Swing for the Fences

by Little Buddha

Chapter 28

"What the hell did you do to my brother?!"

Christian's voice slammed into the room like a thunderclap as he barged through the door without knocking. Jack and I practically levitated off the bed. Thankfully, we hadn't been doing anything… compromising. But we had forgotten to lock the door. Again. That could've gone a whole different kind of sideways.

"Christian – whoa – breathe," Jack said, hands up in mock surrender. "You trying to give us a heart attack?"

"You might want to sit down," I added, patting the end of the bed like we were about to deliver a terminal diagnosis.

He didn't sit. Just stood there, chest heaving, hands on his hips, looking like he was ready to deck both of us.

"We didn't hurt Jonah," I said quickly. "We just… told him some things he needed to hear."

"Things like what?" he snapped.

Jack and I took turns explaining what had led up to the conversation with Jonah. The way he treated Danny – like a prop, or worse, an afterthought. How his jokes had gone from endearing to disrespectful. How dismissive he could be. And how, for someone who claimed to be Danny's boyfriend, Jonah didn't act like he was in a relationship at all.

Christian's shoulders slowly dropped as we talked, though his jaw was still tight.

"Where is he now?" I asked softly.

"In our room," he muttered. "Crying his eyes out and rambling about how you two don't want to be his friends anymore."

Jack winced. "Poor guy," he mumbled. "We didn't think he'd freak out that bad."

"Yeah," I said, rubbing my temples. "We were trying to help him. Not… devastate him."

"He also, uh, told us he's in love with us," Jack added, glancing at Christian cautiously.

"Like… both of us. As in, he wants to be our boyfriend. Plural."

Christian blinked. "A throuple ? Are you serious? How does he even know what that is?"

"He knows a lot of things about a lot of things," I shrugged.

Christian ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. "Man, that's… kind of messed up. Even for him. And yeah, he shouldn't be treating Danny like that. We have good parents , not like most of the rich kids' parents here. They raised us right, to treat people with respect and dignity, never to look down on other people."

He sighed and looked genuinely guilty. "I'm sorry I came at you so hard. I should've been paying more attention to him. That kid's a lot. You guys are really good friends – not just to each other, but to everyone."

"Don't worry, man, we'll figure it out," Jack said, patting Christian on the shoulder.

Christian stepped forward and gave each of us a long, sincere hug, the kind you don't expect from a guy like Christian unless something huge just happened. Then he fist-bumped us both with a tight-lipped smile. "I'll go talk to him. Try to get through that thick skull of his."

After he left, the silence in the room hung heavy, but it wasn't the bad kind. Jack nudged my arm. "Well, Dr. Phil, feel like a walk?"

I smiled. "Yeah. Let's go out to the bleachers for some romantic spring night cuddling. Maybe a smooch or two."

We threw on our jackets and headed for the front door. As we passed through the common room, we spotted Danny lying on one of the couches, staring at the ceiling. His face was puffy-eyed but dry, like he'd already done his crying and had nothing left.

"Hey, bro," Jack said, kneeling beside him. "What's up?"

Danny gave a small shrug. "Jonah doesn't want to be my boyfriend anymore."

We already had a pretty good idea why, but Jack gently asked, "What happened?"

"He said I was suffocating him," Danny muttered. "Said he wanted someone more mature … and that he's in love with someone else."

Ouch.

Jack and I exchanged a glance. That wasn't self-reflection – that was bitterness disguised as truth.

"I'm really sorry, Danny," I said quietly. "How are you doing with all that?"

Danny bit his lip, then looked at us with surprising clarity. "I'm bummed. I liked him. Sometimes. Especially when he was being funny. But… I kind of always knew he wasn't really treating me right. I probably deserve someone better. Or maybe I'm just not ready for a boyfriend yet."

Jack nodded slowly, impressed. "You've really got your head screwed on right, dude. That's super mature."

"Thanks," Danny said with a little smile.

"We really like you, Danny," I added. "And we're serious – we'd love it if you came to hang out with us more. Not just when Jonah's around."

