Reunited Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  About the Author

  By Andrew Grey

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Reunited

  By Andrew Grey

  Back in high school, nobody noticed quiet nerd Kevin Howard.

  But everybody noticed handsome, athletic, and ultrapopular jock Clay Northrup.

  They had nothing in common and lived in different worlds.

  But a lot can change in fifteen years, and when they meet again at their high school reunion, Clay is no longer the big man on campus, and Kevin isn’t hiding in a corner anymore.

  Can they put aside who they were? Can one night really lead to forever?

  For Julia, because of everything you do to bring my books to life in German.

  Chapter 1

  I PULLED off the eighth shirt I’d tried on and tossed it onto the bed.

  “I’m not going,” I said, making my mind for the last time. I put my hands on my hips and turned around.

  Nathan, my best friend since sixth grade, stood in the bedroom doorway of my apartment, staring at me, shaking his head. “Right, Kevin. You’re so not going,” he said, his voice ringing with sarcasm. “Put on the blue shirt you tried on first and forget the stupid tie. This is a class reunion, not an audience with the queen.” He stepped forward, snapped up the shirt, and sent the others fluttering through the air.

  “Now you made a mess.” I groaned softly.

  “No. It’s where those things belong,” Nathan retorted. He glared at me until I put on the shirt and buttoned it. Without prompting, he fussed with my collar until it was just the way he wanted it and then stepped back. I unbuttoned my pants to tuck the shirt in. “Stop. Wear it out. It’s cut to be worn untucked.” He smoothed his hands down the front of my chest, brushing away imaginary lint.

  I probably should have been grateful. It was the most I’d been touched in two years.

  Nathan continued his shoulder-brushing routine, and I figured I’d be better off falling in love with him rather than the guys I usually picked, but there had never been anything between us.

  “Do I look presentable now?”

  “Almost. Hold out your arm.” He rolled his eyes when I demurred, and smiled when I complied. Nathan slipped four of his stone-bead bracelets over my wrist, making sure they were artfully aligned. “There. You look cool and understated.”

  The lapis, agate, white moonstone, and onyx beads felt strange, cool and a little tight.

  “Do I really need these?” I asked, bringing my wrist upward to look at the emblem attached to one of them. It jangled as I moved.

  “Yes. This one is one of a kind. It’s an 1886 German mark. I got it especially for you because you speak German. It screamed you when I saw it.” He smiled, and I realized these were a gift. “You can’t spend the rest of your life as Frumpy McFrumpster. I know you’re nervous, so there will be a little bit of me along with you. Whenever you feel nervous, you can remember my fabulousness and let it give you strength.”

  “You could always come with me,” I offered. In his junior year, Nathan had transferred because his parents moved to the neighboring town of Coopersville, Michigan. So while we’d remained best friends, we’d graduated from different schools.

  “Nope. I have a date tonight.” Nathan grinned, as though he had any trouble meeting guys. “With Rodney,” he added in a semiwhisper.

  “Is this your fourth one in two weeks? That’s a record.”

  Nathan looked aghast. “It is not.” He put his hand over his heart melodramatically. “But it is the sex date, or the potential-sex date, anyway.”

  Nathan had a dating formula. First date: dinner and a kiss good night. Second date: some sort of activity, then another kiss good night, this time with tongue to get a taste of the guy. Third date: a movie, some making out in the back, a little touchy-feely to ensure the guy had the right stuff and was into him, then leave the guy wanting more. Fourth date: dinner—lobster, preferably—then an invitation back to his place for some wine and….

  “Be careful, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I told him, getting an epic eye-roll in response.

  “I fully intend to do things you haven’t done in years.” Nathan winked. “I’m hoping to get lucky. Now.” He swished his hand. “Get those shoes and socks on and get out of here. You have places to be, and so do I.” He tapped his foot in mock impatience.

  I finished dressing. Ready for inspection, I took another glance in the mirror, then grabbed my wallet and phone. I had better get going before I lost my nerve… again.

  Nathan walked me out to the car, probably to make sure I actually left. “Have a good time, and whatever’s got you so nervous, forget it. You haven’t seen most of these people in a decade, and you aren’t likely to see them again unless you want to. So have fun and remember to be the person you want to be, the one you are now, not the kid you were back then.” He patted the top of the door, and I pulled it closed.

  Nathan was right. I just wondered if I could pull it off.

  THE DRIVE to Norton Shores, a suburb of Muskegon, Michigan, took about an hour, giving me time to think. Nathan was right—I had hardly seen anyone I’d gone to school with in the ten years since graduation, other than a few people at college, which was mostly in passing. So what was I worried about?

  I kept asking myself that question until I pulled into the parking lot and got out of my BMW. The skies had cleared along the route, so I’d put the top down and let the rush of air clear my head.

  And it had worked, until I saw him.

  Clayton “Clay” Northrup—just the name was enough to bring back months of teenage hopeless longing that I’d known would never amount to anything. And there he was, standing by his car, watching me. Or more likely my car, given it was way more interesting than I could ever hope to be.

