Page 114 of Raspados & Regret

Not with somebody standing outside your window holding a boombox like a romantic with a noise complaint.

It happens with a man texting you from church because he can’t wait until later. With him making sure he didn’t hurt you when he fucked you for the first time. With him saying he noticed you long before he was even comfortable allowing himself the thought of liking the same sex. With him saying maybe I do, and your chest acting like that is enough to build a house on.

I’m not stupid.

No, actually, I’m very stupid.

But I am not blind.

Fabián’s not ready.

The man wears crop tops cut high enough to cause traffic accidents. He has his nipples pierced, a barbell through his dick, silver jewelry that reads like a warning label, and a face that looks like it belongs on a bisexual thirst trap account run by Satan himself.

But he has only ever dated women out loud. He works in a shop full of men who turn everything into a masculinity contest before breakfast. He has family who raised him, watched him grow up, and probably still think they know every part of him because they fed him through the worst parts. He has an outward life built on being hard, quiet, useful, and untouchable.

He can dress like a bisexual slut all summer long, but admitting he wants a man is different. Wanting me in my bedroom is one thing and wanting me where people can see is another.

I know that.

I know it so clearly my stomach starts to hurt.

My phone buzzes again.

Fabián

You there?

Elías

Yeah.

Just thinking.

Fabián

Sounds dangerous.

Elías

I learned it from you.

Fabián

What are you thinking about?

I should lie. Tell him that I’m thinking about his dick piercing, because that would be true but also easier. But the soft part of me, the part I did not authorize to speak, takes the phone.

Elías

I’m thinking it was kind of a big deal that I was your first.

Three dots appear, vanish, and then nothing. My heart slides down into my stomach.

I wait.

One minute.

Two.