EPILOGUE
STEFAN
FOUR YEARS LATER
“You’re going to be the big man on campus,” I tell Rudy in the backseat as the truck rumbles down the highway. “No one’s gonna mess with you.”
He smirks and looks over at Ryan, who just shrugs and tries not to laugh. Ryan, sweet as he is, didn’t want Rudy sitting back there by himself, especially since we banned the parents from helping today due to Mom’s incessant crying about her baby leaving the nest. I see them through the rearview. Boy, they’ve gotten awful chummy over the years.
“The hell you two snickering about back there?” I call out.
“Oh, nothing … Dad,” mumbles Rudy, inspiring a hearty laugh from Ryan, who then promptly slaps a hand over his mouth to shut himself up.
I roll my eyes and shake my head, a smile breaking over my face. “I only hover because I care about you. You know that, and yet still you make fun of your big brother. Just be glad it isn’t Mom and Dad moving you into your dorm. Then you’d get tears and blubbering.” I lift my eyes to the rearview to meet his. “You aren’t getting any tears from me.”
Rudy snorts, then scratches his mouth to mask the fact that he’s trying not to laugh. His long hair—twice as shaggy as it was four years ago—blows around and dances in the air rushing in through the rolled down windows of the truck.
I meet Ryan’s eyes next. He gives me a knowing look, then winks my way. I flash my teeth and wink back, inspiring a bit of blush to creep over his cheeks. Still got it.
He’s just excited because after we get Rudy all set up in his dorm, we’re going out to celebrate the third year of my business taking off. Homerun Houses. I guess the first try was the charm as far as names were concerned. The little bit of clout I still clung to from being a former minor league player actually connected me to a local big wig, who needed his kitchen gutted and redone for his wife. Homerun Houses gave him the best damned kitchen he’s ever seen, and just from the explosion of praise and connections I made after that fortuitous happenstance, my business was put on the map. I’ve gotten so many new clients ever since that I’ve had to hire a whole crew of men and women to assist me in all the work.
Of course, we’re going to celebrate in the best way we know how: dinner at a favorite restaurant of ours followed by banging sex that’s guaranteed to make our heads pop off.
I might have to renovate our bedroom to be soundproof.
Seriously. With our nosy neighbors, it’s a wonder they haven’t called in a noise complaint to the police.
I’m saying that some nights, it’s the goddamned Lion King in our bedroom. The roof shakes and walls tremble. Just how we like it.
“We’re here,” I call out to the backseat, spotting the tall, wide buildings of the campus as we draw closer and closer.
Rudy’s face says it all as his eyes stretch open and he stares up at the buildings, probably wondering which window is his. All of the awe and wonder of what awaits him these next four years is reflected in the sparkle of his eyes. It’s like he’s itching already to get out of the truck and start his adult life.
Here I am at the steering wheel, begging him to slow down. I really do sound like a father, desperate for his son to stop growing up so fast and racing through life. Before he knows it, he’ll be in a cap and gown holding a shiny diploma of whatever major he finally settles on.
I pull into the parking lot and have to slowly wade my truck through a battlefield of bodies until I find a spot. Of course, it’s all the way in the back.
Once the engine is shut off and we’re piling out of the truck, I give a look toward the distant buildings and squint against the hot and unforgiving sunlight. “Which way is registration?”
“That way.” Rudy nods his head toward the buildings. “I know which one it is. I’ll run ahead, check in, and get my dorm key.”
“We’ll be right behind you,” I tell him, but only get half the words out before he’s already vanished halfway across the parking lot. Maybe he should have stuck with baseball; that kid can run.
Ryan slings an arm over my shoulder. “Does it kinda feel like we’re sending our kid off to school? Or … is it just me?”
“It’s just you,” I lie, still trying to spot my brother somewhere in the crowd.
Ryan chuckles, knowing me too well. “You kinda have a ton of kids, now, considering all the ones on your baseball team down at the LGBT center. Hey, what name did you all settle on for your fall team, by the way? The Butt Bunters or the Queer Bat-Crackers?”
I snort. “I think Rainbow Runners was the top contender.”
Ryan shakes his head. “Who could have ever guessed that big scary Stefan Baker would be one day coaching a team called the Rainbow Runners?”
