Wild and Precious: An M/M Friends to Lovers Romance

by CJane Elliott

  His ponderings about Graham ended as they neared the club, where Cody and Lexie stood on the sidewalk waiting for them. When Cody caught sight of him, he broke into a big smile and strode over.

  “Hey, babe.” Cody leaned down to give Brent a kiss, which Brent accepted with only a mild inward squirm. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with public affection yet, but he’d gotten better at allowing it.

  Ari groaned. “C’mon, you lovebirds, enough with the PDA. I don’t want Lexie getting ideas.” He ducked the swat Lexie aimed at him, and they all entered the club.

  Inside, Brent came to a sudden stop. Graham was up front under the spotlight, singing. He looked sexy and dramatic, but it was his voice that captivated Brent. Something about it reached into Brent’s soul and made him restless, like he should be out climbing a mountain or taking a fearless stand… like he should be doing something more with his wild and precious life.

  Cody seemed as taken as Brent was, pausing beside him and listening until Graham reached the end of the song. “Woo, that motherfucker’s got some pipes.” Cody joined in the applause. “Has he ever sung professionally?”

  “I don’t know,” Brent said, coming out of the daze that Graham’s incredible voice had put him in.

  “He should. Let’s go get a drink.” As they walked to the bar, Cody paused. “Hey, did you get your applications in?”

  “Yep.” Brent had promised Cody he’d finish and send his applications to Johns Hopkins and U.Va. for their MFA programs in writing.

  Cody’s face lit up. “Great, babe! You’re going to graduate school!”

  Brent laughed. “If I’m accepted.”

  “You will be.”

  The next day, Brent bit the bullet and called Graham. Graham had been perfectly pleasant to him and Cody at karaoke, had joked around with them and even sung a duet with Cody, but when Brent had asked him what his plans were for the weekend, Graham had changed the subject. Fuck this, Brent thought as he punched in Graham’s number.

  “Hey, Brent.”

  “Hi.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Um, not much. I wondered if you wanted to hang out tomorrow. That new exhibit at the Corcoran sounds cool.”

  The pause that ensued caused Brent’s stomach to sink. Graham finally said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to spend so much time together outside of work.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve enjoyed our friendship, but I’m still your boss, and I need to keep some space between us, to be professional.”

  “Oh.” Brent didn’t have a clue how to respond to that.

  “The thing is,” Graham said in a lower voice, “I like you. A lot. Probably too much. And when I thought you were straight, that was a pretty good boundary. But now… ever since I found out about you and Cody, I have a million questions and a whole lot I’d love to talk to you about. But I’m not gonna go there. I can’t.”

  He fell silent, but Brent didn’t feel capable of replying. He likes me?A lot?

  “I need to keep it this way for now,” Graham continued. “I hope you understand.”

  Despite the thrill that went through Brent when Graham confessed he liked him, his primary emotion was loss. He realized in that moment how important Graham had become. He’d slowly moved from boss to casual friend to best friend in Brent’s life. Even worse, Brent knew with sudden clarity that what he felt for Graham was way beyond friendship. Graham had managed to take up residence in Brent’s heart in a way that Cody never had. And now he was saying good-bye?

  But all Brent said was “Okay. I… I’ll miss hanging out with you,” and hung up when he felt tears in his eyes, not wanting to make a fool of himself.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Winter sucked.

  Take February. February was a complete drag. The holidays were over, gray, freezing weather frosted the windows, and spring was eons away. It kept fucking snowing too.

  Wrapped in a comforter, Brent lay on his living room couch and brooded, as the TV made noises in the background. Cody puttered around, but they didn’t talk. They’d had another fight; Brent couldn’t even remember what about, but he suspected it was his fault.

  Cody had been nothing but great to him, patient and supportive. But after the initial glow of coming out as a public couple, Brent felt stifled at Cody being around so much. He wanted time to work on his writing, without him always underfoot. He kept getting irritable and then felt guilty for snapping at him.

