A to Z - 56. Chapter 56 Promises

March 17 – Friday

This week has not gone the way it was supposed to. Was I expecting a fairy tale? After Sunday, I'd hoped for better than this. Maybe happy endings don't really exist. Things could go really badly wrong. The reality is that I've pulled away from everyone, at least on the inside. All of my energy goes toward thinking. Plotting.

In some ways, the last two days have been almost normal – on the outside, at least. On the inside, nothing is normal. I'm happy, then sad, charged up, then depressed. I've been having bad dreams when I sleep – and I've been awake a lot at night. When I'm awake, my mind is going a mile a minute, thinking about the best thing to do.

Family Protective Services isn't done with me yet, even though my grey-suited stalker friends have disappeared. For now.

At track practice on Wednesday afternoon, I followed Zander when he wandered over to where Bruce Mack was trying to stretch out his badly pulled muscles from the day before. He’s been out of practices since he tried to show up Zander and me on Tuesday.

Bruce looked up and grimaced. “Trouble in paradise, faggots?” He tried to grin nastily.

“No. Everything’s just fine, Bruce.” Zander stated easily. “The judge dismissed your aunt’s case.”

Bruce stared. Now he knew that we knew.

“That was a really shitty thing you did, Bruce, I’m not gonna lie,” Zander went on, pretending to stretch next to him, “but I have just one question, Bruce. Why?” He let the question hang in the air for a moment. “Why? What in the world did I ever do to you?”

Bruce snorted. “You were born, faggot. You and your little butt buddy, and all the other queers in this world; you don’t deserve to live,” he spat out.

Zander recoiled at the venom in Bruce’s voice. I don’t think he expected it. Usually Zander seems to get along with everyone. It's as if he expects to be liked. Zander shook his head and muttered, “Come on Andy, let’s leave the asshole in peace.”

Bruce wasn't allowed to practice Wednesday, or Thursday, or today. He limped around Wednesday and yesterday, and did some jogging today, but Mr. Shanahan kept Bruce on the side most of the time. It must have hurt bad, and in some ways, I felt sorry for him. A little. Anyway, we haven’t had any other contact with him since Wednesday practice, so that’s fine by me.

Wednesday night, Garrett insisted we all go out to dinner to celebrate our big victory. We drove to some restaurant I'd never seen in the north end of town. I've never been in a place like that. I had to wear the best clothes I could find.

Zander insisted I try the steak, something I'd never eaten before. I don't think I've ever seen a piece of meat on my plate that big. The intense, juicy, savory flavor burst in my mouth, and for a moment I was lost in culinary glory. I didn't realize I was so hungry, because I started making short, delicious work of the food on my plate.

Partway through the meal, Garrett excused himself to take a call on his cell.

"Well, that was fast." I heard Garrett say as he slid back into his seat a few minutes later.

"What was that?" Monica inquired.

"That was Heidi Graber on the phone," he clarified. "She said the county filed a motion to appeal this afternoon."

Monica made a low whistle. "Whew, they're in a hurry."

Garrett nodded in agreement. "They asked for an expedited appeal date, too."

I finally broke in: "I'm sorry, but I don't understand. What happened?"

"The county has filed a motion to appeal Judge Harrison's decision before the State Superior Court. This means they think the Judge's ruling today should be reversed because of a flaw in the way he interpreted the law, or because of a mistake he might have made in procedure. If the county can persuade the Superior Court of either argument, the Judge Harrison's ruling today is set aside," Garrett explained carefully.

"What did he do wrong?" I asked. The wonderful restaurant food had turned to cardboard in my mouth. Suddenly, I felt hollow inside.

"Well, I don't think Judge Harrison did anything wrong, and I think his interpretation of the law was perfectly sound," Garrett replied confidently. "The county is likely to get a bloody nose on this one."

"But what if the county wins? Then what?" I persisted nervously.

