Prologue
Junior Year—Fall Semester
When it comes to celebrating life’s biggest moments, Denz has seen it all.
Themed birthdays and anniversaries. Graduations to retirement parties. The engagement to wedding day to baby shower or, on occasion, a luxurious soirée welcoming the happy couple’s first pet.
Yes, a “pawty.”
Event planning is his family’s legacy.
And at twenty-one, he’s also witnessed every version of a behind-the-scenes disaster that comes with those big moments.
The ruthless arguments over a party budget. The melting sweetsixteen cake after someone used sparklers instead of traditional
candles. Multiple doggy ring bearers ruining pristine wedding dresses. That awkward moment when the drunken father of the
bride—because, of course, her family insisted on an open bar— gives a speech about how much he hates his new son-in-law in
front of two hundred reception guests.
Any event involving two families interacting for the first time is typically a disaster in the making.
Which is why Denz is very casually doing breathing exercises in his boyfriend’s Toyota Corolla. He refuses to lose his shit in the
middle of a parking lot in Athens, Georgia. So what if his own Big Moment is approximately one hour and ten minutes away.
He’s chill.
“Okay,” Bray is saying as he climbs back into the passenger seat while juggling two large cups and a bag overflowing with
food, “I got us a ton of options.”
Denz exhales one last time. Outside, The Varsity on West Broad Street stands out in a pop of white and red against the gray
December sky. They’re only five minutes from the University of Georgia’s campus. He can turn around. Spare them both this
whole first in-person encounter.
But then his gaze falls on Bray. Honey-brown complexion stained a bright pink from the cold. A wool beanie hiding his dark
buzz cut. That perpetual boyish look in the corner of his brown eyes. His goofy expression.
“Two slaw dogs,” Bray lists off. “Double bacon cheeseburger. Triple burger. Fries. Chicken nuggets. Two fried peach pies. Varsity
Orange for me. Frosted Orange for you.”
“Sorry.” A smile teases Denz’s mouth. “Are we driving to Atlanta or Nebraska?”
“Road trips require supplies.”
“This—” Denz waves a hand at all the food unloaded in Bray’s lap. “—is a feast!”
“So . . . should I have got more nuggets? Onion rings?”
Denz cranks the heat to help settle Bray’s shivering. “Not if you plan on kissing me later.”
“A fair trade.”
Denz ignores his sarcasm. He watches Bray stab a straw into his cup. The way his leg bounces. All the anxious energy pouring
off him like a dog shaking raindrops from its fur.
He’s seen this side of his boyfriend before. At swim meets where Bray hasn’t placed less than fourth in a race all season.
Before a test Bray’s obsessively studied for.
The other day when Denz suggested they go home together for winter break this year.
“You’re nervous,” he comments.
In less than two hours, Bray’s meeting Denz’s parents for the first time.
“I’m not,” Bray insists. He rips open a ketchup packet with his teeth, building a hill to dunk his fries in. It’s the only way he can
eat them.
“They’re gonna love you.”
“I know.” Bray doesn’t look very convincing while slurping his orange soda. “You’re the one shitting his boxers. I saw that
face you made at the gas station. When your mom called.” He imitates an expression that’s somewhere between a cat puking
and a puppy straining to poop.
Denz chucks a fry at his forehead. “I didn’t look like that.”
“You did. It was cute.”
“I’m fine.”
“Really?” Bray’s eyes sweep suspiciously around. “Did you stress-clean my car while I was ordering food?”
“No?” He did. A little.
“You know they’re not gonna judge me by how many protein bar wrappers or empty water bottles I have on my floor mats,
right?”
Denz does. And Bray’s right—he is on edge.
It’s been building for a week. His crankiness after every call or text from his parents. And, fine, maybe he guided Bray’s sixfoot-one frame into a nice pair of black jeans and a hunter-green sweater instead of the joggers and SpongeBob hoodie he planned to wear. Maybe Denz is dressed in a Burberry cardigan, tailored charcoal slacks, and a new pair of leather oxfords.
The first impression needs to be perfect.
Denz has never brought a boyfriend home to his parents. Someone he’s been dating for over a year. Someone he’s said “I love you”
to. He wants everyone in his family—especially his dad—to feel the same way he does about Bray: like he’s The One.
“Hey,” Bray says after Denz almost chews through his thumb cuticle. “Promise I won’t make you look bad today.”
“I wasn’t worried abo—”
Bray’s narrow-eyed glare cuts him off.
Fuck. He doesn’t mean for Bray to feel like he’s the issue. He’s not. Denz’s sisters already love him. They met over the phone months ago. Since then, Denz has caught Bray exchanging memes and GIFs with his younger sister, Nic, online. And Kami, his older sister, calls just to discuss what’s happened on their latest reality show obsessions.
The problem is the rest of Denz’s family.
He’s used to their high expectations. Their infatuation with public approval. Anyone associated with the Carters, including
who Denz dates, needs to meet certain standards.
Case in point: the Kenneth Carter Rite of Passage test. Denz knows it’s coming. His dad’s private interrogation of any potential partner his children bring home. It’s never malicious. But Denz doesn’t want Bray to suffer through it either.
Also, he secretly wants to keep this version of his life to himself.
