Page 16 of Brad & Finn (Gomillion High Reunion #3)

“Oh! We met someone with wine!” Naomi said, and she turned around, dragging Mariana with her since her arm was still firmly around Mariana’s waist.

“She’s over there, carino,” Mariana said, laughter in her voice as she wheeled Naomi around the other way and pointed to a group of women standing halfway between the cocktail bar and registration.

After last night, Finn had opted for sparkling water, and Chloe was still coming down from her caffeine high and was drinking Sprite like it was her job. Brad was nursing a beer, and as they both watched Chloe sprint across the gym, he drained the rest of his bottle.

“Should you go after her?” Mariana asked, her voice surprisingly fond after such a brief conversation.

“I can follow her this time if you want to grab us some more drinks?” Brad offered, gesturing at Finn’s empty glass.

He couldn’t tell if Brad had somehow picked up on his wariness to meet yet more of Chloe’s random friends, or if he was merely being his overly polite and helpful self. Either way, Finn would gladly take him up on the offer.

They bid the two women goodbye, and Finn was surprised to find that, for the first time that evening, he meant it when he said he hoped to see them again later.

Before he could get too far ahead, Brad slung a friendly arm around his shoulders. Finn tried not to melt into a puddle, but with the way all the tension in his body released at once, he had to struggle to remain upright.

“How are you doing?” Brad murmured.

Finn leaned a little heavier into his side than necessary.

“I’m okay. It’s a lot of socializing, but…

” He wasn’t sure how to end that sentence.

But he loved spending time with Chloe, even with this relatively pointless fake dating scheme?

But every minute he spent with Brad was one more than he thought he’d ever get to have again?

“I meant with Chloe getting asked about her ‘partner in crime’ by everyone who knew you back then,” Brad clarified.

Finn took a slow breath, and his shoulders lifted Brad’s arm.

When he exhaled, that arm dropped down around Finn’s back.

Brad’s hand gently closed around his bicep, and Finn had the ridiculous urge to flex.

T had given him definition in places he’d never had before—and in ways Brad hadn’t seen on him in high school.

As Brad traced his middle finger over the soft angle of Finn’s triceps, it sent prickling awareness up and down Finn’s arm.

He wondered if maybe Chloe was right, and he did need to get out more often, possibly on weekend trips… to Chicago.

“I’m okay,” Finn said, stopping that thought dead in its tracks. “Truly, it hasn’t been that bad. Only one person asked about me with my dead name, and Chloe’s been handling it flawlessly. In a way, it’s been nice seeing how everyone is doing without having to make the whole conversation about me.”

As they got closer to the point where Brad would have to break off to follow Chloe, he pressed his thumb into a surprisingly tender spot on the side of Finn’s arm. He let out a soft groan and leaned all his weight into Brad.

Brad pulled them to a stop and rubbed his arm for another few blissful seconds. “I sometimes hold tension in my upper arms, as well as my shoulders and back,” Brad explained as he dragged his hand up and rubbed two of his fingers into the corner of Finn’s delts.

He and Chloe had been rather abysmal at bio, but Finn had been a wiz at anatomy. He enjoyed learning about how his body worked, even if it would take him years to fully come to terms with it.

“God, you are tense,” Brad said as he put his hand back on Finn’s shoulder.

Before Finn could say that, in fact, this was the best he’d felt in months, and would Brad perhaps be willing to rub his other arm—and then his entire body—Brad reached across Finn’s chest to grab his cup.

“Why don’t you take a breather? I’ll grab drinks for me and Chloe and hang with her for a bit. You can come find us when you’re ready?”

Brad took off for the bar before Finn could object.

Finn wandered around, almost as if on autopilot, eavesdropping on a few conversations, before his legs carried him towards the exit on the opposite side of the gym.

Maybe he could use a little fresh air. He hadn’t been lying to Brad when he said he wasn’t doing too badly, but with every step he took away from Brad’s side, tension crawled back into his shoulders and chest.

As if doomed to repeat everything that happened all those years ago, a blur of color nearly slammed into him as he approached the exit.

“Oh! So sorry,” the person said.

Finn reached out and grabbed their arm, noting the “he/they” name tag clipped on their purse. The rest of their name tag, of course, said “Atlas.”

Atlas looked at Finn, surprise morphing into curiosity as they gave Finn a quick once-over, eyes lingering on Finn’s name tag. Finn used that time to do the same, taking in the shaved sides of Atlas’ blonde hair, as well as their royal blue silk pant suit and sparkling high heels.

