The last thing Jett Walker wants is to attend his thirty-year class reunion, especially after spending all of high school in the closet. But then he learns the one person he was never able to resist will also be there—punk rocker Trev Chambers. Trev was the epitome of everything Jett wanted to be, and now he’s reuniting the band he made famous in the intervening years for a final blowout concert. Though nobody back home in Louisville knows he’s gay, Jett finally decides to go to the event. He needs closure, and one weekend pretending he’s straight is more than worth it.
When he discovers Trev lives less than two hours away from him, Jett seeks him out on a whim. The punk rocker has grown up, but as far as Jett’s concerned, Trev is more appealing than ever. And better still, he’s also gay, and available.
One brief conversation turns into a date, which raises the question...are Jett and Trev just living in nostalgia, or can they find a way to build a real future together?
When he discovers Trev lives less than two hours away from him, Jett seeks him out on a whim. The punk rocker has grown up, but as far as Jett’s concerned, Trev is more appealing than ever. And better still, he’s also gay, and available.
One brief conversation turns into a date, which raises the question...are Jett and Trev just living in nostalgia, or can they find a way to build a real future together?
Genres: Gay/Contemporary/The Arts
Heat Level: 3
Length: Extended Novella (35k words)
Length: Extended Novella (35k words)
Read a short excerpt...
...“You need to go,” Tatum announced without glancing up.
Electricity surged through him. “Why? What did you find?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?” Abandoning any pretense that he was disconnected from this, he stood and twisted so they were shoulder to shoulder, his view the same as hers. She hadn’t opened a window yet, still scrolling through the links her search had produced. “Of course, it matters.”
“Why? You want to see this guy again, not because of who he is now but who he was then. I don’t see the harm in going for the concert and skipping all the rest of the reunion crap you have no interest in. It’s a lot cheaper midlife crisis than buying a sports car.”
“Ha ha.” But it lacked enthusiasm, his thoughts too much in turmoil at Tatum’s argument. “Not happening.”
“Tell me why.”
“Because nobody in Louisville knows I’m gay.”
“So?”
“So it’s not New York.”
“And you never have to see them again once you leave.”
“But they’ll know. They’ll talk.”
With an exasperated sigh, she lowered her phone. “Since when do you care about any of that shit? You’ve had a life here for years. When was the last time you apologized for who you are to anybody?”
“The day I left Louisville.” If she wasn’t going to look, he was. He took the phone from her grasp and clicked the first link that looked promising. “It’s too hard to explain. I spent years being afraid of what people might say if they found out. It’s like they have some sort of weird hold over me, where I’m sixteen all over again and nothing I’ve done for the last thirty years matters.”
“This isn’t high school. People get over that crap.”
“Maybe. I’m not sure it’s worth trying to find out, though…” He trailed off. One of the links she’d found hit the jackpot.
The article was in conjunction with a music festival in Pennsylvania from two years earlier. A music store was hosting local bands as a precursor to the festival’s start date, and along with promo shots of the groups, the reporter had included a picture of the store’s owner. Trevor Chambers.
The name wasn’t that uncommon. It could’ve been anyone, especially since the store was nowhere near Kentucky. Jett had picked the link because of the music connection, grasping at straws, really, but the photo proved his instincts to hone in on Trev were still solid.
He was dressed casually, in faded jeans that clung to his long legs, a plaid shirt hanging open over a plain white T-shirt. With his arms folded across his chest, he leaned against the plate glass window of the store behind him. The name, The Music Room, was painted in white and black on easy display. Nothing about his clothing or demeanor suggested the hungry lead singer from Godless Crisis.
It was the eyes that did the trick. The intense blue, even without the liner, cut through the fourth wall to bore into those on the other side. Pure Trev.
His dark hair had gone gray in the decades since high school, cut short and neat to highlight his square jaw. The heartbroken mouth that had seduced an MTV generation was set in a firm line, though Jett imagined that was more habit than personal malice. Still slim, chiseled in a way that only time could achieve. Beneath those unassuming clothes would be a body of fantasies, whether man or woman, young or old.
Jett couldn’t breathe. How was it possible Trev was more enticing now than he’d been when Jett was a walking hormone?
All he knew was that there was no way he wasn’t seeing this once in a lifetime concert...
Electricity surged through him. “Why? What did you find?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?” Abandoning any pretense that he was disconnected from this, he stood and twisted so they were shoulder to shoulder, his view the same as hers. She hadn’t opened a window yet, still scrolling through the links her search had produced. “Of course, it matters.”
“Why? You want to see this guy again, not because of who he is now but who he was then. I don’t see the harm in going for the concert and skipping all the rest of the reunion crap you have no interest in. It’s a lot cheaper midlife crisis than buying a sports car.”
“Ha ha.” But it lacked enthusiasm, his thoughts too much in turmoil at Tatum’s argument. “Not happening.”
“Tell me why.”
“Because nobody in Louisville knows I’m gay.”
“So?”
“So it’s not New York.”
“And you never have to see them again once you leave.”
“But they’ll know. They’ll talk.”
With an exasperated sigh, she lowered her phone. “Since when do you care about any of that shit? You’ve had a life here for years. When was the last time you apologized for who you are to anybody?”
“The day I left Louisville.” If she wasn’t going to look, he was. He took the phone from her grasp and clicked the first link that looked promising. “It’s too hard to explain. I spent years being afraid of what people might say if they found out. It’s like they have some sort of weird hold over me, where I’m sixteen all over again and nothing I’ve done for the last thirty years matters.”
“This isn’t high school. People get over that crap.”
“Maybe. I’m not sure it’s worth trying to find out, though…” He trailed off. One of the links she’d found hit the jackpot.
The article was in conjunction with a music festival in Pennsylvania from two years earlier. A music store was hosting local bands as a precursor to the festival’s start date, and along with promo shots of the groups, the reporter had included a picture of the store’s owner. Trevor Chambers.
The name wasn’t that uncommon. It could’ve been anyone, especially since the store was nowhere near Kentucky. Jett had picked the link because of the music connection, grasping at straws, really, but the photo proved his instincts to hone in on Trev were still solid.
He was dressed casually, in faded jeans that clung to his long legs, a plaid shirt hanging open over a plain white T-shirt. With his arms folded across his chest, he leaned against the plate glass window of the store behind him. The name, The Music Room, was painted in white and black on easy display. Nothing about his clothing or demeanor suggested the hungry lead singer from Godless Crisis.
It was the eyes that did the trick. The intense blue, even without the liner, cut through the fourth wall to bore into those on the other side. Pure Trev.
His dark hair had gone gray in the decades since high school, cut short and neat to highlight his square jaw. The heartbroken mouth that had seduced an MTV generation was set in a firm line, though Jett imagined that was more habit than personal malice. Still slim, chiseled in a way that only time could achieve. Beneath those unassuming clothes would be a body of fantasies, whether man or woman, young or old.
Jett couldn’t breathe. How was it possible Trev was more enticing now than he’d been when Jett was a walking hormone?
All he knew was that there was no way he wasn’t seeing this once in a lifetime concert...
I love reunion stories. Can't wait to read it!
ReplyDeleteHmm, love the idea of Jeff finally fulfilling a long time fantasy with the man who he has probably compared all other men to and what will happen in reality? I am intrigued to find out, thank you for the chance to win these books :)
ReplyDelete