I unzip his jeans while he untangles the knots of my pajamas.
“Three . . .”
I’m slowly sliding out of my own pajamas, bringing my boxers down too. I wait to make sure Theo is doing the same with his jeans and Tetris briefs before I commit. But he’s committed, too.
“Two . . . One.”
And just like that, we’re naked in my bed, our clothes at our feet.
It’s weird. It’s weird how everything can change in one week. It’s weird how we went from best friends figuring out how to confess our feelings for each other to boyfriends. It’s weird how Theo was the one who accidentally knocked me off the jungle gym when we were younger, which left a heart-shaped scar on my hip, and now he’s able to see and trace the wrinkly scar he’s responsible for. It’s weird how we used to go into Theo’s backpack to grab an extra Xbox controller, and now I’m watching him run across the room naked to grab condoms—which he packed just in case we lost control of ourselves. It’s weird how it hurts at first; it’s weird how Theo’s talking to me to make sure I’m okay feels way better than everything else that’s happening. It’s weird how we’re learning how to do this together, how I don’t find myself counting, how I’m able to be here for him and be here for me without distraction, how I forget I have a cold. It’s weird how it’s nothing like I thought it would be from the countless hours of porn watching I’ve clocked. It’s weird how I can feel his love for me even though that’s not a word we’re throwing around, and I hope he can feel my love for him, too. It’s weird how when we’re done it doesn’t feel weird at all, how I never want to be invisible when I’m with him, and how I can’t believe I ever thought I would doubt this moment in the first place.
“That’s a thing that happened,” Theo says as he rests his head on my chest.
“It’s a weird thing that happened,” I say. “Good weird. It’s the best kind of weird. The type of weird that should win a medal for how good weird it was.”
“What’s so good weird about it?”
“Because I got to do this with you.” I stare at the ceiling. It could be a starless night sky. “But also because of how I feel. It’s like I’m the same me, but not really. Do you feel that way?”
“Nope. I think you said it best: I’m good-weird different.” Theo turns over and rests on his stomach. “It took a lot of balls to stop beating around the bush and be fully honest with you, and I want full credit, dammit! I’m a new man! I’m good-weird different!” He pops up, kneeling and pumping his fist into the air. I want to go grab the sword and shield we won the other night and present them to him, but I’m too wiped. I’m remembering I have a cold now. “I’m Theo McIntyre, a dude who just had sex with another dude! A dude who loves another du—” He shuts up, probably wishing he possessed the power to rewind time and undo his words. He gestures around the bed. “Screw it. I love you, Griffin. I’m not even going to pretend that’s not what this is. You’re not brand-new to me. I’ve known this for a while. I’m actually happy I outed myself here.”
I don’t know how to process being someone worthy of being someone’s first kiss, of being someone’s first date, of being someone’s first time, of being someone’s first love.
This afternoon wins for its good weirdness.
I smile and it finally comes: sneeze number four. “I’m supposed to be sick. I mean, I’m sick,” I say, my throat tickling.
“Say what?”
“Sorry, I, uh. I’m sick. This just seems like a really strange, I mean weird, I mean good-weird day for someone who should be eating soup and sleeping. I wasn’t even expecting to see you because I’m sick, but here you are. It’s been one week since we’ve been doing this dating thing, and we just had sex and you’re saying you’re in love with me and I’m just kind of like, what.”
I wonder at what I just said. I’m either doing something very right or very wrong.
Theo laughs and shakes his head. “You’re so awkward, Griff. You shouldn’t ever be let outside your room. Here’s my cue to insert some flirty comment about how I’ll lock myself in here with you, but I’m better than that. I think.” He lies down next to me, holding my hand. “Please don’t go crazy over this. If we want to play dumb over this, we can. I can redo this down the line whenever you’re ready.”
I drag a finger across his jawline. I have the most honest boyfriend staring back at me. I have no reason to lie to him, and no reason to lie to myself. “You’re playing dumb already if you don’t think I love you back. But, officially, here it is: I love you, Theo. I love you, dude who had sex with another dude. I love you, dude who is in love with another dude.” Four times. I’ve told Theo I love him four times, and it was easier with each one. I picture each word like a fearless skydiver. An assembly of brave words just dove out of the clouds and landed in my bed.
Theo and I stay there for a little bit longer, but when my mom texts me—asking me how I’m doing and telling me she’ll be home soon with hot soup—we know it’s time for him to go. There’s nothing suspicious about Theo’s being here, but we both know things are different now. Love and sex have been added to the recipe of our friendship. We’re something new. But, man, Theo and I getting dressed together is a kind of quiet miracle, what people don’t even know to dream about until it happens in real time. I try to cling to that dream, to the certainty that everything will feel as infinite as it does now so that our story will be like the high school sweetheart love story my parents have.