"Well, the court can send the case back to Judge Harrison or to another county judge to hear the arguments all over again. That's often what happens when an appellant wins. Less often, the Superior Court overrules the county judge, and reverses the decision completely."

"Which means I would have to go with Ms. Chandler," I said quietly.

"That's not going to happen," Monica said firmly.

"But it could happen," I said sadly, "in theory."

There was a dark cloud over our table in the restaurant. The worry circuits in my brain were switched on at full power.

"Yes. It could happen. Theoretically," agreed Garrett. "But we have a long way to go before they even hear the case, and, as I said, I don't think the Superior Court is going to agree with the county at all."

"How long do we have?" Zander put in.

"Oh, well, a few weeks or so," Garrett said. "They asked for a fast-track process, so that's about the right timing, I think."

I had more reason to curse the County when we got home. Garrett thinks the appeal possibly means FPS might get access to the house again. They could come and do another inspection. The result? Zander and I are still sleeping apart.

Not that it would do much good, anyhow. I mean, I want Zander near me, next to me. But I'm just too focused on my own problems right now to be much good to him.

We tried to study together on Wednesday night, on the bed in what was Zander's room that I've taken over. I'm calling it our room from now on, even if we can't share the bed at night. We have to keep the door open, but we can still cuddle and curl up beside one another, unless FPS pays the house another visit. Then Zander will bolt for the door.

I didn't get much work done. Have I mentioned somewhere in here that Zander is beautiful?

At one point, I stopped pretending to read the English assignment and just I watched him, deep in concentration on a math problem. Zander has no idea how gorgeous he is. My heart just ached, because part of me wanted to be able to stretch out and snuggle down with him, cover him with kisses, and, yes, start getting under his clothes, too.

But then, my thoughts wandered to spend time with my anxiety, and the fear started all over again. I couldn't let myself give into my wants or my desires. I have to start letting go. What's it going to be like if one day I have to be marched into a waiting car and driven away to wherever FPS wants to send me?

Anyway, there hasn’t been a repeat of Sunday night. I've been just too damn angry and worried. What if we lose in the appeal court? What if FPS finds a way to pry me away from Zander? What if the grey-suits appear again? I've just had this sinking feeling that something really bad could happen. Maybe the universe was getting even with me for allowing myself to think I could actually be happy.

A long time after getting back from the restaurant, I finally finished my English homework. I closed up my text, and put away my notebook. Almost immediately, Zander set aside his math and brushed his lips against mine. I'd missed this all day. Soon, our arms were wrapped around each other. But once again, my fretful mind got to work. When he tried to deepen the kiss, I wouldn't let him, at least not at first. I'd been spending way too much time in my head since Monday.

Even so, I might have melted into Zander's lips, but a sharp clearing of the throat in the doorway interrupted us. "Boys, don't forget that you need to clean the bathrooms before you go to bed tonight," Monica reminded us. A tiny upturn at the corner of her mouth belied her serious expression. "And Andy, I thought you had Physics homework tonight, not Biology."

I blushed at that.

But the pleasant mood faded almost the moment we got ready for bed. Again, I got worried about what the next few weeks could bring. Alone in our room, I fretted about being torn away from this family and from the boy I love so much.

If the county was going to appeal, they'd start investigating. They'd find out my connection to Carlsberg. The police would arrive, and I'd be gone to jail, or worse, to Uncle Ray. Even if they didn't figure out who I really am, I'd still be a target for the grey-suited couple from FPS again. For weeks, months, maybe. For the millionth time, I considered the possibility of packing up and getting out. Maybe I could get Zander to run away with me? I imagined the two of us out on the road, on our own. I’d done it on my own, so it would probably be better with the two of us. But that would kill Zander’s dreams of going to college, of being an architect. And losing Zander would break Monica and Garrett’s hearts. They’d never forgive me.

Maybe there was something Judge Harrison could do?