“Hey, don’t let the name fool you. Those fuckers are mean.”
“Oh?”
“They’d catch a hundred hits, crack bats in half, and outrun your ass any day.”
Ryan turns my face toward him and plants a kiss right on my lips. “With you as their coach, I don’t doubt that one damn bit. You don’t settle for nothing when it comes to winning.”
“Nor when it comes to picking boyfriends.” I open my mouth to his for a kiss twice as deep as the one he just gave me.
Yeah. Boyfriends. I said it—and proudly. I’ve come a long way from bromos and homos and buddies-I-do-stuff-with. Ryan is the guy I’m sticking with, and I couldn’t be happier.
Except for that peculiar way that he kept looking at me in the rearview mirror during our drive to campus. And the way he’d whisper something to Rudy—like they had some string of inside jokes between them—and then the two of them would snicker.
Something’s going on. I’m fairly certain of it. But I’m also not going to let on that I suspect anything. After we get Rudy settled in, Ryan’s all mine. And I’ll get it out of him one way or another.
RYAN
So the elevators are broken down.
All of them.
No, that’s okay. I totally wanted to spend today—this special, important day—scaling dozens of steps in the sweltering summer heat lugging boxes, a backpack, and two duffel bags full of clothes.
Sixteen floors, by the way.
And I’m not alone, either. I’m bumping shoulders with dozens of other students moving in with Rudy. Their parents and families, too. On my way up—somewhere around the eleventh or twelfth floor—my face gets unexpectedly intimate with a dude’s sweaty armpit as he lugs a flat screen over his head.
He wears Old Spice deodorant, by the way.
Not even Rudy’s first day yet and I’m the one learning things.
When we get to his room—1616—we stand at the doorway and stare at the two beds, two desks, and two tiny windows. The beds are so close, I’m pretty sure Rudy could roll over and smack his roommate’s cheek. The desks are squished right against each other, making sure that neither Rudy nor his roommate can hide any porn on their screens between study sessions.
“Well, at least you and your roommate will be cozy,” points out Stefan. “It’ll be great.”
“Assuming you like your roommate,” I throw in.
He’s going to have fun. No, really, he will. This is great.
Despite my doubts, though, Rudy looks excited as he drags in his bags and starts unpacking. Stefan and I share a look, then shrug and join him in getting his things sorted. Inwardly fighting off the inevitable eclipse of claustrophobic freak-out, we get to unpacking all of Rudy’s things into the closet. Sorry, not closet; cubbyhole. These students get a cubbyhole. It’s adorable. It can fit approximately three small outfits and maybe half a pair of underwear. Just a half, though. Let’s not get carried away.
And Rudy can just forget having anywhere to store his socks. Who needs them anyway?
Suddenly, I’m struck by memories of my first day moving into a dorm. The fear of who my roommate would be terrified me the worst. I had hoped my roommate was sweet. And hopefully quiet. And studied. Like, a lot. I remember thinking that I wouldn’t have minded a total nerd. Please, please, please give me one. I was a nerd, pretty much. We would have clicked perfectly. I had bet he’d even like to read sci-fi/fantasy. Maybe his name would be Martin. Or Kaleb with a “K”.
Rudy doesn’t seem to have any of those fears.
Or he’s just as good at masking his feelings as Stefan is.
Sitting on Rudy’s mystery-roommate’s bed, I look up at Stefan still unpacking a box of books and find his eyes glazed over in a similar way to mine. I wonder if he’s thinking the same things as me, reflecting on his college days.
That was a time of our life that we didn’t share. It hurts a bit, to think of that. I don’t want to spend another part of my life not sharing everything together.
I love Stefan Baker with all my heart.
And tonight, I’m going to make it permanent.
Two dudes tackle each other in front of the open door, which draws all our attention to them. They laugh, slam against the wall, then run off while calling each other names, their heavy feet causing the floor to shake as they bound away.
“Close call,” I murmur. “You almost had a guy with elephant-stampede feet for a roommate.”
“Here we are!” says a sweet mother who appears suddenly at the door.
