We still have our shirts on, but our legs lock. I feel his penis against my stomach, and to my surprise, he’s hard, too.

I don’t know how to react—it’s hot as hell, but super confusing. Is he into me? So I continue to just wrestle.

I try to pin his arms down, but he slips his hands around my waist and rolls me over. He’s on top now, and his hard penis touches mine. Then he wraps his arms even more tightly around me. I don’t know if it’s a bear hug or a what, and then the strangest thing happens.

I think he’s humping me.

I wrap my arms around him, too, and I close my eyes and release a soft moan. Does this mean what I think it does? Trevor is gay like me and actually likes me like that? A warmth like I’ve never felt shoots through me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

My arms reach up the back of Trevor’s shirt, and I press in on his hard back muscles, willing him to be even closer. His dick moves to my thigh then my stomach as he grinds against me. I think I’m about to cum again, when the damn attic door opens.

“Sausage or plain cheese?” Mom yells.

Trevor and I break away from each other and grab our shorts. I take a look at him, fully hard, as he hops on one leg to pull up his pants. I get dressed, too, in case she climbs those stairs.

“What do you want?” I ask him, my heart still racing.

He smiles. “Sausage.”

I laugh, and he joins in. “Sausage, please. We want all the sausage, Mom!”

“Okay.” We hear the door shut, and then Trevor and I sit on my bed and burst into laughter again.

“We better hide this porn,” he says after a bit.

“Then what?” I ask.

He shrugs, and I wonder if he’ll sleep in bed with me tonight. I have a futon in my room, and normally he takes that, sleeping so far away from me. Will tonight be different? “Let’s just watch a movie and chill,” he says.

I think of the Netflix and chill joke. Does he literally mean watch a movie and chill? Or does “chill” mean there may be more wrestling in our future?

“‘Kay,” I say. Just knowing he’s not running out of my house screaming and is going to spend the night is enough for me.

For now.

*****

We bury the duffel bag in my closet and cover it with stuffed animals I’ve saved throughout my childhood. It’s the strangest irony: porn covered by a plethora of innocent toys. I pick up an octopus that’s missing a leg.

“This used to be my favorite,” I tell Trevor.

He doesn’t say anything, and I wonder if I’m being weird, telling hima bout the little toy I cuddled with through many nights. Now, I sleep alone and wonder if I’ll ever cuddle with a real person. Looking over at Trevor, who has taken a seat on the futon, I wonder if he could be the one. Maybe even tonight. I’ve never slept with another person, not really.

I mean, I’ve shared a bed with another kid before like for an overnight field trip, where we were assigned two to a bed. I’ve had to sleep with cousins during family holidays and stuff like that. But I’ve never had someone—other than a parent—put their arm around me and sleep with me.

Of course, I haven’t had sex, either, except with my right hand. Leftie comes out to play once a week, too. I think I’m getting numb on one side of my penis from masturbating too much. Is that possible? Can I rub off the pleasure points? God, that’s a terrifying thought!

I put the octopus back in the closet and walk over to Trevor. I take a seat next to him, hoping more than anything that he won’t choose to sleep on this damn futon tonight. Just one night in my bed, please! I send a silent prayer, hoping God is cool enough to answer these kind of prayers. I don’t want to have sex. I mean, I do. But where would I start? I have no idea how to make a move or what the hell I would do, or who would do what to who.

I’m getting way ahead of myself. I still don’t know for sure if Trevor is gay. He’s always had a girlfriend, but what kind of guy gets hard and hump-wrestles you in your bedroom?

“So, what do you wanna watch?” I ask.

It’s a small move, but I notice Trevor wiggles a bit away from me, further down on the futon. Why would he do that?

He shrugs. “I dunno.” He looks away, and there’s a new feeling in the room that I don’t like. “What time do you think the strippers will get home?” he asks.

Who cares about the damn strippers? That’s what I want to ask him. “It’s Friday, so late. Three in the morning or so.”

“I hope they have another party,” he says. “I wanna see some tits. Don’t you?” He looks at me, and it’s almost like he’s challenging me.

There’s a weight on my shoulders again. A heavy, depressing weight. It’s the feeling I carry with me whenever I’m trying to hide what I really want or who I really am. It’s a stupid, terrible weight, and I hate it. I think tonight was the first night ever that the weight had vanished. I didn’t even know that it was gone until it returned.

I hate it. But I don’t know what Trevor is really thinking. He must be weirded out by what we’ve done, so I will carry this weight again and play along.

“Absolutely, man. Let’s stay up and wait for them. It’ll be awesome!” I hope my voice doesn’t sound as fake as it feels.

We sit there, binging Netflix shows, for hours. I don’t even know what I’m watching. I just stare at the screen, looking through it, not at it. Somewhere, there’s an answer to who I am and what the hell I should do about it.

Hours go by. We eat pizza in silence, and we watch TV in silence. Finally, Trevor hears the noise he’s been waiting for.

He jumps up and looks out my window.

“They’re back! That’s their car. You ready?”

I’m ready for bed, I think. But I nod.

We sneak out of my house to go stare into the windows of my next door strippers.