I couldn't get comfortable, and I couldn't get my mind to stop spinning. Finally, I got up and padded downstairs. I floated through the kitchen but avoided a midnight snack. Eventually, I wandered into Garrett's study and switched on the lamp. I skimmed my fingers over the stacks of law books. Idly, I wondered in which volume the law about kids in my situation was located. I found the index volume and started looking.

Before long, I was absorbed in my search, trying to decode the legal language. I discovered the foundling statute and the fostering statute that had been referred to in court. I read them and re-read them, in order to make as much sense of the dense text as I could. At one moment, the regulations would seem quite clear; in the next, it would turn to thick mud. I could see how someone might try the appeal court, if only to see if they could get the other side to trip up.

I sat there on the floor, legs folded in front of me, a stack of law books at my elbow, when I heard a noise. I looked up, and there stood Garrett, wearing a surprised expression on his face.

"Well, hello there, Andy. Couldn't sleep either, huh?"

I shook my head.

"Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I try reading one of those," he gestured to the books on the floor. "They usually put me right out."

I started to get up. "I'm sorry, sir, I shouldn't have…"

Garrett made a face. "Stop it. I don't mind. You’re looking at books, not reading confidential files. If you can make sense of half of it, they'll make you a judge," he chuckled.

I nodded.

"So what part of the law are you investigating so seriously?" He reached to pick up a volume. "Aaaah, Volume XVII, family and adoptive law, part two. Working on your own case?"

I shrugged. "Maybe," I admitted.

"Well, don't let me stop you," he went on, "but I'm going to find an antacid tablet and a glass of milk. Let me know if you find something good." He moved to go.

"Sir? Um, Garrett?" I tried using his real name for the first time. "Thanks for not being mad." I gestured at all the books.

"Not at all," he grinned. "Just put them back – in order – when you're done. And before you fall asleep." He moved away.

Alone again. A clock ticked somewhere. The tiny sounds of Garrett trying to be quiet in the kitchen echoed faintly in the house.

I was tired of it all. Tired and fed up. For sixteen – nearly seventeen – years, I’d just let stuff happen to me. I’d just sat there and taken it. First my parents fighting and splitting, then Uncle Ray, then Dad’s routine violence and abuse, and then the daily humiliation of school. And when fate whacked me in the head again last May, well, I’d just taken that, too.

Maybe I had made a choice to run, but it seemed like I’d been just floating along a river of events. Fate had very kindly dropped me off in an eddy with the Stevenson family for a while, but now it was going to spin me out, back into the stream of events, courtesy of Ms. Chandler and her minions. They were going to make life hell for me – and for the Stevensons – and worst of all, for Zander – all over again.

I was sick of it. There in the quiet, book lined study, I decided not to float anymore. I was going to land the raft of my life, stand firmly on the shore, and build what I could on the solid ground. I was going to choose my own way. Period.

I stared at the book in my hand. Something nagged at the back of my brain. There had to be a simpler solution, one that cut through the legal swamp, and kept me out of Ms. Chandler’s hands, let Zander go to college, and kept the Stevenson family together. I was so tired, I kind of zoned out for a few seconds.

I blinked. Of course.

There was a simple, direct, straightforward solution. It had been staring me in the face for hours. My brain came alive again. Potentially, it would upset Garrett and Monica. No, it was actually very likely they’d be unhappy; I was sure of that. And I couldn't stand to think about what Zander might say. I tried not to. But it could work. And in the end, no matter what the Stevensons thought, they would see that my plan was the best one. No more legal battles; no more grey areas, no more hiding and dodging.

I spent several more hours thinking everything through, checking more books, mulling points over. I missed Zander that night, but now I had something concrete to think about. A plan.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much Wednesday night. When I did close my eyes, I had terrible dreams about Ms. Chandler and the grey suits snatching me away, stuffing me in a van, and turning me over to Uncle Ray.

Since Thursday morning, I've been pretty much living inside my head. Planning. I know I've been distant and wrapped up in my own thoughts since going to court. Zander sure noticed. Terry noticed. Even Kaz seems to have noticed. He gave me some really weird looks at lunch today.