  Brent sighed and pulled the comforter tighter around him, now moping about Graham. Don’t think about him, he told himself. But it was hard not to. He missed him. Damn him and his professional boundaries.

  Brent was jolted back to the present by the sound of Cody in the bedroom, talking on the phone. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Brent felt a pang, remembering the excitement of coming home to Cody every night for another “education session,” with Cody declaring Brent an “excellent pupil” in the mysteries of gay sex. They hadn’t had sex in over a week.

  Silence fell in the other room as Brent stared zombie-like at the TV, followed by the sound of rustling and drawers being opened then banged shut. After a few minutes, Cody emerged with a duffle bag in his hand. Brent sat up, raising his eyebrows in a question.

  Coming over to the couch, Cody set his duffle bag on the floor, sat down beside Brent, and took his hand. He gazed at Brent with his familiar sweet expression and heaved a sudden sigh.

  “It’s hard for me to say this, because I’m mad about you. But this isn’t working.”

  Brent’s stomach dropped, and he stiffened, clutching Cody’s arm. “What?”

  Cody stroked his hand. “You don’t really want this.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, babe. This has been a good experience, for both of us. I’ve loved being with you, but I think it’s time to move on.”

  “No. It’s—it’s good between us. You can’t say it hasn’t been good.” Wincing at the pleading in his voice, Brent nevertheless continued to clutch Cody’s arm, as if he could keep him there by physical force.

  “I just said it’s been good. It’s been great. You’re hot, and talented, and a really special person. But you’re not in love with me.” It was a statement, not a question. Cody was good at those.

  “So what? We haven’t been together that long. I mean, these things take time….” Brent trailed off, because even he could hear the lack of conviction in his voice.

  “I don’t think time is what’s missing here. It’s okay. I’m not in love with you, either. I think we’ve gotten a lot out of being with each other, but—”

  “Don’t go. Please.” A part of Brent was watching himself beg with disgust, especially since he was the one who’d been chafing at too much togetherness. He raised his eyes to Cody, his teacher. “God. Why am I so fucking panicked?”

  Cody’s expression softened. “Aw, hon.” He put his hand on Brent’s cheek. “This has been major for you. You came out, for God’s sake, and got yourself into a whole new life. No wonder you’re freaking.”

  Brent closed his eyes and turned his face into Cody’s hand, kissing his palm. “Right,” he whispered. “Right.”

  “You rock,” Cody continued. “But we’re not ‘it’ for each other. I think we were meant to come together and learn from each other. I’ve learned a lot from you, about writing, and discipline, and living life with integrity.”

  Brent squirmed. “Jeez.”

  “It’s true. You want more? The sex has been fantastic.” Cody put on a playful leer, and Brent gave him a small smile in return. “So, sure, we could continue on as fuck buddies. But I don’t think that’s what you’re looking for.”

  “No. I guess not.” Defeated, Brent laid his head on Cody’s shoulder.

  Cody stroked his hair, then rested his hand on Brent’s knee. “You’re looking to be in love. You’re a loyal, one-man kind of a guy, and someone’s going to be lucky to have you.”

  Brent took a shuddery breath, reme
mbering Graham saying almost the exact same words. He shook his head to clear his mind and met Cody’s warm eyes. “I’ll miss you,” he said, then closed his mouth because he didn’t want to cry.

  “I’ll miss you, too.”

  They sat there for a long time, Cody’s hand on Brent’s knee, Brent’s head on his shoulder.

  Brent officially hated February.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brent trudged along the slushy March sidewalk, making his slow way to the Metro and home for the evening. He glanced over at Kramerbooks and stopped. It shone like a beacon, all lit up and cozy in the fading winter twilight. He pushed open the door, taking in the welcome sight of rows and rows of books. His gaze fell on the poetry section and, of course, Mary Oliver’s name jumped out at him. He heard her voice, or what he imagined it to be, given he’d never heard her actual voice. Wild and precious life, huh? How’s that going, Brent?