In Athens, he’s not Denzel Carter, son of a Forbes Most Influential CEO. No one cares about his family’s net worth. How messy his apartment is. If he shows up to class wearing the same coffee-stained T-shirt he had on two days ago, his short ’fro unbrushed. Here, he can idle in a near-empty parking lot and not worry about some photographer seeing the glob of mustard on his boyfriend’s chin.
Denz isn’t ready to give any of this up yet.
“Um.” Bray pops a chicken nugget in his mouth. “Are we skipping the holidays?”
“What?”
“We’re not moving.”
“I’m getting there.”
“You know performance anxiety is real.” Bray finally wipes his chin. “I’m not rushing you. Dad and I aren’t very religious
anyway.”
Grinning, Denz says, “But you have traditions. Like making hot apple cider Christmas morning.”
“Watching The Grinch. Animated only.”
“In your pj’s!” Denz is fond of the Rudolph-onesie selfie Bray sent him last year. He can’t wait to unzip it in person.
“I’m starting to think Dad likes you more than me.”
“Impossible,” Denz says.
Bray stuffs his mouth with fries instead of responding.
Another thing Denz feels guilty about: he’s already met Dr. Emmanuel Adams. Bray eagerly introduced them when his dad visited at the end of last semester. Denz was so nervous going to shake Emmanuel’s hand, he knocked over his iced latte. A milky brown flood across the coffee shop floor. Thankfully, Emmanuel laughed instead of demanding Bray break up with him then and there.
Emmanuel has become a regular fixture in Denz’s life now. Random check-ins. Pep talks before exams. Inviting Denz to join his weekly Scrabble nights with Bray.
“He’s excited to see you,” Bray says.
“Maybe we should spend the whole break with him?”
Denz chugs his milkshake. Is brain freeze a valid enough excuse for missing dinner with his family?
“No way.” Bray signals toward the back seat. Carefully nestled between their luggage is a white box from No Crumb Left Behind,
Athens’s best bakery. Inside, half a dozen chocolate-chip muffins await Kenneth. “These are your dad’s favorite.”
Bray’s great at remembering the smallest detail from a story you tell him. Keeping a mental log of all your favorite things. He never forgets the stuff you hate either, like onions on your burger.
“He’ll live,” Denz grumbles.
“Then who will eat them, my tiny muffin?” Bray leans in for a ketchup-sticky kiss that Denz almost rejects.
He hates pet names.
Denz inhales again. He’s hit with the scent of greasy fast food and the horrendous Snowflakes and Sweaters car freshener Bray
loves. Underneath, the heady aroma of Bray’s coconut bodywash soothes him.
“I need a minute.”
To convince myself I’m not making a big mistake, he thinks, but doesn’t say.
What if his parents don’t love Bray?
Denz shakes his head. That’s not a thing. He won’t let it be a thing.
He cranes over the center console to rest his forehead against Bray’s. “I’m gonna rip that stupid sweater off you with my teeth.”
“Is that before or after I meet your parents?”
“In between?”
Bray shrugs. “I don’t know. There might not be time. I’ll be pretty busy wooing your mom and impressing your dad.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Denz lies. “He’s just a dad.”
“There’s a video of him hugging Idris Elba on Good Day Atlanta all over the internet,” Bray deadpans. “He’s not just a dad.”
Denz lets Bray feed him bites of burger. He’s not wrong about Kenneth. Denz just doesn’t want to admit it out loud.
“I’m gonna convince your entire family I’m the greatest boyfriend ever,” Bray tells him.
“It’ll only be my parents, Kami, and Nic. Mikah too, but he’s not hard to impress. Being a baby and all.”
“No aunts or uncles? Cousins?”
“Nope.” Denz steals the aux cord to plug his phone in. No way he’s suffering through another one of Bray’s true crime podcasts while driving. “Auntie Cheryl and Uncle Tevin are in LA with Jordan while he’s on winter break. Auntie Eva’s at Uncle Orlando’s family’s villa in Puerto Rico. Gone until after New Year’s.”
Denz planned it this way. Less prying questions and unfiltered commentary from extended family.
Bray asks, “What about your mom’s family?”
“Too spread out across the country.”
Bray looks slightly relieved. Like he was secretly dreading having to talk to that many people at once. Denz grew up around large group settings, either from family gatherings or the company’s year-round events. Bray hasn’t. He prefers nights in to parties overflowing with strangers.
Denz drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Scrolls through his playlist. Turns the heat down, then up. It’s one dinner. One
winter break.
“Denz.” Bray’s voice is restless. “You’re not backing out, are y—”
“No.”
“Good.” He kisses Denz. Soft, punctuated. “I want to meet your family.”
It hits like a shock wave. A ripple in Denz’s gut that might not ever subside. Bray’s not intimidated. He’s confident. He wants this to happen.
Over the console, Denz grabs Bray’s hand. He squeezes three times. Their secret code: I love you.
“Promise not to regret this,” Denz requests.
“I survived Nic’s commentary on my music and movie taste,” Bray reminds him. Denz groans. Why are all thirteen-year-olds
such feral creatures with strong opinions? But Bray smiles sweetly.
“How bad can your parents be?”
Denz cackles. He hits Play on his phone. Lorde’s “Royals”thumps through the speakers as he finally throws the car in reverse.
“You have no idea.”
But Denz does. He knows his family. They’ll fall helplessly in love with Bray the same way he has. It’s inevitable. Destiny on the
fringe of being fulfilled.
What can possibly go wrong?
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