But I've tried to keep it together on the outside.

Positively, school is going okay, at least enough so that I can manage the work. As of today, swim class is now officially over – Coach Simpson told me I'd passed my 'level three,' whatever that means. I'm never going to make the swim team, but I'm a better swimmer, I guess. And, strangely enough, it was fun, at least until I remembered the cloud I'm living under. This is what I call the 'Zander Effect' at work. Any experience is better; anything is tolerable with Zander there.

But I have never been far from the thought that all this could come crashing down in ten seconds, and then where would everyone be? That idea makes me sick. I don't want to face FPS, or the courts. And nobody is sending me back to Uncle Ray. I'll run before that happens.

On the normal side of things, the Track coach, Mr. Shanahan, wants me to be his ace sprinter. Kaz gloated and had an I-told-you-so grin pasted on his face all Thursday. Now I just have to find a field event to do, too. Apparently, Mr. Shanahan insists that everyone be able to do a track event and a field event. I think I might do the pole vault. I don't want to do the throwing stuff, and I don't want to compete with Zander in the jumps, so that narrowed my choices down quickly. That is, if I'm even around to compete at all.

As usual, I'm mixing this up again, getting ahead of myself.

I spent all Thursday and today pretty much deep in thought, looking for flaws and holes in my idea. I spent my lunch hour with Jeff Ellison: I had a couple of important questions he could clear up for me. I didn’t tell him anything, just asked him some questions. Apprehensively, I told Dr. O'Shea about my plan, about what I had figured out. She's the only one who knows. She was so surprised, she only asked two or three questions. At home, I was practically a hermit; my mind was that distracted. For the first time in months, I hardly registered Zander was there.

Today, I didn’t take much notice of my last day of swimming with Zander, or anything that happened in class. I used my study hall time and my computer class time for more research.

It looked like my idea ought to work. I've promised myself that it will.

I’m not going to jinx it by writing about it now – I’m too damn nervous that someone will find out and try and talk me out of it, or that it won’t work out the way I’m hoping. The only other person who knows what I’m doing is Dr. O’Shea; She can’t tell a soul – patient privacy laws and all that - and I tried to be deliberately vague about my plans, anyway. She wouldn't violate her doctor's oath, would she?

I really didn’t want to talk about that possibility, and I don’t want to think about it now. Starting this afternoon, I began to put my plan into action; there are still lots of things to do. By tomorrow, it should be complete.

(***)

The events of the week had you rattled, and you kept your distance.

It wasn't me – us – getting outed at school. Honestly, I'd expected a lot worse. Bruce Mack was the most outspoken of anyone at school. There were a few others who said shit under their breath, but I couldn't tell you who they were. But after Bruce set off his bomb in the cafeteria on Monday, life at school had been kind of strange. No violence, no hazing, but some people seemed more distant. Others looked at you and me in a different way, I could tell. Against that, none of the teachers uttered a peep, though it seemed Mr. Warfield and Mrs Landon actually tried to go out of their way to be pleasant in class. Nick Lewis made a point to pull me aside and tell me he didn't give a shit I was gay. Not long after that, a couple of guys from the swim team did the same thing. Said they thought Bruce was an asshole and way out of line. By the end of the week, it was clear we'd be in for some stupid jokes, but most people didn't seem to care too much.

But you had me seriously worried.

You withdrew. It wasn’t rocket science. We hadn’t kissed since Wednesday. Something was going on behind the smile that forgot to include your eyes; you were in some inner dialogue with yourself, and it wasn’t often that you looked me in the eye and remembered where you were.

By Friday, I could hardly reach you at all.

For the first time, I was really scared. It occurred to me that maybe you’d had enough of me, enough of the drama and the scent of danger. Maybe you wanted out; or worse, maybe you wanted someone else, someone less toxic than me.

That thought made me numb. I hardly noticed all the stupid St. Patrick’s Day garbage at school. Could it be that you were getting ready to leave? Find another boy?