  Brent’s life hadn’t exactly been wild or precious lately. He’d turned into a hermit, hiding out at home and licking his wounds over his double dumping—by Cody as a boyfriend and by Graham as a friend. Shut up, he told his self-pitying self, but as he walked into the Afterwords Café, memories rose up of the night he’d first met Cody and the time he and Graham had finished his Buddy Guy piece and laughed their asses off. Brent had been so alive back then. What happened?

  His phone buzzed as he settled at a table. Ari. Thank God for Ari and Darrell. They’d ganged up on him and kept him from becoming a total recluse. When he refused their invitations to go out, they showed up at his place with pizza, beer, and the latest video games. He let Ari’s call go to voice mail and ordered a cup of coffee. Then he noticed a gay couple at the next table, holding hands and smiling at each other.

  Okay, Brent told himself. Enough of this shit. I need to write. He pulled out a small notebook and a pen, and started putting words on the page. The first several attempts were utter dreck, but he crossed them out and kept going, even though it felt like he was pushing a large boulder uphill. At some point, words began to flow and he was in the zone.

  Two hours later, Brent left Kramerbooks feeling peaceful and accomplished. When he got home and opened his mailbox, an envelope was waiting from Johns Hopkins University, like a sign from the universe. Brent opened it right there in the apartment building lobby, and smiled, having just gotten his answer to what he was going to do next with his one wild and precious life.

  Chapter Twenty

  A month later, Brent sat in his cubicle, steeling himself to have the conversation he needed to have with Graham. Ari popped his head over the divider.

  “Yo! What’s new? You still wanna hang with me and Lexie on Saturday?”

  “Probably. I need to find out when my orientation is for the summer session.”

  “Wow. That’s coming up fast. Have you told Graham yet?”

  “Shh. Keep your voice down. I’m just about to.” Brent cast a nervous glance at Graham’s office.

  “Good luck, man. He’s not gonna like it, but he’ll deal. Let me know about Saturday.” Ari disappeared behind the divider.

  Brent stared out the window for a moment. It was finally spring, his other favorite season in DC. The cherry blossoms were out, the air was soft and warm, and everything seemed new again. As he looked at the pale green leaves on the trees, he felt a surge of hope. It had been a long slog since February.

  Work had been absorbing, which helped. Graham continued to be a demanding editor-in-chief, treating him no differently at work than he ever had. But Brent missed him on the weekends, so much some days he thought he’d go crazy. He’d picked up the phone to call him many times, but talked himself out of it, remembering what Graham had said about professional boundaries. Not wanting to think about that now, Brent tore his gaze from the window, studied the colorful Miró print, then busied himself shutting down his computer for the day.

  Gathering his courage, Brent got up, went to the open door of Graham’s office, and peeked in. Graham was tilted back in his big chair with his long legs propped up on the desk, reading a draft. He had on his Friday casual clothes, which for Graham meant boots, black jeans, shirt with the cuffs rolled up, and skinny tie. When Brent knocked on the doorframe, Graham peered over his draft, then took his feet off the desk and turned to face him.

  “Brent! Come on in.”

  Brent hesitated. “Can I shut the door?”

  “Sure. What’s up?” Graham scooted some files off the chair next to his desk. “Here, sit down.”

  Brent sat, trying to control his nerves, struck anew at how beautiful Graham was up close. Damn. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be thinking about. He twisted his hands together and launched in. “Um, this is kind of hard. I’m here to say I’m going to be resigning my position with the magazine.”

  Graham looked like he’d been struck. “Come again?”

  “I… I’m quitting.”

  “But, why? I mean…. Brent. I hope this isn’t due to anything I’ve done in the past to make you uncomfortable. That was inappropriate, and I recognize that—”

  “No,” Brent interrupted, wanting to save Graham from going any further down that path. “Not at all. I love my job, and you’re a great boss. But I want to pursue my writing. I’ve been accepted at Johns Hopkins into their MFA program. I’m starting this summer, so I won’t have time for a full-time job.”

