A new adventure with some recurring and favorite themes. This project began during the pandemic as a collaboration with a friend so it comes from two different and overlapping points of view of its story line. I'm Grady and my cohort writes the part of Hollywood icon Ryan Phillippe as we navigate the end of prep school and are reunited about a dozen years later. While some of the places depicted are real, it goes without saying that this work is pure fiction and not meant to project, construe or support any assertion about the private lives of any of the characters portrayed within the story. Outside of the public figures, all of the characters in this story are fictional and resemblance to any one person whether dead or alive is purely coincidental. Lastly, please consider making a donation to Nifty to maintain this website. Feedback is welcome.
Matthew Phillips I
In that instant, I knew that Grady still had feelings for me that ran deep--I knew that I at least had a chance. But I also noticed his jaw tense back up as he kept his eyes on the game; his eyes tracking every move. I could almost see the calculations he was making on the fly.
Grady always had an incredible talent for analytics which had amazed me back in school; left brain versus right brain I guess. Clearly he had honed it over the years to an even higher level. Was he calculating a mental spreadsheet on whether to let me back in; or worse, did he have an actual spreadsheet with cell-level algorithms that he would later populate to decide our future? I needed to up my game!
After a few minutes of us sitting silently next to each other, I heard him softly speak. In a barely audible whisper, he said, "We should go somewhere and talk, there are things I need to hear and things that need to be said."
I understood then that he wasn't going to just leap into my arms. He wasn't going to make this easy. He needed assurances that I wasn't going to bolt like I did before and disappear for a decade. Then he gut-punched me with the 'do I need to sign an NDA dig.' That hurt. I took a deep breath as I began to understand the weight he carried on his shoulders since that moment in the boathouse. I knew I couldn't roll back the clock, but I was committed; I was going to make this work. I needed to rebuild trust and so I readily agreed to talking with him on his terms.
We made our way back to the parking lot and I leaned up against the back of his Outback while he changed from "spectator" gear into "dinner attire"--slowly stripping out of his shirt right in front of me. Damn, he had matured incredibly. My eyes traced up the deep grooves of his abs as his shirt rose. I smirked as he slowly pulled it off over his head--remembering how we both used to treat each other to "free views" of each other's bodies as we changed in the locker room.
I didn't even bother trying to hide the fact that I was enjoying seeing him half naked after all these years. It took all my willpower not to reach out to trace his exposed obliques. He called me out on it, asking if "I enjoyed the show" and I shamelessly confessed; but since he asked, I turned on the charm, grinning "Yes, but surely you're going to change out of those Hawaiian shorts!"
Actually I was ecstatic that he wanted to put on the show, another good sign as Grady took us to a small, out of the way bar. The whole ride over I just wanted to reach out and touch him, but I didn't think I had earned that yet, so I kept my hands to myself and made small talk along the way. The server practically tackled him as he came inside before she insisted that I looked like Ryan Phillipé --I made my stock joke about being his stunt double and laughed it off. It never ceases to amaze me how people readily accept that.
Grady ordered us some beers and an appetizer--hummus; and he gives me shit about being a tofu-plant-based-totally-capital V vegan? I mouthed "wings" to Rene and she hooked us up. Then the inquisition started--my marriage, the kids, work. I freely shared, wanting to get it all out on the table. Reese and I did have a whirlwind romance and marriage -- the kids quickly followed. But she could sense that I wasn't completely committed -- tough when you're constantly thinking about a guy from high school.
It was a cathartic discussion to say the least. On both sides I think. I didn't hold anything back -- freely sharing all of my thoughts, fears, obsessions over the past decade. Grady was completely open--as he'd always been. One thing for certain, Grady always knew what he wanted and where he was going. There was a simple certainty to everything he did. It made my stomach churn to hear and finally understand the pain I caused him -- bolting from Mayo like I did and never looking back. All I could think to do was to slide my ankle over against his as he spoke, as a sign that I cared. I saw him flinch a little as he felt the contact -- but thank god he didn't pull away...baby steps.