Stefan straightens up and I rise off the bed while Rudy turns to face his new roommate. A totally boring young guy stands at his mother’s side. I’ve never been more happy for Rudy than to see someone as boring as this John Doe is, who’ll totally not be a problem for a roommate. This poor dork has parted blond hair, a green t-shirt, and a—
“Oh, wait, no,” chirps his mother. “You’re in 1618. Two doors down this way. Sorry.” She puts a hand on her son’s back and guides him away.
Rudy sighs.
This anticipation is killing me, too.
Before long, we have everything of Rudy’s unpacked, and we’re sitting around his room waiting for nothing in particular. The noise of other families moving in echoes through the hall, the footsteps of people carrying heavy things shaking the room.
“You guys don’t have to stay,” Rudy tells us. “I’ll be fine, no matter who my roommate is.”
“Maybe he’ll be half as cool as you, if he’s lucky,” teases Stefan as he ruffs up his brother’s hair—much to his annoyance.
“Not everyone can have a best buddy as close as you two,” says Rudy, his eyes shifting between us. “You two are lucky to have found each other. You especially, Stefan,” he adds with a smirk at his brother. “Ryan makes you a better person. I don’t even remember the last time you got drunk.”
“Christmas Eve party two years ago,” Stefan recites. “But that was because of Ryan’s ‘special adults-only eggnog’ he insisted on bringing.”
I laugh at the memory. “I think I was a little heavy-handed on the alcohol.”
The pair of us smile at one another across the room—which is really just a few feet apart, considering the cramped size of it. Rudy’s words, which couldn’t have been better timed, are clearly resonating with Stefan, considering the deep, misty-eyed way in which he’s looking at me right now.
I’m so fucking in love with that man.
After giving Rudy our goodbyes and wishing him luck, we slowly make our way back down the sixteen flights of stairs. The sun breaks over our faces like hot yolk from a cracked-open egg as we push across the courtyard toward the parking lot. My back is sticky from sweat just from the short walk.
“What’re you acting all weird for?” asks Stefan on the long drive back to Newmont.
“I’m not acting weird. I’m just … thinking about time and … college days …”
“And how crazy different it would have been if we attended together?” finishes Stefan for me.
I smile appreciatively. “I was wondering if you thought it.”
“It’s all I was thinking about, unpacking Rudy’s shit.”
“What would you have done if I had been your roommate?”
Stefan’s face scrunches up. “The hell do you mean? I’d have been ecstatic. I’d have lucked out and felt like I could conquer the world with you as my ol’ roomie.”
“But what if we didn’t know each other yet?” I posit. “What if we just met for the first time as eighteen-year-olds without our history in Little League or high school baseball. Would you have seen me as a total dork?”
“Would you have seen me as ‘just another dumb jock’?”
“Shit, you’re never going to let me live that down.”
“Never,” he teases, then slaps my thigh. “Even if we didn’t know each other, I would’ve given you a chance. I would’ve had a buddy to go eat meals with, to commiserate over classes with, to cheer me on during all my … during all my games.” Stefan sighs suddenly, his face sagging. “Shit. I still think about that day and feel so much pain for letting you just … walk away like that.”
“Me too, Stefan. All the time.” I take his spare hand with mine, his other hanging atop the steering wheel as he drives, and lace my fingers with his. “I’m not gonna miss another moment of your life.”
Stefan takes his eyes off the road for a second to shoot me a little look, then blows me a kiss and says, “Me neither, babe.”
Babe.
That’s a recent development. The “babe” thing.
Not that I mind.
When we’re back home, changed into something nice, and about to head out to dinner to celebrate three years with Homerun Houses, I find myself hovering by the door with my heart racing its way up into my throat.
All of Stefan’s words are thumping in my ears like big hearts. I can’t think straight. I can’t wait a second longer.
I have to do it now.
“Stefan.”
He stops with his hand on the doorknob, turning back to face me. “Yeah, babe?”
I had this whole thing planned at the restaurant where I’d enlist the help of the server, plant something in his dessert, and get the pianist they always have on Fridays to play a song for us. All of those plans vanish. I don’t need an audience to witness this thing between us move on to its next natural step. Our love began in a secret, precious place that only the two of us knew.
“Come here,” I tell him.
