Rock, Paper, Scissors by Shannon M. Kirkland
Categories: Contemporary Romance | Gay
Word Count: 14,746 Heat Rating: 2 Price: Free Available here:
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Each year the M/M Romance Group on Goodreads sponsors a writing event. This is my submission for the 2015 Love is an Open Road event.
I would love to receive your feedback. Please email me at [email protected] and visit my website, www.shannonmkirkland.weebly.com. PHOTO DESCRIPTION: A man is leaning forward, holding a child piggyback-style. He is kissing another man who is leaning out of a sliding glass doorway, bracing his hands on the frame. The child’s eyes are looking over the man’s shoulder, observing the exchange, with a smile that looks to be the beginning of a giggle. STORY LETTER: Dear Author, My mother left when I was a few days old, it was only daddy and me for years. Then he met and fell in love with Jim*. It wasn’t easy; there weren’t many families like ours back then. All of the hardships were worth it though, because today is the day I’m officiating the marriage of the two men I called my dads. I want you to write their story; whether it be contemporary and/or historical, or whether it revolves around on the child(ren) and/or the couple. Sincerely, MC Houle |
Chapter One - Fortunate Meetings
“Hi! I’m Brandon!”
I’d smiled at the little boy before settling in the chair at the table next to him with my coffee and bagel. He was sitting alone and toying with his bagel, although it was obvious from the abandoned coffee cup and half-eaten bagel on the other side of the table that he was here with an adult.
“Hi, Brandon, I’m Jim,” I replied.
“I can’t decide if I want butter or cream cheese on this half,” he declared.
“What did you have on the other half of it?”
“Cream cheese and it was really good, but I like butter too.”
“Hmmm… that is a dilemma. Tell you what, we’ll play Rock, Paper, Scissors. If I win, it’s cream cheese, and if you win, it’s butter.”
“You know Rock, Paper, Scissors? My dad and I play that all the time!”
“Okay, here goes… One… Two… Three…”
“Scissors,” he exclaimed, jumping in a second before I chose paper.
“Looks like it’s butter then!”
“Good, ’cause I really wanted the butter.”
I chuckled at him as he grabbed the paper cup of butter and squeezed it haphazardly over the bagel, making a mess. He reminded me of my niece and nephew. I unwrapped my own bagel, slathering it with cream cheese. It was my first time visiting this place and so far I was very impressed. They had a lot of choices of freshly baked bagels and the coffee was actually made by a barista, not the brewed stuff that I’d found in most places around here.
I looked over at Brandon, who was thoroughly enjoying his meal. He had as much butter on his hands and face as he did on the bagel. He grinned over at me between bites.
“Decided on the butter then, Brandon?” A man walked past me, and it was obvious that he was Brandon’s father. He had the same golden-wheat blond hair as Brandon and when he turned and looked over, I could see he had the same bright blue eyes, pertly upturned nose, and generous mouth.
“Daddy, this is Jim. He knows Rock, Paper, Scissors and helped me pick butter for my bagel.”
“Nice to meet you, Jim, I’m Rick,” he said, holding out his hand.
I quickly wiped mine on the napkin, reaching up to shake his.
Are we having a moment? I thought as we looked into each other’s eyes, and then, realizing that the handshake was getting unusually long, I quickly withdrew my hand, immediately picking up my coffee.
“Nice to meet you too,” I managed before I took a sip.
He pulled out his chair and sat down, which put him facing me. I’d picked up one of the free papers on the stand when I’d walked in and kept my gaze firmly on it as I ate, acutely aware of every little movement from the table beside me.
Brandon was fidgety and kept looking over at me as he ate. He gulped at his juice, letting out an exaggerated “ahh” after each swallow, giggling. I glanced over at him and smiled, catching Rick’s eyes. He smiled back and kind of shrugged as if to say, “that’s kids for ya.”
“So what do you do, Jim?” Brandon asked, looking very serious.
I held back a laugh, surprised at hearing him mocking an adult’s mundane question.
“I’m an architect,” I replied, adopting an equally serious expression. “So, what do you do, Brandon?”
He giggled with delight at the question. “I don’t do anything; I’m going to be in first grade this year!”
Rick looked on grinning. He began clearing the table, getting up to take the trash to the bin, grabbing a handful of napkins for Brandon’s messy hands and face.
“Do you work for Trivell Industries then?” Rick asked as he attempted to help Brandon clean up.
“Yes, I do. In fact, I just started there a couple of weeks ago. How did you guess?”
