Kris T. Bethke–Author of M/M Romance

When I first got the invitation, I dismissed it out of hand. I had no interest in going. I hadn’t liked high school much when I’d actually attended, though I hadn’t had an overly bad experience, and I was barely friends with anyone I’d been friends with then. Social media was the only interaction I had with them these days. It had been ten years, and I had no desire to relive it.

But then I heard the rumors.

Nick had been a god in high school. Beautiful and perfect, with startling deep blue eyes and dark hair. He’d been on the cross country team and was ridiculously fit. And he’d been kind and charming. He was everyone’s friend, and just a genuinely nice guy. I’d spent all of junior and senior years with a crush so hard my heart pounded and I turned bright red every time I saw him. Our circles had intersected a little–friends of my friends were friends with his friends–so we’d interacted sometimes outside of classes. Though I always became a tongue tied mess, Nick never seemed to notice. Not my awkwardness, and not my insane crush. I was okay with him not noticing, because I would rather be invisible to the straight, perfect jock, then for him to tease or worse, show me revulsion. I was happy to admire him from afar.

So when the rumors started to circulate and make it onto my feeds and timelines, I paid attention. It seemed Nick had recently come out of the closet. I never suspected it back then, though my teenage heart wished for it fervently. I dismissed it at first, not wanting to get my hopes up. But then someone retweeted his tweet, and I had confirmation.

Suddenly that invitation to the reunion was appealing. Because I wanted to see him.

The ballroom at the hotel was packed. Our gradating class had been almost four hundred. Even though I was sure not everyone had shown up, adding in spouses and significant others, and the numbers swelled again. Everything was decorated in shades of black and gold. It was just this side of tacky but knowing who was in charge of the reunion, I wasn’t surprised in the least. I had no problems ignoring the decor, and I headed right for the bar to grab a drink and unobtrusively mingle.

And watch for Nick.

I was surprised to find, after an hour or so, that I was actually enjoying myself. Not the most fun I’d ever had but it wasn’t unbearable. I’d landed on the outskirts of a group of people I’d hung out with back then, and was listening with half an ear as the conversation swirled around me. I periodically scanned the crowd, making mental notes of who looked better, worse, or the same. It was interesting how many people I actually recognized. I was so lost in my mental game that when I spotted him, my body reacted to hot guy first before I recognized it was him.

Quickly I excused myself from the conversation I’d been peripherally involved in and made a beeline for the bar. The last ten years had been kind to him and he was even more gorgeous than I remembered. Those piercing blue eyes locked on mine as I approached, and then went hooded as he took me in, his gaze sweeping from head to toe. I tried not to preen as I saw the appreciation in his eyes. And because I was focused on those deep blue eyes, I saw the moment recognition dawned. He almost choked on the swallow of beer, and he coughed as he tried to get his breathing back.

“Avery? Is that you?” he asked, disbelief in his tone. “Holy shit! You look fantastic!”

For a moment, I was the chubby, insecure seventeen year old I’d once been. My heart started to pound and my palms started to sweat. I couldn’t believe he recognized me, and I never imagined he would remember my name. I’d changed a lot in the intervening years. I’d worked hard to shed the pounds, to get fit and toned and to stay that way. That he noticed, and liked what he saw, was a bit of a shock. But to be appreciated by this gorgeous man, someone I still thought of occasionally, felt incredibly good.

I made a split second decision, shedding the insecurities, and deciding to go for it. I turned up my most charming smile, the one that got me laid when I went out looking for a hook-up, and leaned into his space just a little.

“Hey, Nick,” I said, letting my voice drop into the lower register. I swiped my tongue across my bottom lip. “You look as amazing as always.”

He swallowed, and I watched as the lust blew his pupils. Then he took a step closer to me so that I had to tilt my head back a bit to keep his gaze. He looked me over again.

“It’s really good to see you,” he said, sounding just a little breathless. “I had wondered if you were going to be here.”

My heart gave a stuttering thump, and a grin stretched my lips.

“I wasn’t going to show, but then I heard about you,” I admitted, laying it all on the line. I was reasonably sure that my advances weren’t going to be dismissed. “I wanted to see my high school crush again.”

He inhaled sharply, and his gaze dropped to my mouth.

“You had a crush on me?” His voice was barely a murmur.

“So hard,” I answered suggestively.

Nick took that final step into my space. We were so close that every time we inhaled, our chests touched. He licked his lips as his gaze remained fixed on my face. He took deep breath, and then leaned down to speak in my ear. “Want to get out of here and go get coffee or something?”

“Or something,” I agreed, angling my body so my semi-hard dick brushed against his hip.

Nick gave a shiver as he stepped back, then grabbed my hand and practically yanked me after him.

I couldn’t stop grinning.

**Thought I’d do a something a little different today and repost one of the first flash fics I wrote. It’s been two and a half years, and this one was always one of my faves. Enjoy!**

His job had transferred him out of state and I had been heartbroken.  After eight months of building a solid relationship, he was moving to the other side of the country.  How could fate be so cruel?  But he had sworn to me that he didn’t want to give me up, that what we had was worth it, worth everything, and we would make long distance work where so many couples before us had failed.

At first, it had been wonderful.  Every evening, we’d skype and it was almost as good as being together.  I couldn’t touch him, smell him, taste him, but it was almost and it was what he had.  We’d carry our laptops with us as we went about cooking dinner, watching TV, life in general, talking about our days and our lives.

