiss, slightly awkward and clumsy. Then he'd say something to break the tension. I'd laugh. He'd brush his fingers against my cheek and tell me I was cute all dressed up. I'd say he scrubbed up pretty good, too, and then we'd make out, all hot and heavy, and it would lead to me losing my virginity to my best friend, the guy I'm secretly in love with.
But before any of that got to happen—a week before to be exact—his mom and my dad broke the news they'd been having an affair.
The fallout was nothing short of horrific.
Mom kicked Dad out, and Court's father packed up and left Clovelly, taking Court with him. I lost him to his calling after that. First, his undergrad. Then four years at Harvard Med. Followed by a brutal OB/GYN residency. And now he's back from a six-month stint working with women in rural Africa.
For a few days.
At most.
Like always.
In hindsight, maybe our parents' cheating scandal worked out for the best. Not for our families, obviously, but for Courtland and me. He's too brilliant to be confined to one place, and I'm a small-town boy through and through. Chances are, we probably wouldn't have worked out as a couple anyway.
But a part of me will always wonder…
"Hey, dickhead." Ramzi snaps his fingers in front of my face, jolting me back to reality.
"What?"
He points to my shoe, his trademark cocky grin reappearing.
I look down.
Shit.
I’ve somehow managed to knot my finger into my shoelace.
4
Courtland
A three-car pileup on the highway meant that despite my awesome driving, I missed my grandfather's funeral. I pulled over to help, waited for the paramedics to arrive, lost track of time, and now I'm scrambling to find a parking spot near the community center for the collation, but it's packed.
Giving up, I park behind Old Man Hatfield's pickup, boxing him in, and dash inside. I enter, trembling from the cold. A familiar figure approaches. Heat pools in my belly, warming me up all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes, as Buzz gets closer.
He's got the same floppy brown hair he's always had and the same sparkling blue eyes, brimming with kindness. But this Buzz Lightyear is all grown up and one hundred percentman. Putting out fires clearly does a body good. His wide shoulders, massive biceps, and tree-trunk legs are making his navy suit work harder than it was designed to.
"Court," he rumbles in that sexy, deep voice, stretching his arms out. I melt into his strong body, the exhaustion of the journey and the jet lag finally catching up with me. He smells like soap with a faint trace of burned wood. "What happened?"
"There was an accident on Route 9."
"Shit. Is everyone okay?"
"Yeah. Just needed to apply pressure to an elderly passenger's head and keep him conscious until the paramedics showed up."
