Chapter 46 Slow
Slow
When I approach my front porch, I notice how dark and cold-looking Mr. Hilton’s house is.
There’s a “FOR SALE” sign that’s been sitting on the front lawn for a couple of months now.
But nobody seems to be interested. I understand why.
It’s a long and crazy story. Maybe somebody will write a book about it one day.
Inside my house, it’s also dark. And quiet. Since it’s a Saturday night, my parents are probably at the movies or something.
I walk up the stairs, and I notice that my bedroom light is on. Did I leave it on? Is someone here?
I move past Nash’s room—no one’s in there—and slowly walk to my bedroom door. I look.
Oscar is sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the carpet.
“Oscar?” I say.
Oscar looks up. “Your parents let me in. I hope it’s okay. They went to dinner and a movie. They let me wait here.”
I nod. “Yeah, yeah, no problem. You been waiting long?”
“Nah. Just a few minutes.”
Oscar looks back down at the carpet. I shift my gaze to the wall.
Neither of us say anything for a very long time.
Then, Oscar says, eyes still on the floor, “Can we, like, talk?”
“Sure.”
“Can you close the door?” Oscar asks. “It’s, like, private and shit, and I don’t wanna be interrupted, in case your family comes home.”
I shut the door and lock it.
Once Oscar is sure it’s safe, he says, “Sorry I ghosted you, bro.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I get it. I got you involved in some real fucked up shit. I almost got you killed. I wouldn’t want to talk to me either.”
“Nah,” he says. “It’s not because of that.”
His eyes meet mine again. He’s so handsome.
He purses his lips. He’s having a difficult time trying to say what he wants to say.
Then: “I backed off ’cause I was confused about my feelings. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have backed off. That’s not what best friends do. I wasn’t being a best friend. I wasn’t being any kinda friend. I was being shitty.”
“No,” I say. “It really is okay.”
He says, gently, “Just shut up for a second, Hunter. I’m trying to talk about my feelings and shit.”
I nod.
Oscar gestures to the space on the bed next to him. I sit there. He avoids eye contact.
“I told you. I’m not gay. I’m not bi. And I’m not saying all this ’cause I’m in the closet or some shit. I’m not. You can look at my history on Pornhub, I swear to God.”
If anyone else protested about not being gay as much as Oscar does, I wouldn’t be inclined to believe them. But I actually believe Oscar. And I’m struck by his sincerity, his openness towards me.
Oscar continues, “But with you, somehow, it’s different, I don’t know, it’s crazy. I’m kinda that way for you.”
I say, “Society wants to label people, wants to shove people in a box, force them into a category. But it doesn’t have to be like that. You don’t have to be anything other than Oscar.”
“Okay,” he says. “Now that that’s clear, there’s some other things you gotta understand.”
“All right,” I say.
Oscar says, “I’m not the kinda guy who’s gonna march around in a Pride Parade.
I’m not gonna join the Rainbow Club at school.
I’m not gonna hold hands with a dude in public.
It’s not something I’m gonna tell my mom, gonna tell my sister.
I’m not saying it’s always gonna be like that.
But for now, that’s where I’m at. I mean, where I’m from, guys like me don’t do something like this. ”
“Something like what?” I ask.
Oscar connects his eyes with mine. He holds my face in his hands and leans in. He brushes his lips across mine. I shudder with pleasure.
Oscar extends his tongue just a little and traces my lips. He kisses me. I kiss him back.
He runs the palm of his hand over my shoulder, down my arm, across my chest, down to my stomach. I get goosebumps.
“Yes,” I say. “We can take it slow. We don’t have to follow anybody else’s rules. We can do what’s right for us.”
“Slow,” he says. “I like that. Let’s not do too much at first. Okay, Hunter? Okay?”
“Yes.”
“We don’t have to rush anything, right?”
“Right.”
Oscar says, “I was worried you would want to do everything right away. But I’m not ready yet, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, softly. “We don’t have to do anything. We can just . . . hold each other.”
“I think I would like that,” Oscar says.
Oscar lies down, and I follow suit. We both wriggle until we’re fully on the bed, and we position ourselves correctly, the back of my head resting on a pillow and Oscar’s head resting on my shoulder. My arms are wrapped around him.
“Don’t get me wrong though,” Oscar says. “One day we can do more. Just not today.”
“Yeah, I get it. It’s totally fine. It’s what I want too.”
Oscar says, “One day we can try things. Like, for reals, I was thinking I’d be willing to try some butt stuff.
I mean, like me taking it in the ass. But I think I need to learn more about it first though.
Like maybe there’s a wikiHow page about it or something.
I don’t get how gay dudes can do it. I don’t understand how they’re not scared.
Like, aren’t gay dudes always talking about how they want a big dick?
They’re obsessed about guys with big dicks.
Like, if you’re gonna take it in the ass, why would you want a big dick?
I wouldn’t want a big dick. I wouldn’t be able to handle a big dick.
Man, talking about it out loud is making me even more scared. Scared of big dicks. Sorry, dude.”
I start laughing.
“What, Hunter? What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I say.
But I’m actually delighted by the fact that, in this moment, I’m not only comfortable with who I am on the inside but also comfortable with who I am on the outside.
After a few minutes of the most exquisite silence I have ever experienced in my life, Oscar falls asleep in my arms.
Oscar falls asleep in my arms, but I don’t fall asleep with him.
I don’t fall asleep with him, because I don’t want to.
I don’t want to, because never in my life have I felt the way I do right now.
Right now, I am so pleasantly, so wonderfully, so completely, wide awake.