The Crush Revisited

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

“Wake up. Brandon, wake up.”

“Just a minute more, Ma,” Brandon mumbled, turning his face into his soft, squishy pillow. “I won’t be late for school.”

She chuckled. “You’ve got that right.” She shook him roughly.

Brandon opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He blinked, trying to get rid of the blurriness, but it didn’t work. He turned his head and reached for his glasses from the bedside table and put them on.

No mother stood over him. Of course not. She’d been gone for three years. There had to be some weird psychological reason he still dreamed of his dead mother instead of some hot guy or something, but Brandon didn’t know what it was.

He got out of bed and pulled on his robe against the chill in the room. It probably wasn’t that cold by most people’s standards, but he’d lived in Northern California all his life and didn’t do well with cold. The thought of snow made him shudder even if he got to wear cute little ski outfits. Not worth the misery.

Padding out to the kitchen in his slippers to make coffee, Brandon flipped on every light switch. He hated living by himself but couldn’t think what he was supposed to do to change that.

The house in Lincoln Hill was the one he’d grown up in, the one his mom had spent years trying to make a home for the two of them. She’d struggled as a single mother. Brandon had never known his father. According to his mom, the guy who had impregnated her hadn’t wanted to have anything to do with either of them. His loss, they both thought.

His mom had paid for their home with her catering business. It was probably too big for just Brandon, and he’d considered renting it out to someone else and moving to an apartment or something. But in the end, he liked where he was. He still felt his mom’s presence, still liked the traces of her in the home.

He poured hazelnut creamer in his coffee and then took the mug to the living room, where he’d left yesterday’s mail and some paperwork he’d received from work. He sat on the pink couch, which he and his mother had picked out together just months before her death, and sorted through the mail. Brandon paused at the one from the Lincoln Hill High School Reunion Committee. All in caps, he didn’t fail to notice.

As if all the bullies he’d known in his life were suddenly in the living room with him, taunting him, Brandon’s stomach clenched and bile rose to his throat. His hand shook holding the envelope. Lincoln Hill High had been hell for him ten years ago. He’d been dorky and skinny with glasses, braces, and acne. The only thing that had saved him from being totally ostracized and ridiculed was that no one had known he was also gay.

Tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth, he tore open the envelope and removed a fancy color brochure from the Lincoln Hill River Resort.

“s**t,” he muttered before reaching for the letter that accompanied the brochure.

His high school reunion was to be held at the resort—his place of work—Memorial Day weekend.

Besides the letter and brochure, there was a price list and another list of activities being arranged by the resort for the alumni.

He tossed it next to him on the couch and then reached for the documents his boss had given to him yesterday. Brandon hadn’t had time to read them, but he knew they concerned a big event that had been booked.

“f**k me,” Brandon said. Sure enough, the event booked at the resort was the Lincoln Hill High School Reunion. He’d be working to ensure his former classmates had a great time.