Brett Read online

  BRETT

  BOOK 2

  by

  Daryl Banner

  Author of

  Bromosexual

  Hard For My Boss

  Football Sundae

  &

  The Brazen Boys Series

  Brett

  Boys & Toys Season 2

  Copyright © 2020 by Daryl Banner

  Published by Frozenfyre Publishing

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, groups, businesses, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Photography

  RLS Photography

  Cover Model

  Colby Dansby

  Cover & Interior Design

  Daryl Banner

  CONNOR

  BRETT

  DANTE

  ZAK

  BRETT

  CHAPTER LIST

  [ THE FRAT BOY ]

  1

  2

  3

  [ THE EASY LIFE ]

  4

  5

  [ THE BIG NIGHT OUT ]

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  [ THE BIG DAY ]

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  [ THE BEST BRO ]

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  [ BRETT’S EPILOGUE ]

  Epilogue

  Dante

  What’s next for the boys?

  Other works by Daryl Banner

  Excerpt from Boys & Toys Season 1: Caysen’s Catch

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Whether you’ve read the first season of Boys & Toys, or this is your introduction to them, thank you for picking up this book! I hope you continue to enjoy the series as these four young men in the city pursue love, get into fun trouble, and hopefully discover their place in the world along the way.

  I’d like to dedicate this series to every gay or queer person reading this who, at times, feels like an outsider even among their own kind. You are not alone. You belong in this world, and you have an important and necessary purpose here. Thank you for being your unique and amazing self.

  Happy reading, always!

  XXOO ~ Daryl

  BRETT

  BOYS & TOYS SEASON 2 BOOK 2

  [ THE FRAT BOY ]

  Through an opened window, the noises of evening traffic, rumbling engines, and not-so-distant police sirens drift in like a storm. Brett sits on his bed in a pile of clothes he’s tried on and flung right off. He can’t settle on a look, and every time he peers at himself in the mirror, he only sees panicked eyes. But Brett’s restlessness began long before he got home …

  1

  I can’t escape the butterflies when I’m at work, cranking out coffee order after coffee order, a smile forced on my face underneath my cockeyed hat.

  I can’t escape the butterflies on my lunch break when I’m out back in the alley, pacing around as my boss Bethany—permanently sleepy, raccoon-eyed, forty, and thin as a half-melted popsicle—talks my ear off about her girlfriend’s annoying habits between puffs from an herb-scented cigarette.

  I can’t escape the butterflies hours later when I’m on the subway heading home, hand gripping the bar above me, my ass probably in someone’s face, trying to tune out the crying and shouting of a little boy somewhere in the crowded train.

  That’s me. I’m that little boy, shouting, crying, wanting a piece of candy I can’t have.

  Skylar’s the candy. And he’s in town—my hot college crush I haven’t seen since I dropped out. He’s here, inexplicably, and he wants to see me. How am I supposed to just carry on with my day-to-day life like that news doesn’t turn my whole world on its head? I almost brushed my teeth with hair mousse this morning, for fuck’s sake.

  And by five o’clock when I’m home and still a mess, I can’t take another second of it. “Connor!” I shout out, gripping a t-shirt in either hand.

  My roommate Connor hurries to my door. He averts his eyes at once. “Brett, I can see your—”

  “You gotta help me, bro. I need to look hot.”

  “Can you put on some pants first?” he suggests as he blinks his big blue eyes, staring somewhere at my ceiling. The overworked, slender, and tragically boyish guy is still in his shirt and tie from work.

  “Really? You and I have been roommates for over a month now, Connor.”

  “That doesn’t mean—”

  “So when are you gonna stop squirming when you see me in my undies?”

  “Um, those aren’t ‘undies’. That is a jock, and it is giving me way too much information.”

  I ignore his protests and fish out a pair of jeans from the pile on the bed. “Should I go for these, or some kind of … stylish shorts, maybe …?”

  Connor sighs and gives up averting his gaze to glance at the jeans. “Are those your skinny jeans or the ones with the—?” He answers his own question when he draws close enough to give them a look. “Yeah, wear these ones. They show off your bum. Let’s face it, that’s basically your moneymaker.”

  I smile. There’s the helpful, cheery Connor I know and need. “Alright. Now pick out a top for me.”

  “That one, the red one. Red’s your color. Why am I dressing you, by the way?” His eyes go wide with excitement when it hits him. “Wait a sec! Is tonight the night??”

  “Yep.” I peel off my shirt and toss it at the bed, then search for the neck hole in the red shirt. “He’s in town. I’m going to see him for the first time in—”

  “No way!” Connor is instantly ten times more lively than he’s been in days. “This is huge! And here I was, thinking we still had a week or two to get ready. I mean, I don’t want to blow this up into a bigger deal than it is,” he adds suddenly, fretting, “but if you’re planning to invite him over, I need to straighten things up around here.” He winces at the messy pile on my bed, now focusing on everything except the fact that I’m standing here in just my jock fishing the sleeves out of this inside-out red shirt. “Phew. You’ve got a mess in here. I can clean up a bit while you’re out with your guy. Where’re you taking him, by the way?”