As we wound down dinner, I started to feel anxious--was the evening going to end here, would we say good-bye and that would be it; over, done...see ya. But then Grady surprised me by asking my plans for the night--at first a very non-committal "what's your plan". I made it clear that I was wide open--no commitments. I held my eyes locked on his as I responded, sending the strongest telepathic message I could to say "please let this keep going."
It was beginning to seem like the spreadsheet would rule in my favor when he offered to hit the city and of course I leapt at the opportunity. I simply said, "Cool, let's go to the city"--but I was smiling ear to ear. I didn't even ask which city, hopefully he meant DC, not Baltimore. Candidly I didn't give a fuck where we were going as long as we were going together.
As we started to pull out of the parking lot, Grady looked over at me and we locked eyes. Even after a decade, I could see in his eyes that he was letting himself be happy. I instinctively broke out in my signature smile which triggered the familiar grin he had always given me when he would spy me anywhere on campus. My was heart pounding, hoping I wasn't going to fuck this up yet again. I reached over as he shifted gears to put my hand over his. My eyes locked on him from the side, while his were focused on the road--I could see the wheels churning as he processed his response. In the end though, he kept his hand on the shifter letting my hand rest lightly on top. More baby steps.
We rode like this for a while--it was intoxicating just to be touching him...feeling the warmth, feeling the muscles flex in his hand as he shifted--my head was spinning every bit as much as it was over a decade ago in the boathouse when we briefly held each other. I would have been happy just driving forever, my hand on his. But the whole time I felt this pressure building up inside me. I felt like I hadn't really said what I wanted to say at dinner, the way I wanted to say it; the way I'd been practicing for years, every time I talked to him'in my mind.
Shifting in the seat, I turned a bit, facing him while pulling my left leg up a bit as he drove. As I did, I pulled his hand to my leg, resting it half in my hand, half just on top of my knee. He didn't pull back...but then he didn't move it either. He just let it rest there. Then I just cut loose, pouring out my heart...my thoughts...my feelings. It all just burst forth while Grady drove, and listened.
"Look, I already said I came to Mayo for you. I meant that. I came to the east coast this time for you. I've thought this through. I know in my heart what I want--I want this, an us; you and me, a chance at Grady and Matthew," I said that with all the firmness and conviction I owned.
"I'm sorry about how things unfolded at the boathouse and how I reacted afterwards. I can't turn that back, God I wish I could. I panicked. I was scared. Christ Grady, we were both kids. After I left, I just tried to push it out of my mind--it wasn't the best way to deal with it, but that's what I did. That's why I didn't reach out. I've thought about it and replayed it over in my mind thousands of times, wishing I had been a man about it," I said with the pain and sorrow that I carried through the years.
"I didn't just lure you into the boathouse for a grope and get our rocks off sort of thing. I wanted you there because I wanted us to be totally alone, together. Honestly, I think...no, I know...I've been struck by you from the second you bounced out of the car your freshman year--`Grady, Grady McBride,'" I mimicked, "I can't explain it, but I know it. And as we got to know each other, the feelings only deepened in intensity. I wanted to kiss you in the boathouse because that is the most intimate act for me."
"I know you need to process all this. It's been over a decade. I surprised you, coming out of nowhere. I understand it won't be as easy as flipping a switch. But I hope, God I desperately hope, that you want the same. I hope you can find it in your heart to try, no matter how long it takes--because I am."
That I said as a simple promise. Then I stopped. Something had changed. What was it? I tried to figure it out--but something wasn't computing. Then it dawned on me--my hands.
Somewhere in the last few minutes, I'd started talking with my hands. Both of them now hung in the air in front of me. But...that meant...my hand was no longer holding his. I held my breath. My heart pounded. I didn't dare look down. Then, ever so slightly I felt it. I held my breath. Then I felt it again. The flicker of his fingers on my thigh. His hand was still there, touching me. Did I imagine it? Or was he really rubbing? Then I felt his fingers move again. More firmly, ever so slightly, but they definitely moving...rhythmically...back and forth. Baby steps again.
I shuddered, and let out a huge sigh. Grady smiled, glanced at me briefly before refocusing on the road, and gave my quad a tighter squeeze. I felt a huge wave of relief wash across me--maybe this was going to work. I didn't even care that I was heading into the city with no way to get back to my car, or home, or that I didn't even have a toothbrush.