I picked him up mid-afternoon. A bit late, of course, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Chris hopped into the passenger seat just as I rolled up, shutting the door, and I could tell he was a mess of nerves. Or maybe I was projecting. I thought about kissing him right then. But that felt like too much. Too fast.

A hug? That was safer. Something familiar. Something we already did.

“Hey!” he said brightly.

I leaned awkwardly toward him, fighting against the seatbelt, trying not to get choked by it.

He met me halfway with a smile and wrapped his arms around me without hesitation.

“You smell nice,” I murmured before I could stop myself.

He laughed softly. “You too.”

The drive was filled with easy conversation—surface-level stuff, half jokes, and aimless updates. But even that felt nice. We were both dancing around what we were really thinking, but somehow, even the silence felt comfortable.

I caught him glancing at me more than once.

I liked that. But I wondered what was going on inside his mind.

***

I took him to the same hilltop Jamie had brought me to a few nights ago.

But I didn’t tell Chris that.

Jamie’s name didn’t belong here.

Not today.

Not with Chris.

I wanted to rewrite that terrible memory. Make it ours. As it should have been.

“Whoa,” Chris said, stepping out and turning in a slow circle. “This is awesome.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah!”

The sun was perfect—warm enough to cut through the cold fall breeze.

We sat at the edge together, and for a while, neither of us spoke.

He scooted closer, just enough for our arms to brush.

“So...” he asked, “is this, like, a date?”

I smiled. “That obvious, huh?”

He tilted his head.

“I mean—only if you want it to be,” I added. “Do you?”

“Yeah...” he said, eyes soft.

We were quiet again. Then I spoke.

“About yesterday...”

He looked at me with that calm, open face I’d grown used to.

It made everything easier.

“I liked it,” I said. “A lot. But I don’t want to rush you. Or—”

“You’re not,” he added quickly. “At all.”

He ran a hand through his hair, slowly.

“It’s just... this is new to me,” he continued. “Even though I’ve dated someone before, this feels different.”

“Different how?”

“Before, I didn’t care about the outcome. Part of me even wanted it to just be over, to be honest. But this time is different. I'm afraid something might blow it off or something.”

I know there was something more gnawing at his brain.

“You can tell me anything,” I said. “You know that, right?”

He let out a quiet laugh. “It’s stupid, but... You always seem so sure of yourself.”

“What?”

“You have way more experience than I do.”

“You’ve dated someone. I haven’t.”

“That doesn’t count.”

It does, though.

“And I’ve only been with, like, two guys,” I said. “Both times were sloppy, half-drunk mistakes I barely remember. Wanna know something? I was actually surprised when you pulled me in for that second kiss.”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking—I just... wanted to. But when I do think, I get stuck in my own head. It’s easier when things just happen, you know?”

Then he sighed. Deeply.

“Just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I don’t want things just the same.”

I smiled. I liked him like this—unfiltered, a little braver than he thought he was.

Because this felt like the real him. The Chris buried underneath all the anxiety.

“Then don’t think,” I said quietly. “Just be you. We’ll figure it out together.”

He leaned in a little, his gaze flicking to my mouth.

“Do whatever you feel like.”

“Like this?” he whispered.

And he kissed me, just like he had the other day.

Slowly, but surely.

His hand found mine, fingers curling just enough to anchor us both.

This wasn’t like kissing Jamie. Hot and impulsive, tinged with desperation.

This was different.

Slow. Thoughtful. Intimate in a way that made me ache.

There was no chaos. No second-guessing.

Just... him.

Just us.

And for once, my mind didn’t drift. It stayed right here, grounded in the moment.

So this is the real deal, huh?

“Hey... I—” I took a breath in. “I know this sounds lame, but I’m serious about this. Us. I don’t want you to think this is some, like, hookup. It's not.”

Chris gave the faintest smile, his thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles.

“I didn’t think it was.”

He leaned his forehead against mine.

“I’m serious, too.”

I kissed him. Again. And again. Still not believing this was real. Tracy was right. This is worth every single painful moment.

The sun beat down on us, warm against my back. Or maybe that was just the post-make-out heat haze. Either way, I tugged off my hoodie and tossed it aside.

Chris pointed at it. “Mind if I...?”

I shrugged. “You know you can just keep it if you want.”

“First of all, I’m cold.”

“Lies.”

He pressed his hand to my neck—ice cold.

I flinched. “Jesus! Okay, okay. Point taken.”

“Second,” he said, already pulling it on, “that defeats the purpose. I promise I’ll give it back later.”

I grinned. “Deal.”

He fiddled with the sleeves for a second, then got quiet.

“I, uh... I have something to confess,” Chris said, voice softer now.

“Who did you murder?”

“Haha, very funny.”

“What is it then?”

He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek before speaking again.

“Okay, don’t freak out, but... I kind of already knew. That you were gay.”

I froze for a second.

Not because I was mad, but because I hadn’t expected that.

All this time, I thought I’d dropped that truth like a fragile bomb. But apparently, he’d seen the smoke before I even lit the fuse.

“Uh... yeah. I’m here kissing you. Doesn’t seem very straight of me.”

Chris laughed, but shook his head. “No—I mean, way before this. Before we even met.”

“...What?”