  I stop fussing with my shirt for a second. “I … haven’t decided. Somewhere uptown, maybe?”

  Connor’s eyebrows fly up his forehead. “Dude! It’s Friday night! Everything will be booked! You won’t get a reservation anywhere!”

  “It’s alright! I was just gonna meet up with him at a bar. Maybe the old one I used to go to.”

  “Are you talking about a straight bar? Wait a sec.” He brings his voice down, as if someone may overhear. “You mean he’s straight? This fraternity guy you’re crazy for is straight? Oh, Brett …”

  Damn, now I gotta endure a grilling from him? “You all got the wrong idea,” I tell him. “You, Lex, and Omar all went and assumed I’m going on some date with this guy. That’s not what’s happening. We’re just catching up like a pair of old pals, alright?”

  “Does he know about you …?”

  I flush with frustration.

  That’s all the answer Connor needs. “Well, alright. I guess I can see how it’s a bit complicated now.” He bites his lip and stares pensively at the pile on my bed, lost in thought.

  I squint at him. “I noticed you�
��ve been stressed out whenever you come home from Wales Weekly lately.” I come up to him and give him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, where I feel a knot as tight as steel. “Have you had a bad week? Is that one intern still treating you like a total jerk?”

  “Who? Jay?” He snorts. “No, he’s been oddly great. Probably in love with me. Also, I think Bree might be my best friend now. My issue is more …” After a second, he faces me. “Never mind. Are you getting dressed or not? When are you meeting?”

  Something’s up with him lately, but I can’t ever seem to get the whole story. Maybe the issue is with his boyfriend. “How are you and Alan?”

  “I have a shift at Aubergines in an hour,” he says, dodging my question. “I gotta get ready, too.” He gives my jock a smirk. “Or you could meet him wearin’ just that. I’m sure it’d kill all your birds with a simple, jock-shaped stone.” Connor cracks a smile, then winces. “Nah, shouldn’t have said that. I really like birds.” Then he heads out.

  I slip on the red shirt, which hugs my big frame rather snugly. I worked out this morning before my shift, so my pecs and biceps are still pumped. Those skinny jeans Connor picked out do the intended trick of making my ass look like a dessert. I add a light brown belt and matching shoes, then slap on my backwards cap, boasting my university colors of red and white. I quickly run a trimmer over my face to even out my beard, making it look cut and cropped for the first time in months. I give myself a proud smirk in the mirror, pretending not to notice how nervous my eyes look.

  It’s been years since I saw anyone from my old frat, let alone Skylar Haas, the hot young cat who stole my heart without even realizing it. He was the complete package of everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy. Unlike most of the guys who occupy my bed lately, he doesn’t have the rock-hard body of a gym rat, which makes my insane attraction to him all the more deep, like he’s been made just for me. Skylar is a perfect mix of goofball, sweetheart, and cocky bad boy, which speaks to all of my inner demons in the best and very worst ways.

  And yeah, alright, he might be straight. So?

  “I pulled some strings,” Connor tells me after I emerge from the bathroom, “and by ‘pulled some strings’, I mean I called Alan. We set you and your guy up with a reservation at Dino’s.”

  My eyes go wide. “Connor …” I start.

  “Nope, no need to thank me,” he cuts me off. I wasn’t going to thank him. “Also, since Alan knows a guy who knows a guy, your meal is being comped. Nope,” he insists again, lifting a hand as I open my mouth. “Again, don’t thank me. It’s all Alan! And you deserve the night to not worry about a dang thing except reconnecting with your old fraternity buddy!” Connor grins, proud of himself, then takes me in. “Hey, you look pretty good! But I think you should lose the hat and do your hair.”

  I frown. “But it’s my campus colors!”

  He takes off the hat for me and tosses it at the couch. “Yeah, and you’re takin’ your guy to a proper restaurant. You don’t wear hats in a restaurant, Brett. Didn’t your mama raise you right?”

  “Your Mississippi twang always comes out the most when you’re annoyed,” I tease him.

  His face flattens. “You know damned well I’m not from Mississ—”

  My phone rings. I race to the kitchen counter where it sits. “It’s Skylar,” I mutter in a total daze, continuing to stare at it as it rings and rings.

  Connor studies me as he leans against the back of the couch. “So … are you just gonna stare at the thing until it runs outta battery, or …?”

  I snap out of it, breathe, and slap the phone to my ear. “Sky?”

  From the phone comes: “Brett? … That you?”

  The deep yet boyish sound of Skylar’s voice stirs awake all the butterflies I’ve had all day long.

  Reservations for dinner? Really, Connor? How am I expected to eat with all of these winged insects flitting around inside me?

  “Yeah!” I finally answer, coming to. “Bro, I’m stoked you’re in town! Are you all settled into your hotel? When do I get to—” I glance at Connor with my panicked eyes for a second. “—g-get to see you? You wanna grab a little bite?” Connor whisper-shouts: “At seven!—and it’s not a ‘little’ bite,” at me. “At seven?” I add, narrowing my eyes at Connor.

  “Dude, are you reading my mind? I’m starved! Give me the address. I’ll get a cab there.”

