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“Yeah, because when I’m old and decrepit I want the equivalent of a wrinkled raisin on my ass.”
“But they’d be matching wrinkled raisins.”
“I thought the whole point was to show that we’re together.” I sigh heavily.
“These do, and personally I think I nailed it. I mean, look at all the little Easter eggs in this design. Your hobbies, my hobbies, all bundled up in a little heart that screams gay pride to boot. Tell me that’s not poetic.”
“Still not gay,” I remind him.
“For me you are.” He bites his adorable bottom lip like the little brat he is, and my agitation fades instantly.
“Yeah, Tripp.” I smile affectionately. I stopped trying to figure out what label fit me best once I realized that didn’t change how I felt about him. Still, he’s never been more right. “For you I am.”