He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes darting briefly to the ground. “After I came out to my cousin, like, right after I moved here, she told me about you. Said there was this guy who’d been outed, made a whole thing of it. Basically described everything.”

My stomach tensed a little.

Not because he meant any harm, but because being remembered that way still stung a bit. Like being known for a scar before someone ever sees your face.

“Why didn’t you tell me? When I told you everything about being outed and how much it sucked?”

He looked sheepish. “You just seemed so... embarrassed when you opened up about it. I didn’t want to make it worse. Or remind you that everyone already knew. Even the random guy who’d barely unpacked his suitcase.”

I blinked at him. Then slowly grinned.

“So you’ve been stalking me this whole time. You little perv. Was the whole Benson thing part of your long con?”

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Yeah, you caught me. Master plan fully executed.”

“Evil genius.”

“But jokes aside,” he said, suddenly quieter, “that is part of why I invited you over that day. I did feel bad for you. And a little guilty, I guess.”

Guilt. I hated that word.

But somehow, hearing it from him didn’t feel insulting.

It felt... human.

“But also... I don’t know.” He looked at me again, earnest now. “I had this feeling you’d get it. Like, if I ever needed to talk about stuff about coming out, or just figuring it all out, you’d understand. Even though we’d just met. It sounds dumb, doesn’t it?”

“No. No, it’s not dumb. It makes total sense to me.”

He exhaled, like he’d been holding that in longer than he realized.

“When my cousin first showed me who you were, I remember thinking, ‘Sure, he’s hot—’”

“‘I’d tap that,’” I added helpfully.

He groaned, blush creeping across his face. “You really want me to say it, huh?”

“Just confirming the facts.”

“Well, no comment,” he muttered.

I smirked.

“But seriously,” he said. “It wasn’t just that. I mean... I didn’t want to be with some guy just because he was gay and cute. I’ve never been like that.”

“I know.”

“But then we met. And, to be honest? At first, I thought you were kind of unhinged.”

“Fair.”

“But then I saw that you weren’t just... loud, angry. You were funny. And smart. And way cooler than I expected.”

“Aw, stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” I was joking. Partially.

He smiled, then grew thoughtful again. “I do feel kinda guilty for not telling you I was gay earlier.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not some race to disclose stuff,” I said. “You told me when you were ready. And honestly? That was the best news I’d gotten in forever. So, in sum, what you just said is that you were stalking me.”

Chris narrowed his eyes. “Oh my God, Troy... You didn’t hear a single word I just said, did you?”

“I did! I just let me live my fantasy, okay?”

He kissed me—maybe just to shut me up.

And it worked.

Because being with him like this? It felt right.

Like we were finally syncing up after months of static.

***

I parked in his driveway later that evening, and I already knew I was gonna hate that part.

“Thanks for today,” he said, reaching for the door. “And for putting in the effort. It was great.”

“It really was,” I said. “Can we stay here the rest of the night, though?”

“I wish... But hey, we’ll see each other tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

We lingered there, neither of us moving. Our eyes locked. The whole car felt like it was holding its breath.

I glanced around, made sure no one was watching, then leaned in and kissed him.

It felt natural now. Effortless.

“Can I ask you a favor?” he said afterward.

“Sure.”

“Can we, like... not kiss at school and stuff?”

I smiled. “I’m glad you said that, honestly.”

“It’s not that I’m embarrassed to be seen with you,” he added quickly, “I just... I’m not big on PDA.”

“Perfect. Yeah, me neither,” I said. “And also... I get it. You’re not out.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

It’s not like I’m a prude, I’m obviously not, but I’ve always liked the idea of keeping these things private.

Not hidden. Not a secret. Just... ours.

It’s no one else’s business.

And honestly? The less school drama, the better. For both of us.

“What about at work, though?” I teased.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Hmm... Storage room. If there are no customers.”

He pulled my hoodie off, and his shirt came with it, clinging, bunching, staging a full-on protest about being left behind.

I stared.

More skin than I’d ever seen on him before.

My brain? Gone. Left the chat.

Part of me was rooting for the shirt to just commit to the bit, but nope, he tugged it back down before I could even process what I was looking at.

Unfortunately, he caught me.

He tilted his head. “Yes?”

Cue instant facial combustion.

“Nothing. Nope. Totally normal over here.”

His eyes narrowed. “You were staring.”

Shit. He’s onto me.

“I, uh—your shirt…” I flapped a hand like that explained anything.

“Oh. Yeah, sorry.”

Now we were both tomato cosplay enthusiasts.

Then he held out his hand. A smile on his face. So I gave him mine, because apparently, I make great life choices under pressure. Slowly, painfully slowly, he guided it under his shirt, until my fingertips rested against his waist.

Warm. Soft. Illegal levels of distracting.

And then he kissed me—quick, sweet, absolutely devastating—before stepping out and closing the door like he hadn’t just caused a minor emotional earthquake.

God… this boy really has me in a chokehold, huh? And I’m just letting it happen. No resistance. Full simp mode.

I still haven’t figured him out. One second he’s blushing and avoiding eye contact, the next he’s pulling me in like he’s done it a hundred times. He’s a walking contradiction, in the best way possible. It’s like getting the best of both worlds. I never thought I’d say this, but... I’m such a lucky guy. Not just because I get to kiss him, but because he sees me. The real me. And somehow, he still wants more.