On that Friday after our day in court, I kept looking at other guys, wondering which one was the boy you wanted instead of me. There was that kid you met at Nick’s party – Jeff? You’d told me about him. Then on Friday afternoon, you took off with him, getting out of track practice early on some mysterious errand. Was he the one? It was stupid, I know that now, but you know what happens when we listen to our fears. We do stupid things.

When you mentioned that you’d be getting home late on account of your errand, I snapped at you: “Whatever. Be on time for supper.”

I could tell you were hurt and surprised.

At track practice, I made sure to run with some of the other guys. I left you to stretch by yourself. You could have that Jeff kid you were getting together with. God, I was stupid.

After supper, when you tried to get on our bed to do homework, I complained that I needed space and privacy to do some art stuff. You didn’t call me on it. Instead, you just stood silently and went into your room next door.

Mom and Dad had been keeping us apart – just in case of a surprise inspection, they said – and it was so hard to sleep that night. I was mad at you and jealous of whoever had your attention. I was ashamed of being an asshole to you and wanted to beg you to forgive me. We could start over, and everything would be okay. Then I got all jealous again.

Once I got out of bed to walk down the hall so we could have it out – clear the air – but I chickened out. I was worried you’d pick up your pack, walk out the door and never come back.

I don’t know when I slept. It was later on Saturday morning when the phone rang on the bedside table. Kaz on phone.

“Zander, buddy, you gotta come out running with me. It’s a beautiful day,” the voice of my oldest friend boomed out of the speaker.

“Kaz, you know what time it is?” I croaked.

“It’s almost nine thirty, it’s getting late,” he said.

“We had practice yesterday,” I groaned.

Kaz never gives up, and I knew I was going to go running. It was just like me to try to delay the inevitable. He coaxed, and wheedled, and eventually got me meet him at school. He gave me thirty minutes.

I threw on some running clothes and headed downstairs. You weren’t in the room – our room – and the bed was neatly made. Mom informed me that you were at work this morning, and I sourly reflected that you often were. You hadn't left me a note or anything. I remember guzzling down some juice and dashing out the door.

It had been ages since Kaz and I had gone running together, just the two of us. I realized I’d missed this. We greeted each other briefly at the school, and we were soon stretching and jogging along, as if nothing had happened since last September.

Kaz set a slow, even pace, and we ran steadily along the streets toward the south end of town. The air had a hint of real warmth, and snow was all gone, though the grass hadn’t greened up much.

Kaz was in a talkative mood. He always talks when we run, but he was chattier than usual. For a while he just went on and on about this and that. He never tires of conversation in motion, it’s just his way. Once we were well out of town, Kaz changed his tone.

“What the hell is going on with you and Andy? he demanded.

Suddenly, the conversation had gone serious.

“What?” I said, dumbly.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Zander, you know what I’m talking about,” Kaz returned.

I couldn’t remember him talking to me like this before. Last spring and summer, when I shut just about everyone out, Kaz had just shrugged it off, waiting for me to get over myself. Now I realized that he deserved an honest answer.

“You can tell, can't you?"

“Jesus, yes. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” I complained. “I just know that things haven’t felt right all week. It’s gotten worse since we went to court on Wednesday.”

“Well, how are things wrong?” Kaz asked patiently.

“I wonder if I haven’t messed things up," I finally admitted.

“Messed up how?”

“I don’t know. But…you and Terry ever fight?”

“Yeah, once or twice. You have a fight?” Kaz countered.

“Not exactly. But something isn’t right, and…well, I’ve been frustrated. He won’t talk to me about it. And…I was kind of an asshole to him yesterday.”

“Have you tried talking it out? That’s what me and Terry do.”

“No,” I admitted, ashamed. “I’m afraid. Afraid of what I might find out.”

“Like what?” asked Kaz.

“Like I think he’s found someone else. I’m afraid he doesn’t want me anymore, and I’m too damned scared to hear it. And I’m jealous as hell of whoever it is he wants instead of me.” I unburdened myself to my best friend, but I was scared as hell to hear what he would say.

