Bromosexual

“I wish I could just stay here,” I remember saying to him. “I don’t wanna go home.”

“You could stay if you want. Your dad’s late, anyway.”

He just invited me to stay the night. I bit my lip and turned my head to Stefan, heart racing. Our faces were so close lying there next to each other on that small bed of his. “Maybe he forgot.”

“Wanna call him?”

I stepped out into the hall and stood by the banister. I dialed my house number and stared down into the living room where Stefan’s pretty mother was busy cleaning up.

My dad answered right away. “Ah, shit, son. I forgot. I’ll be there in—”

“Actually,” I cut him off quickly, “I, um …” My heart raced. I felt like my stomach was a lonely boy caught in a blizzard, looking around the white, blinding snow and shivering.

“Ryan? Something wrong?”

“Not at all. That’s … That’s actually it. Can I … Can I s-s-stay the night?”

Even my teeth were clattering. That’s how nervous I was.

That’s how excited I was.

“Well.” It was agonizing to wait for his answer. “Well, I guess if it’s okay with—”

Thank God. “Yes, yes, yes,” I blurted quickly. “It’s fine. It’s fine with them. Stefan and I are having so much fun.”

“Alright. Just don’t get into any trouble with the other boys, alright? Don’t go sneaking out or anything.”

“The others went home.”

He was silent for a moment. “The other boys went home?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Oh.” He paused again. “So it’s just you and Stefan?”

I struggled not to feel defensive about him asking that specific question. It made my face flush, as if I was trying to get away with something bad, or that I should somehow be embarrassed by it. Was my dad trying to imply something? “Y-Yes,” I asserted. “It’s just us. We’re just playing his Xbox.”

There was another long moment of hesitation where I felt my insides being wrung by invisible hands. I could have shit enough bricks to build a school. He grunted, took a long breath, then said, “Alright, son. I’ll be by in the morning to pick you up.”

The bad feelings vanished at once, and my heart shot through the roof. It was instantly the greatest day of my life, the day I got to stay the night at Stefan Baker’s house.

“Thanks, Dad!” I hissed excitedly into the phone, then hung up.

Stefan’s mom must’ve heard me because she looked up right then and caught my eye over the banister. She smiled up at me and spoke in a soft voice. “Are you alright, Ryan? Is your father on the way?”

Shit. I didn’t even ask Stefan’s parents. “I … I was thinking …”

“Sleeping over?” she asked, mercifully sparing me the verbal tap dance.

“Y-Yes, please. If that’s okay.”

Her answer was immediate. “Of course, Ryan. Our house is all yours. Just try not to make too much noise, you two. Rudy’s asleep down the hall.”

Of course. Stefan’s two-year-old brother. I nodded at once. “Thank you, Mrs. Baker.” Then I gave her the world’s tiniest smile and darted excitedly away.

I found Stefan still on his bed, but having rolled onto his back with the Xbox controller resting on his stomach. His head hung off the edge of the bed as he stared at me, upside-down. “What’d he say?” he asked tiredly.

“I can stay over,” I answered, practically beaming.

“Nice,” he mumbled, sounding half-asleep. “Another round?”

“Another round,” I agreed, hopping onto the bed beside him and snatching my controller up.

We played more than just another round; we played ten more rounds. Maybe eleven. Maybe even twelve. Between two of our many rounds, we snuck down to the kitchen and snatched up an opened bag of cheese puffs. He poured the rest into a bowl, which we took back up to his room.

I reached for one and he slapped my hand away. “Nah. If you use your fingers, you’ll turn my controllers orange. Eat them like this.” Then he demonstrated by sticking his tongue out, touching one of them with it—the cheese puff stuck to it like glue—and then retracting his tongue, the little orange ball going right into his mouth where he chewed it away to nothing with that sly, cocky smirk of his. “See? You try.”

I tried. I failed. Three times in a row, the ball didn’t stick to my tongue.

He laughed at me. “Dumbass. You’re licking all of them!”

“I’m trying!” I insisted through my own laugh.

“Yeah, yeah. I ought to make you eat one I licked.”

I snorted at that. “Like hell you would.”

He lifted an eyebrow challengingly, his bright blue eyes on me fiercely. “Don’t dare me, bro. You know I’ll do it.”

My heart raced. Suddenly, I wanted him to do it. But I couldn’t say so. “You wouldn’t freakin’ dare.” My voice was low, defiant, and hardly there.

Stefan’s stare persisted for five more long, hard seconds. Then he snatched one up with his tongue, sucked on it for a second, and pulled it right out of his mouth and held it pinched between his fingers, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “Open wide, bitch.”