I’ve given up on love by the time tall, dark and handsome sweeps me off my feet — literally.
Mal
Everyone around me is sickeningly in love. And I’m happy for my friends. I really am. But when is my turn coming? Why am I still a disposable hookup?
I’m ready to give up on love entirely by the time a bunch of drunk jocks decide to jump me on my way home from the Boyfriend Café. But before a single punch can fall he sweeps in, my dashing hero, my literal tall, dark and handsome, the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
Please tell me this isn’t a dream.
The second I hear a scream I run toward it without thinking. My own teammates are threatening someone, and I rush in to stop them. But the man I save is … beautiful. And funny. And smart. And he brazenly gives me his phone number right then and there.
He has no idea that he just gave his number to the most hunted man at this university.
I’m Omari Carter, a football player everyone assumes is destined for the pros. Scouts are hounding me. Coach is pushing me to decide on my future. My whole family is depending on me. But Mal doesn’t know or care about any of that.
With all the expectations weighing me down, I don’t have time for love. So why can’t I walk away from this?
Mint to Be is an opposites attract MM romance with a major size difference, a grumpy/sunshine dynamic, an athlete meeting a lovable fashion nerd and spicy open door scenes.
Broccoli cocks his hand back. I stumble away, but I’m not looking and my foot catches on the curb. I fall backward onto the sidewalk, screaming in terror as I thump to the ground. It’s a real scream, too, a full-throated shriek of panic as my doom approaches. I cover my head in my hands. It won’t do a bit of good, but I don’t have anything else to protect myself with. I can’t run. I can’t hide. I can’t talk my way out of this. When that fist comes down on me, I’m pulp on the sidewalk.
“Hey. Assholes.”
Everything stops as someone shouts at the football bros. Broccoli hesitates, his fist in the air, his dumb neanderthal face going slack with surprise as he sizes up the man sprinting toward us like his shoes are on fire. Seriously, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone that fast in my life.
He doesn’t slow down when he reaches the group, either. He keeps running, slamming into Broccoli and tackling him to the pavement. They grunt and shout, but the new guy has the upper hand. He doesn’t seem drunk, for one thing.
“Cut it out, Derek,” New Guy says.
“Fuck, Omari, what the hell? That really hurt!” Broccoli says.
“As much as it would have hurt that dude you were about to punch? What is wrong with you, man? You really think Coach won’t sit your ass on the bench for that shit?”
“I don’t know, man. I was drunk. He was in our way. He said some shit. I got mad.”
“Well, get un-mad. Real quick. And then get the fuck out of here, understand?”
Broccoli nods, and New Guy lets him up. I’m still on the ground, mouth agape as I watch this interaction play out. The other guys in the group all mutter apologies before they drag their buddy away. And then it’s just me and that new guy, the one they called Omari.
He turns toward me, and I instantly forget how to breathe.
People jokingly call Albert tall, dark and handsome, but this guy is literally tall, dark and handsome. He might be taller than Albert, and he’s built from nothing but lean muscle. His every movement bears an athlete’s grace. When he looks down at me, his eyes are deep and vast and dark, nearly as dark as his close-cropped hair and beard. He extends one smooth brown hand toward me.
“Are you okay?” he says.
I don’t know how to answer that with my heart flailing around in my chest.
I just got superhero rescued by the most gorgeous man on this entire campus
Broccoli cocks his hand back. I stumble away, but I’m not looking and my foot catches on the curb. I fall backward onto the sidewalk, screaming in terror as I thump to the ground. It’s a real scream, too, a full-throated shriek of panic as my doom approaches. I cover my head in my hands. It won’t do a bit of good, but I don’t have anything else to protect myself with. I can’t run. I can’t hide. I can’t talk my way out of this. When that fist comes down on me, I’m pulp on the sidewalk.
“Hey. Assholes.”
Everything stops as someone shouts at the football bros. Broccoli hesitates, his fist in the air, his dumb neanderthal face going slack with surprise as he sizes up the man sprinting toward us like his shoes are on fire. Seriously, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone that fast in my life.
He doesn’t slow down when he reaches the group, either. He keeps running, slamming into Broccoli and tackling him to the pavement. They grunt and shout, but the new guy has the upper hand. He doesn’t seem drunk, for one thing.
“Cut it out, Derek,” New Guy says.
“Fuck, Omari, what the hell? That really hurt!” Broccoli says.
“As much as it would have hurt that dude you were about to punch? What is wrong with you, man? You really think Coach won’t sit your ass on the bench for that shit?”
“I don’t know, man. I was drunk. He was in our way. He said some shit. I got mad.”
“Well, get un-mad. Real quick. And then get the fuck out of here, understand?”
Broccoli nods, and New Guy lets him up. I’m still on the ground, mouth agape as I watch this interaction play out. The other guys in the group all mutter apologies before they drag their buddy away. And then it’s just me and that new guy, the one they called Omari.
He turns toward me, and I instantly forget how to breathe.
People jokingly call Albert tall, dark and handsome, but this guy is literally tall, dark and handsome. He might be taller than Albert, and he’s built from nothing but lean muscle. His every movement bears an athlete’s grace. When he looks down at me, his eyes are deep and vast and dark, nearly as dark as his close-cropped hair and beard. He extends one smooth brown hand toward me.
“Are you okay?” he says.
I don’t know how to answer that with my heart flailing around in my chest.
I just got superhero rescued by the most gorgeous man on this entire campus
When our hour together comes to a close, my heart lurches in my chest.I came here out of curiosity. I came here to run away from other things. But the moment I know I have to leave, I yearn to stay, to remain in this quiet, bright world full of biscuits and tea and soft conversation. It’s the antithesis of everything I know in the rest of my life, and I reach for it with a hunger no amount of delicate baked goods will ever sate.“Let me walk you home,” I say on a whim.
Mal is halfway out of his chair when I speak. He freezes, blinking at me. He recovers after a beat, rising to face me as we stand around the little table where we sat and chatted.
“I still have to clean and close up with the other guys,” Mal says. “It’ll take fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“That’s okay,” I say. “I don’t mind waiting.” Oh God, what am I saying? Why am I being so forward? “Besides,” I rush to add, “we did meet because you got attacked on your way home. I didn’t come all this way to let it happen again.”
“My hero,” Mal says with such an achingly beautiful and wry and sassy smile I almost lunge forward to taste it. “Okay then. You can walk me home. There’s a deck table out in the back. Do you mind waiting there?”
F. A. Ray started writing fiction as a child and has never stopped. When they aren’t writing, they enjoy rock climbing and hiking in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, where they live with their partner and cat.
Visit linktr.ee/faraywrites to find out more. You can also sign up for my Patreon, where I post WIPs, updates, bonus scenes, deleted scenes and short stories that don’t appear anywhere else.
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