“Shoot, what do you wanna cum in?” he asks.

I hadn’t thought of that, and no matter how hot he is, I suppose I don’t want all of that on my sheet.

“I’ll get a clean pair of socks. We can use one of those.” I get up, and without thinking of it, I take the sheet with me. The duffel bag of porn falls on the floor and makes a huge thud. I turn and realize I’ve pulled enough of the sheet off Trevor to see his pubes and even a glimpse of his penis. He covers it with his hand, and I turn beet red.

“Sorry,” I say, and I try to hold back a smile.

I have to lean just a bit further to get to my dresser, and to do so, I step far enough away to expose myself just a for a second. I grab the socks from my dresser drawer and glance back.

Trevor turns his head away, but not quickly enough. He was looking at me. I smile, and my heart pounds against my chest.

I sit back down on the bed and hand him a sock.

“You know we’re best friends when I let you cum in my sock,” I say.

He laughs, and it makes me laugh, too.

A few long, awkward seconds later, we touch ourselves. I look at over at Trevor, and he’s staring at the magazine. It’s the picture of the woman fully exposed. I frown, wishing it was a guy he was looking at. I look back at my magazine, and I do stare at the guy while I beat off. But only for a second. I look at Trevor instead of the magazine. I see his face form an O-shape, and he moans and shakes.

I lose it right there, and I nearly yelp in pleasure.

I’m breathing harder than I think I ever have, and Trevor looks over at me. We both smile wide, until we hear footsteps.

Someone’s coming upstairs.

“What are you guys doing? I heard something fall and it sounded like someone yelled.” It’s my mother, and she’s seconds away from entering my room.

Fortunately, we both have our shirts on, but nothing is guarding our bottom half except for this sheet. Trevor reaches for the comforter on the bed and launches it over the duffel bag on the floor.

My heart rate climbs with each creak of the old wooden floor. Mom steps closer to the door, and I put an arm around Trevor.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes wide.

“Trust me,” I say, and I pull him against me and roll on the floor. I adjust the sheet to make sure nothing is showing, and now we’re on top of the comforter over the duffel bag.

The door opens, and Mom shakes her head before she even knows what’s going on—that classic Mom shake of disapproval.

“Christopher, you’re gonna fall through the damn floor one of these days,” she says.

I put on my most charming, innocent smile. “You’ve said that to me for years. Yet still, somehow, the floor remains solid.”

She smiles back, and relief rushes through me. “Hi, Trevor. So, which one are you pretending to be?”

“Huh?” Trevor blushes, and he runs a hand through his hair. It’s short, a light brown that in some lights looks blonde. His face is curved, and he has a tight jawline and broad shoulders. Everything about him screams man, and I feel myself getting excited again.

“Christopher and that stupid wrasslin’ show. Ever since he was a kid, he pretended to be some wrestler jumping around in here, threatening the floor boards,” Mom says and folds her arm. She looks over at me. “Who’s the one you like these days?”

There are two I’m currently obsessed with: Finn Bálor and Jason Jones. Jason has got the hottest ass in the entire WWE, and God knows I’d love to bear-hugged by Finn. That body! He could squeeze me any day. I don’t say these thoughts out loud, of course. “We were reenacting the Undertaker versus Roman Rains. Sorry for the noise, Mom.”

She uncrosses her arms. “Alright, then. Well, no body slams on the floor. Your father and I are trying to watch our shows.” She turns around. “You boys hungry? I could throw a pizza in the oven.”

“Starving,” I say. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Trevor adds.

She nods and walks out of the room, but leaves my door open. We don’t move until we hear the door at the bottom of the stairs close.

We both release a huge sigh of relief and fall back on the floor. Under the sheet, our thighs are touching, and I feel the hair from Trevor’s leg brush against mine. I’m starting to stiffen again. Part of me wants him to see, and part of me is embarrassed. I know we should get dressed in case Mom comes back—that was too close for comfort—but I also don’t want to move. Right next to me is my best friend, the hottest boy in Springfield, and he’s completely naked from the waist down. My thigh presses against his, and I’m not going anywhere.

Then he starts to laugh. Each laugh gets louder, and it’s contagious. I don’t know why we’re laughing, but it doesn’t matter. After a minute, he says to me, “The Undertaker and Roman Rains, huh? You’re an idiot.” He pushes me.

“Hey, she bought it,” I say. “I’m a genius, actually.” I push him back.

He smiles and grabs me, and the next thing I know we are wrestling.

He jumps on top of me, and I laugh. The sheet is still in between us, but now it’s the only thing preventing our penises from touching. I feel mine get even harder, and again I’m torn between wanting him to know and worried how he’d react if he knew he was getting me hard.

I roll him to the side, and that’s when the sheet comes off.