  Starved doesn’t cover it. “Great! I’ll text it to you!”

  “Can’t wait to see you, man. I’ve got some big, big news. Major news. It’s gonna blow your mind!”

  “I can’t wait to get blown!” I shout back.

  Connor gawps at me.

  My eyes grow twice the size of my face when I realize what I just fucking said. “Uh, I meant—”

  “I’ll see you there in an hour!” Skylar exclaims, then click.

  I swallow hard and set my phone down.

  Connor comes to my side and pats me on the back. “Don’t worry, buddy. If it’s already this bad, it can only get worse.” He smiles helpfully.

  I stare at him warningly. “Connor …”

  He laughs. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. You’ll be fine! Hey, you look great. Except for the hair.”

  “I, uh …” Now comes the difficult part. “I was thinking … like, if maybe Skylar wants to come see where I live after dinner, and maybe doesn’t feel … like going back to his hotel room …” I squirm as I search for the words.

  “Oh.” Connor gets it. “You want me to—?”

  “Does that make me a shitty roommate?”

  “No! I’ll just …” Connor performs a quick tap-dance, then snaps his fingers when the idea comes. “I work late tonight anyway. I’ll get Alan to snatch me up when I get off, and I’ll stay the night at his place. The whole apartment will be yours!”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah! I stay there half the time anyway, so—”

  I grab hold of his shoulders. “Thank you!” I crush him into my arms. He grunts in pain as my hug squeezes his poor lungs empty. “I owe you!”

  “Air …” rasps Connor.

  I let him go, then hurry to text Skylar the addy to Dino’s before rushing to the bathroom to do my hair. After getting it just right, I catch a peek of my roommate through the French doors leading into his bedroom off the kitchen, where he’s squeezing his butt into a pair of shiny purple bootie shorts—his uniform as a shot boy at Aubergines, the local strip bar where he works a second job.

  His words echo in my head as I glance at the couch, reconsidering my cap, which still sits there. After another thought, I grab it and slap it back on my head, squishing down my neatly fixed hair.

  Instantly, I feel like myself again.

  “Work it!” I tease him as he puts on his sparkling purple bowtie, then head out, hop down five flights of stairs, and hurry to the station.

  I get to Dino’s twelve minutes early. I am never early. To anything. Ever. Not even my own job. Yet here I am—and I’m a nervous fucking wreck.

  “Reservation for Brett Macintyre,” I state to a sweet, bright-eyed hostess with a ponytail.

  After a critical glance at my hat, she says, “This way, sir,” then guides me through the clean, dimly-lit restaurant. “Your table, sir.” I am seated in the middle of the damned room, feeling every single eye on me. A few more words are said—I hear none of them—and then I’m left on my own to clutch a menu I’m not looking at, bounce my leg in place under a table I’m apparently not paying for, and stare at the front doors with unblinking eyes.

  It’s fourteen excruciating minutes and five false alarms later that the doors open, and the guy I’ve waited three long years to see walks in.

  2

  Skylar is every bit of sexy I remember. He struts into the restaurant like a boss, sporting a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the top with an opened gray vest over it, plus a pair of loose jeans. His hair is dark brown and swept stylishly to the side. He is truly a one-of-a-kind guy who has always marched to the beat of
his highly amplified and very percussive snare drum. His bright white dress shirt and his creamy complexion makes his eyebrows and the small brown tuft of a goatee on his chin pop. He has broad shoulders and a long, soft-bodied torso, and where he lacks in muscles, he makes up for in confidence, carrying himself like a peacock—proud and poised, which I’ve always found so hot.

  He barely spends three seconds looking around before he spots me, and the broadest, handsomest smile spills over his face, lighting up his big round eyes and revealing all the warm fire in his cheeks.

  Goddamn, I’m still fucking crazy for this guy.

  “Sky!” I cry out as I rise from the table.

  He comes right up and throws his arms around me, slapping my back. “Brett, my man!”

  Feeling his body against mine—even if just for these brief couple of seconds—wakes up too many emotions inside me to even dare try to describe. It’s like at once, we’re frat brothers again. I feel all of the familiar bubbles of excitement bouncing around inside me, as if we just came back from a college football game where we cheered on our team, our faces still painted in our school colors. Skylar even smells the way I remember him.

  He pulls away to get a look at me. “You look buff! Have you been working out, or did you eat a house? Show me those guns!”

  I laugh, then flash him a quick bicep flex.

  “Dude,” is all he says, shaking his head.

  I know there are a hundred eyes on us. I ignore every last one of them. “Come on, take a seat.” I gesture at the table. We sit down. He keeps staring at me with that broad, warm smile on his face. “I swear you look the same, Sky.”

  He shrugs. “You, too! Even the hat!” he notes with a laugh. “How long’s it been?”

  “Three years since I left the frat.”

  “You mean three years since you flunked and dropped out?” he teases.

  I open my mouth to reply, then find I can’t.

  Skylar notices, dropping his smile at once. “Oh, shit. Dude, sorry. I didn’t mean that in an asshole kind of way. I meant—”