“Do I…know you?” they asked.

That weight appeared on his tongue so fast, he barely got his words out. “You did,” he managed to say.

Atlas tipped their head to the side, and a small smile pulled at the corner of their lips. “Well, yes, that does seem to be the common theme of the day.”

Finn shifted his jaw back and forth, attempting to dislodge his anxiety for even a moment.

His eyes drifted over Atlas’ shoulders, and he jerked back in surprise.

There, on the wall in front of him, was a collage of blown-up yearbook photos: candid shots of various clubs, teams, and groups.

Right at eye level was a giant photo of them from senior year.

Chloe was using Cory’s shoulders to jump in the air in celebration, her blonde ponytail flying up above her head.

Brad had one hand on Kendall’s hip, steadying her where she sat on his shoulders, and his other hand was lifting Finn’s arm in the air like he had been the one to throw the winning pass.

The football coach could be seen in the corner of the photo, but for some reason, the cameraman had zoomed in on Finn and his little group. His little found family.

Atlas turned and followed his gaze, their eyes roving over the picture before turning back to Finn. “Oh,” they breathed.

Finn could do nothing but stare at the photo.

“I like the name Finn,” Atlas said, their loud, flamboyant voice much softer, almost reverent. “I think it fits you much better than your old one.”

Finn swallowed, and some of the words he’d been holding inside tumbled out. “I’ve wanted to thank you for so many years. I don’t really do social media, and I never got your number. I’m sure I could have had Chloe track you down; she’s pretty good at that, but…”

Atlas gazed at him, their expression warm and patient as Finn fought to line up his thoughts again. Sometimes it felt like his brain was full of unruly preschoolers, and he was the poor substitute teacher desperately trying to get them to stay in a line.

“But…I haven’t stayed in touch with anyone except Chloe and Kendall,” he continued. “I don’t even talk to my dad anymore. But you…I would have stayed in touch with you. That talk we had at the playground changed my life.”

At Atlas’ wide-eyed expression, Finn curved his shoulders forward, as if he could hide his shame the way he used to be able to hide in loose sweatshirts and baggy tees.

“I came out to myself by the end of the summer,” Finn said, taking their silence as permission to keep going. “It took me several years to transition socially—and then almost a decade to get on T and do surgery and stuff—but I credit you and that conversation for getting me started.”

Atlas’ cheeks tinged pink, and they shuffled their high-heeled feet. “I’m glad I could help—even if I’m pretty sure you did all the work. I was mostly just there to listen.”

Their gaze traveled back to the photo wall. Finn didn’t immediately spot Atlas in any of the photos, but he thought he saw the football player from the bar, Miles, in the photo Atlas was looking at.

“I came out to Brad last night,” Finn found himself saying. “I heard him and Miles talking at the bar, and we struck up a conversation.”

Maybe it was the same reason Finn always felt safer having tough conversations when he was riding shotgun in Chloe’s car. It was easier to spill his guts when he didn’t have to look at the person.

“One thing led to another, and it turns out we’re staying in hotel rooms across from each other.

He…tried to kiss me,” Finn said. He glanced at Atlas, happy to see they were still facing the wall.

With a start, Finn realized this was how that first conversation had gone, too.

Atlas had steadfastly faced forward on the swings, giving Finn the space he and his brain often needed.

“And did you let him?” they asked.

“I ended up spending two hours coming out to him and sort of trauma dumping all over him,” Finn said, regret making his words fall heavy between them.

Atlas breathed sharply out through their nose. “Well, if I remember anything about you, Finn, it’s that you don’t tend to burden others.”

Finn didn’t know what to say to that. His eyes slowly roved over some of the other pictures of various teams and clubs.

“So, after you came out to him…did you kiss?” Atlas asked, a bit of their flamboyant sass coming back into their voice.

Finn sighed, sorry to have to disappoint them. “No. Our only kiss is still the one from Cory’s basement–which, as you remember, didn’t go anywhere.”

Atlas cocked their head. “I’m not surprised it didn’t go anywhere, though. You were both still figuring yourselves out. At that exact moment, you were a closeted gay trans man kissing a—making assumptions here, but—closeted bi man. Of course it wasn’t going to work.”

Finn grimaced. Brad had been very open about his sexuality with Miles, Finn, and Chloe, so he hoped it was okay that Finn was confiding in Atlas.