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Was it a dream? The kisses in my swimming pool? Our hands as they explored our bodies beneath the water? What he did to me when my underwear came off? What I did to him? The way he made me so delirious at one point, I was certain my moans were loud enough to not only wake my parents, but wake my neighbors half a mile down the road. When I returned the favor by giving Toby more pleasure than he’s ever known, my instant reward was the glorious sight of his eyes rocking back, cheeks flushing deep.
I don’t think we even got a chance to swim.
When things were getting a little too hot for the pool, we took off like a pair of mischievous kids back into the house, wet clothes in hand, padded up the stairs to my bedroom, and resumed right where we left off. Free from our clothes, everything that had been tumbling around in our imaginations was a possibility now. There was just some kind of magic in the air last night, whether it be the fact that it was Homecoming night, or Toby and I had finally had enough of kissing and wanted to take it to the next step.
We didn’t go all the way. But we did several other things two excited boys can do in the privacy of a bedroom. The fact is, I have been waiting for someone like Toby all my life. He pays attention to me. He makes me feel like I’m the only guy in the world who matters to him. He isn’t shopping for a better deal while hanging on to me like some item in his Amazon cart, like every other guy I ever let into my past bedrooms.
I could stay here in this bed holding Toby forever.
Of course, the rising sun helpfully informs me that that dream can’t be a reality. When I next open my eyes, sunlight has filled all the dark corners of my room, and I hear the activity of my parents downstairs in the kitchen. My safe space with Toby feels invaded by the noise, and I cling tighter to him, not wanting our moment to end, or to change, or to be taken away somehow.
I’ve never been this damned insecure in my life.
Or this afraid of losing someone.
“Mmm, I like when you hug me tight,” croaks Toby sleepily.
My face is still buried in the nape of his neck. I decide to put a kiss there, smirking. “I like hugging you tight.”
“I’m also totally naked right now.”
“You are. Except for my bed sheets over you.”
“I don’t have the luxury of sleeping naked. Lee has randomly barged into my shed more times than I can count.”
“Weirdo.”
“Do you have something I can wear? I mean, I could put back on my Biggie’s clothes from last night, since they’re likely dry by now, but …” He squirms a bit in my arms. “I’m not sure it’s how I want to meet your parents.”
I flip Toby onto his back and straddle him in one fast motion. “Who said I’m gonna let you meet them?”
He smirks up at me. “What other option do we have? Sneakin’ me out your window like some naughty overnight secret? Don’t they know we’re … friends or whatever?”
Friends or whatever … “What are we, Toby?”
A look of uncertainty twists his face. “You tell me, Vann.”
We’re still naked, and straddling him like this puts us in a very compromising, sexual position. Yet somehow, neither of us seem to be focused on any of that. It’s as natural as anything, our state of undress right now. I find that immeasurably amazing, the level of comfort we’ve achieved between us in so short a time.
I shrug. “We’ve been seeing each other for weeks now.”
“A month, if you round.”
“It’s hopefully pretty clear I have no interest in anyone else in this stu—in this town,” I go on.
Toby squints suspiciously at me. “You were about to say stupid town, weren’t you? Just now? Why’d you hold back?”
“I dunno. Guess it’s growing on me. Can I kiss you?”
Toby sucks in his own lips, then says in a tiny voice, “Uh, even with my morning breath?”
“You don’t have morning breath,” I say as I do a push-up over him, bringing my mouth closer to his. “And that hasn’t stopped me before, has it?”
Our lips connect. My push-up slowly collapses as I lay myself atop him, then scoop him up in my arms. We roll around, sheets twisting around our legs as we give in to another wave of desire. One minute of kissing turns into two, and it’s clear neither of us want to stop anytime soon.
It’s well after noon when I let Toby fish through my closet for something to put on. He chooses a pair of black shorts and a shirt I always thought looked like a bunch of dominos, which fits him just right—and which he seems suspiciously selective of. “Reminds me of you,” he says innocently when I poke him about it. I don’t press him further. We take turns in the bathroom, then share my sink to fuss with our hair, and he marvels at how big the mirror is. After throwing on a black tank top and jeans myself, I notice it seems very quiet downstairs, and I cross my fingers that my parents have taken off to do some sort of mayoral crap this morning, leaving the house to us.