  Graham’s face lit up, and he gripped Brent’s arm. “But that’s fantastic! I’m so happy for you.”

  Brent blushed, feeling the heat from Graham’s touch spread all the way through his body. “Thanks.”

  “Tell me more about this program,” Graham said, sitting back and letting go of Brent’s arm.

  Unbelievably relieved to be talking to Graham like old times, Brent described the program in detail, spurred on by Graham’s many questions, and got excited all over again. Graham beamed as Brent finished explaining the courses he’d be taking over the summer.

  “Wonderful,” Graham said. “So, what does your boyfriend think about all this?”

  “My…? Oh.” Brent shifted, embarrassed. “I thought you knew. I don’t have a boyfriend anymore. I mean… that’s been over for a while now.”

  “Oh? I hadn’t heard.” Graham hesitated. “But you… discovered you’re gay, or what?” He winced. “Oh, Jesus, excuse me, you don’t have to answer—”

  “Yes, I’m gay. Definitely. I came out to my family, even.”

  “Oh. Well. Well, then, I, uh….” Graham ran his hand through his hair, and it looked to Brent’s disbelieving eyes like he was blushing.

  He stared, fascinated. He’d never seen Graham flustered before.

  “Oh, hell,” Graham muttered. He leaned forward and adopted a formal air. “Then, Brent Granger, on behalf of Washington/Arts, I accept your resignation. But only on one condition.”

  “On… one condition?”

  “Yes.” Graham’s smile held the full force of his charm. “You let me take you out for a drink to celebrate.”

  “You want to take me…?” Brent shut his mouth, which was hanging open stupidly, then opened it to say, “Sure! I mean, I’d really like that.”

  He couldn’t keep the big, goofy grin off his face, but he didn’t mind, because it matched the one on Graham’s.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Two weeks later, Brent walked into a dimly lit, very ritzy hotel bar, Graham at his side. He couldn’t believe this was his life—starting a creative writing program and going out on a date with the most incredible man Brent knew.

  Graham had been scrupulous about delaying the date until after Brent’s last day at the magazine, saying, “I’ve been maintaining proper boss-employee relations all this time—well, kind of—and I can hold off two more weeks.” Brent’s last day at work had finally come, and here they were.

  Graham nodded familiarly to the doorman and the hostess, and a few of the well-dressed patrons greeted him as they were escorted to a small table. Brent followed, so out of his element that h
e almost wished he were anywhere else but there. But then Graham turned and held out his hand, Brent took it, and boom: he was walking on a cloud, light and powerful, his body buzzing with adrenaline.

  The bar had sofas and plush armchairs arranged around low tables. Soft jazz played in the background as Graham steered him over to a loveseat, and they sat down, Brent’s heart racing with his proximity to Graham, with how much he wanted him, and how surreal it was to be here with him. They ordered drinks, and Graham chatted with the waiter, who also seemed to know him.

  Once the waiter departed, Graham turned to Brent and captured his hand again. “Alone at last.” Although his smile was easy, his gray eyes were intense as his hand tightened on Brent’s.

  Brent nodded, speechless.

  “Is this okay?” Graham asked softly, a hint of uncertainty washing over his features.

  That got Brent talking. “God, yes. Thanks for taking me out to celebrate me leaving you high and dry at the magazine. That’s big of you, man.” He smiled impishly.

  Graham relaxed, chuckling. “Oh, I’d say it’s a fair trade, in fact, more than fair.” He paused as the waiter served their drinks, then he picked up his glass in a toast. “Here’s to you, Brent, for following your dreams and creating a life of adventure.”

  They took a sip, and then Brent lifted his. “And here’s to you, Graham, for being the most kick-ass boss I’ve ever had.”

  Graham took a laughing bow, and they sipped. Graham raised his glass once again. “And here’s to you for being brilliant, talented, and brave.”

  “Wow. Okay.” Brent lifted his glass. “And here’s to you for being amazing, outrageous, and… beautiful.” He was distracted from his surprise at his own boldness by the stark desire on Graham’s face.