Page 5 of Finley
He’d been teaching at University of Central Florida for nearly eleven years, and was on track for tenure by next year if everything went according to plan. That meant he needed to be in class on time and do everything by the book from there on out. So he needed to hurry the hell up.
After years of study and dedication to his chosen profession, he was so close to finally having everything he wanted and had worked for. It was right there within sight, sitting on the horizon. The only thing missing was the person he wanted to share it with. But he wouldn’t think about that—not today.
He could worry about regrets later. At night, on his own, when the darkness surrounded him and he shut his eyes to think of the man he’d let go. Besides, he’d sent that note weeks ago and heard nothing in return.
So that was that.
Over.
Done with.
Time to move on already.It was obvious thathehad.
It was time to refocus.
That was easier said than done, though, when it came to Daniel Finley.
He couldn’t believe it’d been Daniel’s thirtieth birthday this month.Where did all that time go?He wasn’t exactly sure, but it had gone—slowly. And year after year, he’d thought of reaching out to the man. But as more time passed—and Daniel hadn’t returned home—a plausible reason had seemed harder to pinpoint. Until this month, and this milestone of a birthday, when he’d decidednow or neveror be done with it.
Foolishly, he hadn’t counted on the total rejection he would feel when he heard nothing back. It had occurred to him when he’d written that Finn might’ve moved on, and even though that possibility seemed healthy and natural, a small part of him had imagined that maybe he’d been waiting for him all those years too.
However, after days, then weeks, of no reply, it had become abundantly clear that the dream he’d clung to was nothing more than a delusion.
Daniel had done exactly what he’d hoped he would do: gone away to Chicago, finished his law degree,and, well, then he’d stayed there. So notexactlywhat Brantley had hoped.
But it was time to focus—and time for him to move on. He’d reached out and failed, and now he had to live with the consequences of his actions. Even if they had been well intended.
He chided himself as he glanced at his watch. Five minutes until the first exam. When he came to the door of his room, he mentally pushed aside the memory of the tall, blond student he’d met that first day of his scholastic employment. Then he promised himself that after today, he would no longer wonder where and what Daniel Finley was doing.
BRANTLEY SWUNG OPENthe door to the west hallway of the law building and stepped out of the temporary room his class had been moved to that morning.
What a damn mess.
Half the students hadn’t shown, and the ones who had made it had straggled in twenty minutes late. But he couldn’t fault them. At the last minute, his classroom had been changed and admin hadn’t posted a flyer to the door until ten minutes in. Either way, it wasn’t a great start to his day, his week, or his career at UCF.
He balanced his empty coffee mug on top of his leather binder and locked the door to his newly assigned room. As he did, he thought he heard a muttered “Fuck” come from behind him, so he turned and saw the back of a young man about to walk down the hall.
“Excuse me,” he said, and the guy’s feet froze in place. He probably thought he was about to get his ass handed to him for having cursed in front of his professor.
He slowly pivoted back to face him, and Brantley got his first good look.
He was an impressive height—that was for sure. Taller than he was by a few inches, the kid had to top at least six two. He had shoulder-length blond hair, which was currently pushed behind his ears, and the tone of his skin made it obvious that he spent many days down on the Florida beaches.
Wearing flip-flops, white board shorts with a blue stripe, and a navy-blue T-shirt, he was the very epitome of a beach boy—the exact opposite of Brantley—and he ticked every sun-kissed, hot, male fantasy Brantley had. But he wouldn’t let that piece of information be known. Not to one of his students.
“Can I help you?” he asked, realizing that while he’d been quickly looking his student over,hewas quite blatantly ogling him.
When the guy brought his gaze up to meet his, Brantley had to school his features because damn—he was blown away by the color of his eyes. They were brown, he was positive, but with the way the sun was streaming into the hall, they looked close to golden.
Needing to focus on anything other than the striking student in the empty hall, he looked to the door, ordered himself to get it together, and then pulled his lips into a tight line before returning his attention back to the young man. “Did you miss class?”
“Yeah, fuck,” the guy mumbled, and then winced.
Brantley had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling at his obvious concern—and foul mouth—and then shrugged.
“Sorry. Yeah, I guess I did.”
Brantley took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and he caught the way the man gripped the strap of his backpack a little tighter.