Chapter 2
Jamison
The wait wasn't as long as it could have been for a pair of walk-ins, and before long we were back on the sidewalk in front of Planned Parenthood, regarding each other awkwardly as we tried to figure out how to get ourselves out of this unprecedented social situation.
Ending a first date was bad enough. Ending a night that culminated in a trip to the STI clinic?
Definitely a new level of weird. "So uh," I began.
"I should… " I gestured with my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of my apartment.
He spiked a hand through his hair, then immediately tucked it behind his ears in what seemed to be a reflexive motion.
"Yeah, me too. So they, uh, they said we should have test results between two days from now and two weeks from now, depending on each test. Do you want me to, like, keep you updated in real time?
As each one comes in? Or should I just let you know when I have everything?
" He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, then waved the screen at me as if demonstrating what he meant.
I considered that. On the one hand, if I was at risk for something, I'd want to know ASAP.
On the other hand, five or ten separate "negative" or "positive" text exchanges over the next two weeks was…
a lot. "Let's just do one check-in at the end," I finally ventured, "unless, I guess, something really notable pops up. "
Another nod, and he re-tucked his hair. "Yeah. So I guess I'll, uh… I'll talk to you later. Or, well, text you. I wouldn't call you randomly, I swear." And there was that blush again.
I resisted the urge to pinch his cheek in response.
He was just so adorable when he got flustered.
"Text me anytime, cutie," I couldn't help flirting just a little.
Besides, it was as good a way to ease out of this conversation as any.
"Just hopefully with good news." I waggled my phone at him in a modern wave.
"I'll talk to you later." I turned and was gone before he could respond; sometimes a quick exit was the only way to keep things from getting any more awkward.
Twenty minutes and one stop for Starbucks later, I toed off my shoes in my entryway and sighed.
What a rollercoaster of a couple days. Hot sex, check.
Terrifying wake-up call, check. Weird half-date/half-obligation morning spent with a near stranger whose dick had been stuffed up my ass hours earlier… checkmate.
I flopped back onto my couch, holding my Frapuccino out to avoid spillage, and rested my head against the back.
"The fuck were you thinking, Jamie?" I asked myself.
I'd never gone bare with someone before.
And yes, technically the condom application was usually the responsibility of the top, who was in a better position to know whether it was on or not, but that didn't absolve me of all responsibility.
I was a participant too, and I could have stopped or slowed things to check.
I hadn't been incoherent-level drunk. So why hadn't I?
I considered that question as I sucked down more coffee.
By the time the subsequent brain freeze had cleared, I'd reached the conclusion that I hadn't double-checked the condom situation because of a combination of being just drunk enough to reduce my usual sex nerves, and plain old horniness and eagerness to just bust my nut.
Amazing how momentously bad decisions can be made for the most mundane and non-notable of reasons.
I just had to hope this one turned out to not be that momentous.
As I suctioned down the last of my Frapuccino, my phone chimed.
I snatched it up eagerly, even though I knew it could be anything from a test result to spam email.
In this case, I'd lucked out: it was the official record of the result of my rapid HIV test, the only result I was likely to get for at least a few days yet, going into my electronic chart.
I clicked the link that had appeared in my texts, trying not to hold my breath.
I knew they'd told me at the clinic that it came up negative, but part of me couldn't help feeling like this notification was going to yell just kidding, you're positive!
Non-reactive. Which translated to negative.
My breath whooshed out of me. Ok. Ok, so I really hadn't had HIV before last night. That was good. That meant I'd been playing safe and Henry was probably safe from me.
Immediately, I flipped to his contact information.
We'd said we'd share our full results once we had them all, rather than dribbling them out one at a time, but I had an overpowering urge to celebrate this result, and there was only one person I could do that with without having to provide some embarrassing explanations.
I quickly screenshotted the test result and attached it to a text to Hen.
Me: [image] I know we said all at once, but I felt like this was the big confirmation and you deserved to know right away. Starting it off right!
There was no response for a few minutes, and then the three dots began dancing.
Hen Rodriguez: Woot! Mine hasn't come yet but I - oh wait.
Hen Rodriguez: [image] Officially negative! I feel like this takes about 75% of the worry away: we both went into last night almost certainly negative.
Me: [phew.gif]
Grinning, I watched the man in the gif breathe out his relief a few more times.
Me: I guess now we wait and try not to bite our nails until all the other results come in. Good times, good times.
Henry Rodriguez: *crunch*
Me: *double crunch* lol. Ttyl.
I blew out a breath and reached out to run a finger along the still-damp side of my Frapuccino cup.
That hadn't been as awkward as it could have been.
We'd even joked around a little. Hopefully it would stay that easy over the next, yikes, few months.
This was turning out to be the opposite of a forgettable one-night stand, no matter our intentions.
When you need to keep someone updated on your health status for the next three to six months, you kinda can't ghost them even if you wanted to.
Luckily for me, Hen seemed to be both easygoing and easy to talk to.
I just hoped it stayed that way if anything came up positive.