An heir's interesting solution

Chapter One: The Last Night of Being Kids The backyard smelled like charcoal and cut grass, and someone had strung lights between the fence posts that flickered every time the speaker thumped. Daniel Whitmore stood by the cooler with a plastic cup in his hand, watching his graduating class turn into strangers who would soon be scattered across the country. He’d had two drinks. Maybe a half. Enough to loosen the knot that had lived in his chest for ten years, not enough to blur anything. Then he saw Eli Navarro by the back steps, laughing at something a friend said, the porch light catching the side of his face. Third grade, Daniel thought. Eli lent me a pencil and never asked for it back. He set the cup down. He didn’t decide to cross the yard, he just did, and by the time Eli noticed him, Daniel already had his hand. “Daniel? What are you...?” He didn’t answer. He led Eli through the kitchen and down the hallway, past a couple arguing in whispers, and into the first empty bedroom. He shut the door, and the party shrank to a muffled thump through the wall. Then he stepped in close, and Eli’s back met the wall, and Daniel kissed him. Eli went completely still. For one stunned second his hands hung in the air, and then his fingers curled into Daniel’s shirt and he kissed back, like someone who’d been holding his breath since middle school. Then, somewhere in the rush of it, the doubt surfaced. Eli put a palm against Daniel’s chest and pushed, gently. “Wait. Daniel, wait.” His voice shook. “You’ve been drinking.” “A little.” “I don’t want this to be a thing you regret tomorrow. I don’t want to be the mistake you blame on the punch.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t take that. Not from you.” Daniel didn’t step back. He leaned in until their foreheads touched, and for a moment they just breathed the same air. “I’ve had a few drinks,” he said quietly. “I know exactly what I’m doing and exactly who I’m doing it with. I’m not confused, Eli. I’ve never been less confused in my life.” Eli’s eyes closed. “But I’m not going to push you,” Daniel went on. “If you want to stop, say so. We walk out that door, we get nachos, and we never mention it again. I mean that.” A pause. “And if you don’t want to stop,” he said, softer, a smile tugging at his mouth, “then I’ll make this a night you won’t forget.” Eli laughed, a small, startled, breathless sound. He looked at Daniel for a long moment, years of quiet wanting crossing his face, and then he reached up and pulled Daniel back to him. That was his answer. The kiss was slower this time, then not slow at all. Hands found buttons and hems. A shirt hit the floor, then another. They stumbled toward the bed in pieces, laughing against each other’s mouths when Eli tripped over a shoe, and the laughter faded into something more serious as the lamp light slid across bare skin. Daniel paused only once, to dig in his jeans pocket, and Eli raised an eyebrow at the condoms. “You came prepared.” “I came hopeful,” Daniel said, and Eli pulled him down. The rest of the night belonged only to them, and the thump of the party outside faded into nothing. Later, the lamp was off, and the only light came through the curtains. Eli’s head rested on Daniel’s chest, rising and falling with each breath, and Daniel traced slow lines along his shoulder. “Can I tell you something?” Daniel said. “Mm.” “I’ve liked you since third grade. The pencil thing. You probably don’t even remember.” Eli went quiet. Then he lifted his head, eyes wide in the dark. “You remember the pencil?” “I kept it.” “Daniel.” “I know.” Eli laid his head back down, and Daniel felt him smile against his skin. “I’ve loved you since middle school,” Eli said. “Seventh grade, when you stood up to that teacher for the kid everyone was picking on. I was gone after that. I just never thought...” His voice caught. “I never thought you’d feel the same.” “I do,” Daniel said. “I really do.” For a while neither spoke, and it was the most peaceful silence either of them had ever known. Then Daniel’s hand went still. “Eli, I want to start something with you. A real something.” He exhaled. “But there’s a problem.” Eli lifted his head again, wary now. “What kind of problem?” “My grandfather built Whitmore Freight from one truck. He’s leaving it to me. But he put a condition in his will: I have to marry a woman to inherit.” Daniel stared at the ceiling. “If I don’t, it goes to my aunt Victoria. And she’ll run it into the ground. Thousands of people will lose their jobs.” The room was very quiet. “So you’re saying,” Eli said slowly, “that we have the best night of our lives, and then you tell me we can’t be together.” “I’m saying I don’t know what to do,” Daniel whispered. “And I didn’t want to lie to you about it.” Eli looked at him for a long moment. Then, instead of pulling away, he settled back against Daniel’s chest, his hand resting over Daniel’s heart. “Okay,” he said. “Then let’s think.”