We ran on in silence for a maybe fifty yards.

Then Kaz started to laugh. It started as a little chuckle, but it quickly expanded into a full grown belly laugh. Kaz laughed so hard he actually had to stop running and bend over and brace himself.

I stood there, glaring. What the hell was so funny?

“You’re kidding, right?” Kaz gasped, finally getting his breathing under control.

Angrily, I shook my head. “No, I’m serious.”

Kaz stood up, stepped closer to me, and put his huge hands on my shoulders. From his towering height, he looked down at me in the eye.

“You realize you’re my best friend, right?” he said.

I nodded.

“And you realize you’re an idiot, right?”

I lifted an eyebrow.

“That boy has been in love with you since you met in the locker room last fall,” Kaz stated flatly. “There may be something on his mind, but he hasn’t changed his mind about you.”

“How do you know?”

“It takes a man in love to know another. I don’t have to be gay to figure this one out, Zander.”

“What about that Jeff kid?” I asked weakly.

Kaz waved that idea away. “You gotta be kidding. He’s only doing for that poor kid what you or I would have done in his place. He’s being a friend to someone who needs one. He’s being himself – a great guy – just like you.”

I looked down at my feet. I felt so ashamed. “I know I’ve been an asshole. You think I’ve been pissed over nothing?”

“Uh-huh, that’s exactly what I think. Jesus, Zander, you’re the luckiest gay guy in the world. Your boy loves you, and you better believe it.”

Kaz was smiling at me when I looked back up at him. “So what do I do?”

“You go home, and you tell him you love him. Tell him that you’ve been an asshole and that you need to talk things out. I swear, it’ll be all hearts and flowers in an hour.”

Somehow, his words just blew away the storm clouds that had buffeted my heart for the past few days. Kaz made it sound so easy. And I could trust Kaz – he wasn’t stupid. Best of all, he really believed everything would work out. This was my oldest friend talking, and he was making sense. Why hadn’t I done this before?

I gave Kaz a playful shove. “Hearts and flowers, my ass,” I started to laugh, “you’re not gay enough to know about hearts and flowers.”

We took our time coming back.

We stopped in at Kaz’s house, grabbed something to eat and drink, messed around in the basement, and so on. A couple of hours slipped by. I practically forgot that I had to get home. I had a mission, and it was going to be accomplished. We’d get to the bottom of things easily enough, and then it would be smooth sailing.

Except that, as I made my way home across town, I started having doubts again. What was bothering you? Were you getting ready to be rid of me? Maybe Kaz was full of it and just blowing smoke, trying to make me feel good.

I got home and headed straight for the shower. I remembered the kisses we’d shared. The feel of your body against mine. I felt myself harden just thinking about it. Shit. Time to get dry and find you. Find out what the real truth is.

In the kitchen, I found Mom, working on a project of some kind.

“Hey Mom, where’s Andy?”

“He came home from work while you were out, but I haven’t seen him lately. Isn’t he in his room?”

You weren’t in our room, but I realized I hadn’t checked the guestroom – your original room. I dashed upstairs and looked in, but the room stood empty and silent. I checked my temporary quarters down the hall – empty, too. I peered in my parents’ room – nothing. Now I was worried. Back downstairs, I tried the living room, peeked in Dad’s study, looked quickly around the dining room – nope. I wondered if you were in the basement, doing laundry, so I headed down there. But it was quiet and dark there, too.

I got a sudden chill. You’d decided to take off. Were you running away? Running to someone else? Dashing up the stairs, I pulled my cell out of my pocket and called your number. Distantly, I heard your phone ring up in our room. But you weren’t there.

Where the hell were you?

Now I was seriously afraid. What was I going to do without you?

I had one other idea. Hurriedly, trying not to panic, I pushed my way out the back door, not even putting on my jacket. I strode across the driveway and pulled open the barn door.

