Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 8

the original eight colors.
    "Yes, we did it!" I yelled and flung up one arm with a fist as I felt the flag finally still, and figured it must now be in the Atlantic. There was cheering and whistling all up and down the street. I leaned over and kissed Kevin, then turned to give Hairy a smooch. Or expected to, anyway. He was too busy kissing Duncan, but I waited and got his cheek when they were done, and Kevin and I had finished our second round. When we could finally let go, the three of us shared a group hug, opening our arms for Duncan to join us. It had been so totally worth it: the long drive, the cheap hotel, the big crowds, and my two best friends, one of whom was now my lover. I hoped that he was it for the rest of my life, but didn't want to put that kind of pressure on our burgeoning relationship yet. Who knew what the future held? As far as I was concerned, our adventure would hold me until the next big one, and I would continue to nurture my growing love for Kevin.
    Each pair holding hands, we walked back to our hotel, planning to nap in the sun on a beach somewhere, and relax for the rest of our vacation. Duncan was staying through the week too, and the four of us expected to spend it together. Fluffernutter was ecstatic to see us and Duncan couldn't help falling under her spell. Grabbing our stuff and my puppy, we jumped into my car and went to find our spot in the sun. Life was good, Kevin was better, and I couldn't be happier.
    THE END
    Author bio: Jonathan Treadway lives with his family in northern Massachusetts and has a professional job during the day. He writes in the evenings and on weekends whenever he can. His stories focus on the romance between two men and all the trials gay men have to survive in order to have a healthy, happily-ever-after (or for-now) relationship. To him, there's nothing sexier than two men exploring each other physically and emotionally as they fall in love.
    When Jon's not writing, he may be trying to relearn how to play his recorders; planning designs and buying supplies for an endless number of quilts (although actually putting them together seems to be a bit slower, plus you can never have enough fabric); or reading any M/M story he can get his hands on— anything to avoid housework. In addition to his human family, Jon also has a pushy rabbit named Annabelle.
    Visit Jonathan's website and e-mail Jon , too. Jon plans to start updating his blog more frequently.
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THE REST OF FOREVER
    by Kate Aaron

    Two shirtless men embrace, seconds away from kissing. The black-haired man looks down at his lover, one hand holding his face; his thumb just brushing against the smaller man's parted lips. His lover's eyes are closed as he leans towards the other man's chest, his expression longing.

    Dear Author
    For so long I'd dreamed of his touch, how his hands would feel on my skin, how his lips would feel on mine. But never had I believed it would be possible.
    And yet, here I now stood. With him . I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes, fearful I'd find it was all just another fantasy.
    "Please," he spoke.
    This was definitely not a dream
    Sincerely,
    Cheri

    genre: contemporary
    tags: friends-to-lovers; reunited; UK; first love
    word count: 14,127
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    THE REST OF FOREVER
    by Kate Aaron
    Eight a.m. Sunday morning in the middle of February and I'm jogging around my local park. I hate Sunday mornings, and I hate jogging. So why am I here? Because he is: Paul Adams, my best-friend-forever, the guy I'm totally, heartbreakingly, nauseatingly in love with.
    I know, I know, I'm a total cliché. What gay guy doesn't grow up and fall in love with his best friend, right? I've read enough sappy romances in my time to know that I'm not alone. There should be a support group or something. And in all those stories the supposedly straight (they're always straight) best friend suddenly wakes up and realises he feels the same. Cue sunset.
    Except my best friend isn't straight. And, once upon a time, he did feel the same.
    Not so sympathetic now, are you?
    I was named Jackson by my mother in a fit of Gaelic traditionalism, that being her maiden name and her being an only child. I guess she didn't want the line to die completely, and at least my dad stuck round long enough to bestow us with his name– Campbell– saving me from the ignominy of being christened Jackson Jackson. You'd think with ancestry like that I'd be all peaches 'n' cream with a shock of curly red