“They’re the largest developer in Crawford and I work on their account. I’m a copywriter with McCormick Advertising.”
“That explains it then.”
“Daddy, can Jim go with us to the park?” Brandon interrupted.
Rick looked a little embarrassed at the pseudo invitation and explained, “It’s our Saturday morning ritual, coming here to have a bagel for breakfast and then going to the park. You’re more than welcome to join us… if you want to.”
“Sure. I’d love to.”
“Yay!” Brandon yelled and, with all of the pent-up energy of a little boy ready for playtime, barreled out the door.
“Hi! I’m Brandon!”
I’d smiled at the little boy before settling in the chair at the table next to him with my coffee and bagel. He was sitting alone and toying with his bagel, although it was obvious from the abandoned coffee cup and half-eaten bagel on the other side of the table that he was here with an adult.
“Hi, Brandon, I’m Jim,” I replied.
“I can’t decide if I want butter or cream cheese on this half,” he declared.
“What did you have on the other half of it?”
“Cream cheese and it was really good, but I like butter too.”
“Hmmm… that is a dilemma. Tell you what, we’ll play Rock, Paper, Scissors. If I win, it’s cream cheese, and if you win, it’s butter.”
“You know Rock, Paper, Scissors? My dad and I play that all the time!”
“Okay, here goes… One… Two… Three…”
“Scissors,” he exclaimed, jumping in a second before I chose paper.
“Looks like it’s butter then!”
“Good, ’cause I really wanted the butter.”
I chuckled at him as he grabbed the paper cup of butter and squeezed it haphazardly over the bagel, making a mess. He reminded me of my niece and nephew. I unwrapped my own bagel, slathering it with cream cheese. It was my first time visiting this place and so far I was very impressed. They had a lot of choices of freshly baked bagels and the coffee was actually made by a barista, not the brewed stuff that I’d found in most places around here.
I looked over at Brandon, who was thoroughly enjoying his meal. He had as much butter on his hands and face as he did on the bagel. He grinned over at me between bites.
“Decided on the butter then, Brandon?” A man walked past me, and it was obvious that he was Brandon’s father. He had the same golden-wheat blond hair as Brandon and when he turned and looked over, I could see he had the same bright blue eyes, pertly upturned nose, and generous mouth.
“Daddy, this is Jim. He knows Rock, Paper, Scissors and helped me pick butter for my bagel.”
“Nice to meet you, Jim, I’m Rick,” he said, holding out his hand.
I quickly wiped mine on the napkin, reaching up to shake his.
Are we having a moment? I thought as we looked into each other’s eyes, and then, realizing that the handshake was getting unusually long, I quickly withdrew my hand, immediately picking up my coffee.
“Nice to meet you too,” I managed before I took a sip.
He pulled out his chair and sat down, which put him facing me. I’d picked up one of the free papers on the stand when I’d walked in and kept my gaze firmly on it as I ate, acutely aware of every little movement from the table beside me.
Brandon was fidgety and kept looking over at me as he ate. He gulped at his juice, letting out an exaggerated “ahh” after each swallow, giggling. I glanced over at him and smiled, catching Rick’s eyes. He smiled back and kind of shrugged as if to say, “that’s kids for ya.”
“So what do you do, Jim?” Brandon asked, looking very serious.
I held back a laugh, surprised at hearing him mocking an adult’s mundane question.
“I’m an architect,” I replied, adopting an equally serious expression. “So, what do you do, Brandon?”
He giggled with delight at the question. “I don’t do anything; I’m going to be in first grade this year!”
Rick looked on grinning. He began clearing the table, getting up to take the trash to the bin, grabbing a handful of napkins for Brandon’s messy hands and face.
“Do you work for Trivell Industries then?” Rick asked as he attempted to help Brandon clean up.
“Yes, I do. In fact, I just started there a couple of weeks ago. How did you guess?”
“They’re the largest developer in Crawford and I work on their account. I’m a copywriter with McCormick Advertising.”
“That explains it then.”
“Daddy, can Jim go with us to the park?” Brandon interrupted.
Rick looked a little embarrassed at the pseudo invitation and explained, “It’s our Saturday morning ritual, coming here to have a bagel for breakfast and then going to the park. You’re more than welcome to join us… if you want to.”
“Sure. I’d love to.”
“Yay!” Brandon yelled and, with all of the pent-up energy of a little boy ready for playtime, barreled out the door.
