Story Orgy's anthology is out...today!!!!!! Word Play is five terrific stories ... a little something for everyone ...
Off the Beaten Path
JR Boyd
Best Friends and landscaping entrepreneurs, Mitch Sterling and Colby Merritt, enjoy their comradeship. Can scouting country roads for business opportunities unveil a lifetime of passion?
The Park at Sunrise
Lee Brazil
First they were three, now there are two. Can Jason and Morgan make a relationship work without Paul?
Wicked Reflection
Hank Edwards
A sexy, bad boy neighbor, a handsome detective investigating an unsolved murder, and a ghostly warning help Kirk uncover the deadly secret within his new house.
Harlan's Ryde
Havan Fellows (me!!!)
Ryder made a mistake Harlan can't forgive. Will Ryder cross a line no man should cross to obtain a second chance?
Harper's Discovery
Em Woods
When Harper finally sees the light and dumps his cheating boyfriend, can Pitt convince Harper to trust him enough to let it all go?
The first chapter from Harlan's Ryde
Chapter One
Harlan
Mychels grabbed sodas out of the fridge for him and his man. He loved saying
that. His hot-as-all-get-out, buff, and delicious man. He sneaked a peek into
the living room at the man in question, Ryder Halloway.
Harlan
couldn't believe his luck as to have Ryde's attention, not because of any
college status scale, or because of his Roman-gladiator build, or even because
Harlan lacked self-esteem—which he didn't; realists ran in his family. No, he
couldn't believe it because Ryder had never hung around Harlan's crowd; they
attended the same university, but they ran in different circles. Harlan didn't
even know that he blipped on Ryder's screen until the day that Ryde had
approached him with the charming line, "Yep, I'm taking you out to dinner
tonight. Hope you do Thai, and me." Then the smirk came and down Harlan
went. Figuratively, not literally—well, not that night, at least. He couldn't
even get pissed at Ryde's audacity; that smirk gave him a free pass. It
flustered Harlan so badly he had jotted down his phone number with a pathetic
doodled heart on Ryder's hand, then gone home and sat by the phone waiting.
That
happened six months ago, six of the best damn months of Harlan's life. He
looked forward to the next six months, hell, the next six years. He knew a
keeper when he saw one; he could feel it. Today, here, now—time for this
discussion had come. He returned to the couch and looked into his soulmate's
eyes. No matter how corny it sounded, Harlan was positive.
They
drank their sodas and discussed inconsequential items, the nice easy banter
that doesn't fill up the silence but enriches it. Then he did it. He faced
Ryder on the couch, took his hand, and let it rip. "Ryder, half a year,
you and me for a half a year." He swung his pointer finger between them
and smiled. "That isn't a long time for people just starting their adult
life. But long enough for me to know for
sure, this works. We work. When I wake up in the morning, I think of you. I have
to stop myself from calling you and hearing your voice. I make breakfast based
on your favorite things to eat. I get dressed according to what you like to see
me in, even if I don't plan on meeting you that day. When you aren't around, I
miss you, and when you are, I can't touch you, look at you, be close to you
enough." He stopped to catch himself before he started blubbering. He
aspired for maturity here. "What I'm trying to say is I love you, Ryder. I
want us to have a long, happy life together, and I think we should start that
life by finding an apartment of our own."
Harlan
sighed with relief that he had actually gotten through his spiel without making
an ass out of himself and smiled at Ryder. For all the doubts he had about
himself, this he didn't doubt. He knew in his heart how Ryder felt.
Seconds
turned to minutes, and his smile froze on his face. Why wasn't Ryder professing
his own love in return? He watched as the light left Ryde's eyes, as the smile
faded. What had he said wrong? Ryder loved him, he knew it; he just knew it.
Ryder
began to talk, but the visuals Harlan got from Ryder's face and body language
were so strong that he only caught half the words: drunk, wrestler, future,
fling, satisfied.
Finally
Ryder's ramblings stopped and they just sat there looking at each other.
The
silence between them was no longer amicable. Harlan ingested the words spoken,
his brain finally arranging them into the proper order. He didn't satisfy
Ryder. Ryder had sex with another man who did. Harlan felt his lips start to
tremble, felt the moisture pool in his eyes, and knew he had to get out of
there. He couldn't—no, he wouldn't—cry in front of the man he had just spilled
his heart out to.
One
fact was clear in his mind above everything else. His future didn't have six
more months, much less six more years. His future didn't have any more
anything.
He
dropped his half-empty can of soda on the table and watched it teeter, then
fall off the edge. He stood, using every ounce of strength not to fall the same
way that can of soda did. The pain shooting up his left side and landing in his
heart felt real. His heart pounded, thundering against his chest, threatening
to break right through. It felt real. But hey, everything healed in time.
Without
uttering a single word to Ryder, whether in retaliation to his confession or in
anger to his own hurt, Harlan made a beeline for the front door and out of
Ryder's life. He changed his phone number that very same night and instructed
his family not to pass any information either way. He transferred to the local
community college, needing the distance away from his first broken love to have
any hope in completing his studies. He had successfully blocked all means by
which Ryder could hurt him again...
