GENRE: Gay Spicy Romance
LENGTH: 33,857 words
RATING:

Tim Olfander escapes his busy, hectic life in LA to attend his ten year high school reunion in the city he left behind years ago, Lincoln Hill. There, at the resort the reunion has booked, his gaze falls almost instantly on the sexy, pretty guy behind the check-in counter. He chats up the guy only to learn he is the assistant manager, Brandon Collins.

Tim instantly sets in motion his plan to spend the week at the resort with Brandon's sweet body under his. He has no clue he’s no stranger to Brandon. He went to the same high school and is also going to be at the reunion.

Back then, Brandon was a shy, closeted nerd who had a big crush on Tim. Now’s Brandon’s chance to revisit that old crush from high school too. But he doesn’t want to give away his heart this time.

EXCERPT:
Note: may contain sexually explicit scenes of a homoerotic nature.

“Did you see it?” she demanded immediately, emphasizing what she meant by sticking the envelope from the reunion right in his face.

“Yes, I saw it,” Brandon said. He held the door open wide for her to step inside, then closed it behind her. “You’re not thinking of going, are you?”

“Me? Hell, no. Jimmy would never want to go. He didn’t even go to his own, let alone mine.” Jimmy was her husband. Brandon quite liked him. “Besides, those people were horrible. I don’t want to see any of those bitches and bastards.”

Brandon followed her as she headed to his kitchen. She helped herself to a cup out of the cabinet and then poured herself some coffee.

“But it’s at your resort.”

“It’s not my resort. I’m just the assistant manager,” Brandon said. He took out the flavored creamer and pushed it into her hands. “But yeah, I saw that too. I’m working that whole weekend. I already got the schedule for it.”

“So far in advance?”

“A lot of planning goes into those events.” Brandon sighed. “I’m just hoping no one will recognize me.”

Veronica, who wore a red velvet jogging suit, though Brandon knew she never went jogging, took a sip of her creamer with a little coffee. “Did you see the list of those who are attending?”

He shrugged. “Was it attached?”

“No. There’s a link you go to on their Web site, and they have the whole list. I’ll show you.”

Brandon glanced down at his robe. “Can I change first?”

“No. This is your day off. Why the rush? Besides, I’ve seen you naked. There’s nothing to see.” She tugged at the lapels of his robe.

He swatted her away. “Hey, do you mind?”

She rolled her eyes and headed out of the kitchen to the spare room, where he’d set up his computer. By the time he entered the room, she’d already powered up his desktop PC.

“I’m glad you aren’t pushy or anything,” Brandon said sarcastically.

She ignored that and instead said, “You look cute with your glasses on. You should wear them more often.”

He’d abandoned using his glasses outside of his house years ago in favor of contacts. Contacts, straight teeth, clear skin, and an expensive salon haircut and dye job had gone a long way to making Brandon happy and presentable to the world. To him, anyway. Veronica claimed he had always been a cutie.

Brandon pushed her aside to sit in his own computer chair. After signing in to his e-mail, he asked for the link.

“Click right there,” she said, pointing to the link that read List of Attendees So Far in neon red.

He scowled, muttered something about being able to read, and clicked the link. Folding his arms across his chest, Brandon asked, “And just what am I supposed to see?”

She smirked. “Check out the names under O.”

Indulging her, Brandon looked. And then he saw it.

Timothy Olfander.

His stomach flopped and then flipped. He covered his eyes, then uncovered them and looked again. It hadn’t changed.

“Ah, shit.”

Veronica nodded. “Can you believe it? Your high school crush. The man of your dreams. The one that got away. The --”

“Shut up, will you? I know who he is. And he didn’t get away, for fuck’s sake. He never even knew I existed except in my dreams while I jerked off.”

“TMI.” She wrinkled her nose. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Do about it? What am I supposed to do?”