  “Kevin,” Clay said with genuine warmth, and I actually thought about looking around to ensure he was talking to me. “It’s good to see you.” He extended his hand, and I shook it, surprised he remembered me, let alone knew who I was in the first place.

  Clay had been the guy who had it all. He was a talented actor, had the lead in all the school plays and musicals, and he was on the football team. He was the man everyone wanted to be and the one all the girls had wanted. We’d crossed paths in a serious way because I was in the drama club, which I only joined because my mother had thought acting would help me meet people.

  “You’re looking good,” Clay said, pulling me out of my temporary ruminations. “You lost weight. Not that you ever needed to, but…,” he stammered.

  “I’m more active now and I slimmed down.” It was true. I had been husky in school, but all that had changed once I’d discovered martial arts in college. Some friends had decided to take up karate back then, and I’d gone along with them. But I’d found a real love of the art, and it had turned out I was good at it. “What are you doing now?”

  “My dad passed away a few years ago, so I’m running the dealership.” He shrugged as though there was never a doubt he’d take over. “Mom can’t do it any longer, and with Dad gone, it fell to me.” He wandered over to my car and took a slow walk around it. “It’s beautiful. How fast does it go?”

  I chuckled. “Fast. But I’m pretty careful with it.”

  He smiled and turned back to the car, peering inside. “The color is amazing. No one else gets a finish like this. And the interior. May I?” he asked, and I opened the door to let him slide inside. “I always wanted one.” He ran his hands over the steering wheel, and old fantasies of him using his hands on me like that came rushing back. I
swallowed, pushing away things I knew would never happen, and stepped back so he could open the door. “What do you do now?”

  “Well, I own karate studios.” I locked the door, even though the top was down, because it deactivated access to the other areas of the car, then slipped the fob into my pocket, and we walked together toward the entrance to the school. “I also consult a lot on movies and things like that. I have studios in LA, as well as New York, San Francisco, and of course, here. This was the first one, so I keep it for sentimental reasons.” Plus it was more economical to have the business’s HQ here.

  His eyes widened. “You’re serious?” Clay’s eyes slid over me, and I had to stop from wondering if that meant what I hoped it meant. “Do you teach?”

  “Yeah. I work with the senior-level students, as well as my instructors. I travel between the studios each month. It keeps me busy, but I love it.” I smiled and let the contentment of what I knew wash over me to help keep the nerves at bay. “What else have you been doing besides running the dealership?”

  We arrived at the door to the school, and Clay stopped. “I went to New York right after graduating from college, tried to make it on Broadway.” His shoulders slumped slightly. “I really thought I had what it took. Went on a million auditions, danced and sang my heart out. I got a few parts in the chorus, and every time, the show closed within days and I was back to square one again. Then more auditions and nothing… for months.” He looked as defeated as I used to feel all those years ago. But Clay shook himself and gave a small chuckle. “You always had it together and oozed self-assurance back then.”

  God, I threw my head back and laughed. “You have got to be kidding.”

  “No way,” Clay said. “You were the kid who was out, you held your head high, ignored the shit that people threw at you like it didn’t matter, and were your own person. That takes guts.”

  How much had Clay Northrup been looking at me? He’d seen me back when I had barely seen myself. It sent a tingle up my spine.

  “You can’t be serious. I was shaking in my boots half the time, waiting for the next fist to strike or the next nickname to start making the rounds.” That was so long ago, and I needed to remember that, especially as anger welled up. I took a deep, cleansing breath and controlled the emotion, letting it dissipate with each exhale, just like I told my students to do. The arts were a discipline of both body and mind, working as one. “But things change.”

  “Yes, they do.” Clay motioned for me to go first, and I led the way inside. The hallways looked like I remembered, still lined with steel-gray lockers, the same tile floors, and blue-and-white walls—the school colors.

  I followed a long, almost forgotten route through the halls to the cafeteria, which had been set up with a hipster coffeehouse vibe. It was interesting and different, and yet familiar.

  “Clay,” a couple of guys called happily, hurrying over.

  I recognized them as Doug Hansen and Pat Greer, both members of the football team. They appeared just as outgoing as ever, but probably hadn’t done anything athletic in a while. They hugged and exchanged pats on the back, while I stood off to the side, watching in dread.

  “Guys, you remember Kevin Howard, right?”

  They looked blank for a moment, but then Pat grinned. “Oh yeah, the fag. I remember.” The same look of impending torment Pat had given me in high school spread across his face.

  “Kevin!” A warm voice floated over the others, and I turned. Sally, a close friend and ally for me during the last two years of school, cut a path toward us. “It’s so good to see you.” She was nearly six feet tall and all legs and curves, turning nearly every head in the room. “I was hoping you’d be here.” She hugged me tightly, smelling lightly of floral perfume. “How are you?” she asked, pointedly ignoring the others.

  “Better now,” I said with a growing smile. “I hear you got appointed assistant DA a little while ago. That’s quite an accomplishment.”

  Sally smirked and half turned to Pat. “That’s because I have brass balls and I’m not afraid to use them.”