But then, after six months of that, he’d started to pull away.  He’d make excuses; say he had to work late or that he’d had to meet a client for dinner.  I’d tried to talk to him about it, suggest that we should maybe take a break, but he was adamant that was not what he wanted.  It was a rough patch, we would get through it.  But lately, our skype dates were coming fewer and farther between.  And as I sat there in the corner, staring at the laptop and waiting for him to call, my heart was breaking.  Because this was the fifth time he’d simply not called when he said he would.  Afterwards he sent emails and texts, swearing it was unforeseen and he was so, so sorry.  And I kept falling for it.

“So what’s his excuse this time?” my roommate’s voice startled me.  I jumped but didn’t look at him.  “Or did he just blow you off again?”

I didn’t respond.  There was nothing I could say.  Quickly, Julian was across the room, kneeling before my chair.  I couldn’t look at him.  He was beautiful and kind and loving, but he was my best friend.  And I was committed to someone else.

Julian’s warm hands gripped my calves.  “Forget him, Henry.  He’s not worth it.  Never was.”

I couldn’t respond.  Didn’t know how.  Julian’s sentiment echoed my own, mostly.  There had been a time when…the chime from the laptop interrupted my thoughts.  I was receiving a call.  Three hours late, but there he was.

Before I could react, Julian reached over and snapped the laptop shut.  He shoved it off the bed and it landed with a thump on the plush carpet.  I opened my mouth to protest, to say something, anything.  But Julian was quicker, rising up on his knees, and pressing his soft lips to mine. I couldn’t believe it, didn’t even know how to react, but Julian was not dissuaded.  He kissed me gently, coaxingly, until I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him back with equal fervor.

He pulled back, both of us panting for air, and gave me a soft smile.  His big hands framed my face and forced me to look at him.  “You’re mine, baby.  Always have been.  So you’re done with that jerk.  And you are never going to hurt again.”

I didn’t like practical jokes. I very rarely thought they were funny. To me, they felt mean. I knew I was in the minority, but I didn’t like to laugh at others. I didn’t like it when people made fake announcements that were supposed to be happy or shocking, and then take it all back. I found it hurtful more often than not. It made me uncomfortable.

So this day, April 1st, was one I dreaded with everything in me. I steered clear of social media. I didn’t watch TV because even self-respecting news programs got into the horrid “holiday.” I even took the day off of work, just so I could hide at home. Instead I immersed myself in a good book and ignored the world all day.

So when my phone started blowing up with text messages and Twitter and Facebook notifications, all congratulating me on my engagement, I was shocked. At first. And then I started to get wary and confused. And the more messages that came in, the more confused I got. Until it started to boil over into anger.

It didn’t take long to figure out what happened. As message after message popped up, I cautiously scrolled through my notifications until I came to the one that started it all. A tweet of a message cross posted from my boyfriend’s Facebook page. “Luke and Michael happily announce: WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!!!” with me tagged at the end and several little heart emojis.

I gasped, then choked, and then nearly threw up. How dare he do something like this? He knew how much I despised this sort of thing on this day! We weren’t some sort of April Fools joke. How could he treat us like one? My heart hurt even as my anger burbled over into rage, and I called him even knowing he’d be in the middle of his work day.

“Hey baby,” he answered on the second ring, his voice low and smooth and full of love and affection. Usually, that voice had me grinning and melting, but not today.

“How could you?!” I ground out, my temper taking over. I shoved a hand into my hair and pull at the strands. “How could you do this to me? To us? You know how I feel about this!”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he soothed, and I heard him stand up from his desk, the rattle and bang of his chair familiar. “What are you talking about? Michael, what happened?”

“You!” I all but shouted. “With that fake announcement on your Facebook wall! What kind of shit is that?”

“What do you mean?” I heard the genuine confusion in his tone. “Was I not supposed to announce it yet? I didn’t think that would be a problem.”

I was brought up short. Then I squinted my eyes, even though he wasn’t here to see. I needed to make sure we were on the same page. “Luke, what are you talking about?”

“Last night, I asked you to marry me and you said yes. So today I posted it. I didn’t give any details. I was just so happy I couldn’t contain it and I wanted the world to know.”

“When did I ever…” I trailed off as the memory resurfaced. Of us naked and sweaty and his cum and lube drying on my skin. Of the love that filled his eyes as he pulled me in close and he said he loved me more than anything and we should get married. And me agreeing, sated and happy, snuggling in closer, content in a way only he made me feel. I groaned, and slumped back on the couch. My voice was a mere whisper when I spoke, “I thought we were just, you know, starting to talk about it. I didn’t realize it was a proposal.”

Dead silence from his end. I swallowed hard, suddenly scared I’d hurt him. I opened my mouth, ready to call his name, but he spoke first.

“Do you want to marry me?”

And I got what he was asking. He wanted to know if it was something I even wanted, if I was ready. And the truth was, I was very ready. We’d been dating for two years, exclusive and in each other’s back pockets for nearly that whole time. He got me like no one else, and even though he’d yet to reach a quarter of a century and I was past three decades, I loved the holy hell out of him. I wanted him by my side forever.

“Yes,” I said, firmly and full of conviction. “Very much so.”

His sigh of relief was loud. “Okay, well. Awesome. Good. We’re getting married. And I told the world already. So we’re good.”

I grinned, because I loved him. “On April Fools day,” I groused, only half meaning it.

He gave a low chuckle. “Yeah, I didn’t even think of it being the first. Oh well. Anyone who knows us will know that we meant it, no matter what day we announced it.”

And the truth was, he was absolutely right.