And there you were. Seated on the hay, facing away.

You turned, looked over your shoulder at me, and smiled. My heart surged. It was a real smile, the smile I’d fallen in love with. Maybe Kaz was right after all.

You motioned for me to come sit by you on the straw. Nothing would have stopped me. I wanted to wrap you up in a huge hug, but I hesitated to do that. We had to talk.

“Hey.” You sounded almost shy.

“Hey, yourself. Where were you?”

“At work. Doing stuff in town. Here,” you said softly, patting the spot next to you.

“We need to talk, Andy.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I haven’t been good to you this week.” I heard you say.

“Not good to me? You’ve been…” I started.

“No, don’t. I’ve been… preoccupied by…a lot of things.”

My protests died in my throat. You were right, of course. “Me, too.”

You looked up at me, confused.

Time to clear the air. “I’ve been scared, Andy. You haven’t been talking to me, not at all. We haven’t been together enough. And…and I know I’ve been a jerk to you,” I began.

“Scared? What were you scared of?”

I looked down, still ashamed.

“I thought that maybe…with that Jeff kid…I was getting jealous. I thought maybe you didn’t want me anymore,” I finally got it out.

Unlike Kaz, you didn’t laugh. I felt your hand on the back of my neck. I turned to you, saw your eyes, and then I felt your lips on mine, and you were kissing me. Warmly, tenderly, as if our kisses could wash away all my fears. When the kiss broke, you held me there, our foreheads touching.

“You really thought I’d give you up for someone else?” you asked.

“I was stupid. I didn’t know what to think. Maybe you were getting ready to bolt, or maybe you wanted…oh hell, Andy, I don’t know. You wouldn’t talk, or touch, or anything. I was afraid you’d had enough of me. I’m sorry for being such an idiot.” And we embraced again.

“It’s okay,” I heard you murmur into my ear. Since when do you get to comfort me? It’s supposed to be the other way around, isn’t it?

I thought we’d go back to kissing, but you had more to say. You let me go, and immediately the world felt a little colder.

“Zander, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” you began.

I didn’t like the sound of that.

“And I did some research, and well, I’ve been busy getting some things ready."

I definitely did not like this at all. What did those kisses mean?

But you were still speaking. "I’m sorry I worried you. And you're right, we should have been talking about this, but I wanted everything to be all prepped before we started, and I know I should have talked to you about this sooner, but…” you started to talk faster, so I put my finger on your lips to slow you down.

“Just tell me, Andy. Do you love me still?”

And you smiled your best smile, “Yes, Zander. You know I love you.” And I did know.

“Okay then. Everything is going to be okay.”

And your smile got even wider, and you pulled our foreheads together again. The barn smelled of hay and animals. You took a deep breath. Time stood still and nothing mattered but you and me. Then you spoke.

“Zander? Will you marry me? Please?”

At first I wasn’t sure I heard you right. I pulled back, surprised, and searched your eyes for a few seconds. “You want me to marry you?”

Your smile was still there. You meant it. “Please marry me, Zander.”

“Yes.” The word was out in an instant. What else could I say? This was you asking – and I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. My arms were wrapped around you again. “Yes, Andy, I’ll marry you. Yes. Yes, forever.”

And then we were kissing again, and it was better than before. Hot, blazing, kisses, tongues battling, passion rising. But then you stopped and left me breathless.

“Shit. I’m doing this wrong,” I heard you mutter.

I didn’t know how anything could be wrong. You still loved me, and your kisses were perfect. I saw you reach into your pocket for something. A small red velvet bag. My face must have shown my confusion.

“I forgot the most important part,” you said to me, apologetically. You drew out two beautiful silver rings. Now I understood. Now it felt absolutely real. Not theoretical at all. I felt you take my left hand. “Now, Zander Stevenson. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Andy Stevenson. I’ll marry you.” And a ring slipped onto my finger, perfectly.

Kaz wasn’t completely right. It wasn’t hearts and flowers. It was rings.