  I put my hand over my mouth to stop a chuckle.

  She turned her gaze fully on Pat and Doug. “I see you two have managed to de-evolve back to Neanderthal. Don’t you think it’s time you grew up?”

  Snickers spread through the room, and I realized nearly everyone was listening to see what would happen. Pat’s tanned skin turned three shades of red, and Doug took a step back, melding into the group, ostensibly to get a drink.

  “How are you, Clay?” Sally continued without skipping a beat. “I saw you at the dealership last week when I had my Lincoln serviced. You look good.”

  “Thanks. I’m keeping busy.”

  Even Clay was ignoring Pat, who turned and stalked off, hopefully to some corner to sulk for the rest of the evening. I hoped he would be completely embarrassed and leave, but Pat had too little self-awareness for that. He would just try to find a few like-minded people and glom off them for the rest of the night.

  “I like what you’ve done to streamline service and be more proactive when it comes to maintenance. I can never remember when to bring it in, but your people call and remind me. It’s good for business.”

  “Thanks.” Clay turned, got a couple glasses of champagne from a table near the bar, and handed one to Sally and the other to me.

  I sipped. “What about you?”

  Clay shook his head. “I haven’t had a drink in almost seven years. After the failures in New York, I took to drinking a lot, and that led to other issues. So I gave it up and went to AA. It’s a struggle every day, but I get through it.”

  I looked at Sally and set my glass aside. Suddenly the sparkling wine didn’t taste so good.

  Sally did the same.

  “That isn’t necessary,” Clay said.

  “I don’t drink very much either. It messes with my head and makes it hard for me to center.” I had enough depressants in my life as it was. I didn’t need to add anything. “Besides, it’s what friends do.” I had never considered Clay my friend, but still, it seemed an easy way to support those who were able to take such a huge step in their lives.

  “How long are you in town?” Sally asked as she scanned the room.

  “Just a couple of days. Then I need to go to LA. I have meetings at the dojos, and then I’m consulting on a couple of films. I honestly can’t mention the titles or the stars involved, but you can probably guess if you try hard enough.” I loved that my job let me work with dedicated people who were committed to excellence, both on and off the screen.

  “Will you be back after that?” Clay questioned after a drink of water.

  “From there I’ll go on to San Francisco before heading to Houston, where I’m opening a new dojo. One of my students has reached the point where she is able to teach as well as manage on her own, and I’ve had a lot of interest there, so we’re going to give it a shot.” I was really excited about this particular opening. It would be the first in Texas, and I already had a number of students signed up for classes that didn’t start for two months.

  I glanced over at Clay, who listened but had lost the light in his eyes. It wasn’t like he was bored—more introspective. I’d seen that look in the mirror a lot when I was younger and could guess what it meant. At the time, everyone seemed to know what was happening and where they were headed, and I’d felt left out.

  “Ladies and gentlemen….” The sound system buzzed the way all of them did at these gatherings when someone tried to half yell into it. “Please find a table so we can get started with dinner. The bar is open and will stay that way for much of the evening.” Lori Quinn smiled out at the group and then stepped away from the microphone.

  Everyone scuttled to find a place, and I took a seat out of the way and ended up with Sally on one side and Clay on the other. Our former class officers got up to give their brief talks and review some of the accomplishments of the class, but I spent it distracted by Clay. Thank God I hadn’t responded to th
e survey that had gone out with the invitation.

  I sank into myself, centering my spirit and mind on what was truly important, trying to let go of fifteen-year-old angst and worry. By the time the long-winded and say-very-little speeches finished, it was time to eat, and I stood with the others to get in line.

  A half hour of meditation and centering should have done the trick, but as soon as Clay nudged behind me in line, it all went out the damned window.

  Chapter 2

  “ARE YOU married?” I asked Clay, having noticed the absence of both a wife and a ring. It was a natural, if leading question. Just what I needed.

  “Smooth,” Sally said under her breath from next to me, but danged if she didn’t lean forward with her own curiosity.

  “I was.” Clay shook his head. “I married Bridget.” He turned to where she stood across the room, holding the arm of another man. She looked much the same as in high school: thin and attractive, with long blonde hair. Heck, I expected her to change into her cheerleading outfit at any second. “God, what a nightmare that was.”

  I tried not to lean closer, but human nature being what it is… and inquiring minds wanted to know.

  “She had all these expectations of what our life would be like together, especially after she followed me to New York.” He frowned, continuing to watch her. “Everything was supposed to be rosy and perfect, and if things weren’t, she covered it up and lied about it. I was trying my best to follow a dream, and every setback was treated as though it was the end of the world to her. Maybe it was and I was the one who expected too much of her. She left after a year.” He shrugged. “I wish her well. We were good friends and got along in high school, but this”—he motioned around the room—“was not the real world, even if we thought it was.”

  Bridget saw Clay and came over. She was all smiles and pleasant enough, talking briefly about nothing of consequence, other than how good it was to see everyone and things like that. But Clay tensed and seemed to try to make the best of it, until she drifted away once again.