Stefan lets go of the door, his face tight with concern. He comes up to me, his gaze meeting mine with worry. “What’s going on, Ryan? Tell me.”
“I don’t want to miss another moment of your life.”
“I know. We said that on the ride home.”
“But I mean it.” I reach back into my pocket and fumble to free the box. “I mean it, and I want to prove that I mean it.”
“Ryan …? What do you mean?”
The box comes out, and I clutch it with both my hands in front of me. Stefan’s eyes lower to it, confused.
Realization dawns in his blue, slowly widening eyes.
“R-Ryan …”
I drop to one knee.
“Holy shit.”
“Stefan,” I begin. “I … I know that we’re about to go out to celebrate three years with your company, but we’re also quickly approaching our four year anniversary of having reunited. That means we’ve known each other for fifteen years, Stefan.”
He looks completely shaken up. He wasn’t expecting this, not at all. Stefan, the man who’s taken a stoic gene or two from his deadpan dad, is about to shatter into a confetti storm of tears.
“I want to know you for fifteen more,” I tell him, peering up into his eyes. “And then fifteen more after that. And then fifteen more. On and on. Until the day I die.”
“Ryan Caulfield. Fuck. Ryan.” His voice is shaking. Tears fill his pretty blue eyes.
I pop the box open and lift it up to him, my hand trembling as I present the ring.
“Stefan Baker,” I recite just like the one hundred and forty-six times I practiced it in the mirror this morning and last night, “will you be my bromo for life, now and always?”
Tears dislodge from his eyes. “Fuck yeah, I will,” he answers.
I pull out the ring, toss the box behind me, then slip it on his finger. It’s a perfect fucking fit.
“Dude.” Stefan is the one trembling now as he stares down at the twisted band of gold that now enwraps his ring finger. “Is this real? Did this really fucking happen?”
“Yeah. I said it before, and I mean it, Stefan. I want you on my team. Only you. Forever and ever. Always.”
Tears spill down his face as he starts to giggle with hysterics, overwhelmed with happiness. His shiny, wet blue eyes meet mine for a brief second before he thrusts himself at my face to kiss me. I wrap my arms around him and clasp my lips to his.
Stefan Baker, my fiancé.
Holy shit. I can say that now.
The kiss ends and then he holds me against him in a tight, bone-crunching embrace.
“Rudy knew,” whispers Stefan into my ear as he holds me.
I bite my lip to fight off a grin, then finally concede and nod. “Who the hell else do you think gave me the pep talk before I went and did all of this?”
“That little shit said nothing.” Stefan chuckles, his voice still shaking with emotion. “Guess it just speaks to his character. He’s an honest kid.”
“Not really a kid anymore,” I point out.
Then he pulls away to get a long look at my face, his wet eyes sparkling as he gazes on me.
Somewhere in his eyes, I see the fourteen-year-old who sat on me in that bathroom long ago. He was an honest kid, too. He knew what I was and still wanted to be my friend. How could we have possibly predicted back then where we would end up?
In each other’s arms, that’s where.
A fourteen-year-old boy named Ryan who once nervously cuddled up to a fourteen-year-old boy named Stefan one night … and never could have dreamed that his lips would someday touch those of the boy he couldn’t get out of his mind.
In Stefan’s eyes, I see all of the laughter we shared, the jokes we made, and the games we played. I see how much I filled up his heart, and how much he mended my wounded one.
It was never a question. I always belonged to Stefan Baker. My life was destined to be the story of how two unlikely boys found each other in the mess and confusion of adolescent rivalry and emotions we couldn’t dare name yet.
And that’s thanks to a smelly catcher’s mitt.
And an ill-timed boner.
I grin at my fiancé and put my lips right where they’ve always belonged: on Stefan’s—my bromo for life—who’s been right here in front of me all along.
The End.
*** Did you enjoy “Bromosexual”? ***
Keep turning the page if you’d like to read *two* FULL novellas from my Brazen Boys series, which is a collection of nine standalone M/M romances. I’ve included both “All Yours Tonight” as well as “On The Edge” for your reading pleasure. I hope you enjoy them!
Happy Reading, Always!
XXOO
Daryl