I desire and choose.
So in the end, I keep it simple.
Cheers,I type.Hope you're well.
The next four years allow plenty of breathing room to rebuild our friendship.
In between event gigs and catering chaos, Porter and I text occasionally.
Eventually, a call here or there.
Online photos of him and Sutton become kind of boring to look at.
Perhaps they would have bothered me when I was younger.
But not anymore.
I never thought I’d say it.
But my feelings for Olsen run far deeper than any one-sided teenage yearning.
With him, there’s nothing to hide and no halfway effort.
Our love is free and unguarded.
It makes me realise how little I was asking for before.
???
One lazy Sunday, we share the most glorious climax together in the hallway.
It starts when Olsen comes up behind me to get something out of the linen cupboard.
“Careful with those towels,” he warns.
“Why?”
“The first time you ever wore one, it got you in so much trouble.”
“Remind me,” I dare.
An hour later, we’re surrounded by sheets and linen of every colour.
Now all of them will need to be washed.
He’s such a dirty boy, but so good to me.
And I can’t get enough.
I nudge the boundaries a little.
In these arms, I feel safe enough to do so.
“Do you really think it's possible for people to be friends when they've...?”
“Showered together?” he guesses. “Shared a pubescent sexual awakening?”
My ears grow warm.