"Well, I really only got to be friends with you guys because of Jonah, and he's probably not gonna want me around anymore, so …"

" No, no, no , dude!" Jack interrupted. "We're friends with you because of you , not Jonah."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better?" he asked, skeptical.

Jack shook his head. "Nope. Not at all. We were literally just talking about how much we'd like to be better friends with you."

"Uh-huh," I nodded, agreeing.

Danny hesitated, then stood up and gave each of us a tight hug. "Okay. I'd like that."

He headed off to his room with a soft "Goodnight," and Jack and I looked at each other with the same thought.

"We should be, like, the official gay relationship counselors of Harrison West," I whispered.

Jack grinned. "And we accept cuddles for payment."

But as we stepped out into the crisp night air, we couldn't help but think about Jonah.

For all his chaos and madness, he was probably the most special friend we had. And we were really going to miss him if he didn't figure himself out. He was like the glue that held our little group together, our little feral goblin mascot. And his snuggles. No one could snuggle better than Jonah.

"Christian will talk to him," I said, as if saying it out loud would make it true. "Christian's one of the good ones."

Jack nodded. "And we'll do whatever we can to help."

"Yeah, Christian's totally cool," I repeated dreamily, as if in a daze.

"Wait a minute," Jack smirked at me. "You still totally have a crush on Christian!"

I blushed. "Only a tiny one."

Jack snorted. "Liar."

We reached the front steps, only to spot another familiar figure perched on the stone ledge out front. Kit Wheeler, legs crossed, flipping casually through a beat-up copy of Interview with the Vampire. Despite the cool spring evening air, he was wearing only a T-shirt and gym shorts, showcasing the muscles in his legs. He must have been freezing!

"Hey, Kit," Jack called.

Kit looked up, grinned, and gave us each a fist bump as we joined him.

"Didn't know you were a vampire guy," I said.

Kit smirked. "Gotta know your gay canon, right? Besides, Anne Rice is so much better than Buffy or Twilight or any of that crap."

We laughed. Kit was the perfect example of why you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. He looked like your stereotypical golden-boy jock – biceps, perfect hair, the whole deal – but underneath all that, he was a nerd, like us. A smart, thoughtful, gear-obsessed, Andes-hiking, emotionally intelligent nerd. And, yeah, totally hot. Emery clearly had excellent taste in boys.

"You mind if we chat for a bit?" Jack asked.

"Sure, go ahead," Kit said. "Ask me anything."

It turned out Kit was from a small town just outside Grand Rapids, Michigan – one of those places with more trees than people and where everyone knows the name of each other's dog. His family owned a large outdoor sporting goods company – one that had contracts with national parks and sponsored extreme athletes, making it a significant enterprise. It made sense, then, that their idea of a "family vacation" was scaling cliffs in Patagonia and field-testing gear in the Andes instead of sipping fruity drinks on a beach. Kit had practically grown up in hiking boots. He could name different types of climbing harnesses faster than I could solve a basic algebra problem.

He was fifteen, almost sixteen, and somehow managed to juggle football, basketball, cross-country, and weightlifting like it was nothing. He wasn't cocky about it, though. Just one of those maddeningly humble guys who could bench his body weight, then offer to carry your backpack up a mountain without breaking a sweat. The kind of person who made you feel both impressed and vaguely inferior – like a walking Gatorade commercial who also helped old ladies cross the street.

But there was something else about him, too – something quiet and thoughtful underneath the muscles and the Patagonia cred. He listened more than he talked. And when he did talk, it wasn't just about sports stats or protein shakes. He asked questions that made you think. It was like he was trying to figure out the world in real time, just like the rest of us – but from the top of a mountain instead of the bottom.

At some point, I blushed and asked, "So… did you, like, accidentally join the gay table at lunch that day?"

Kit let out a deep belly laugh. "Emery warned me."

"At least Emery's new friend isn't a homophobe," Jack said.

Kit raised an eyebrow. "Would be pretty weird to be a gay homophobe."

It took us a second, then in unison: "Oooooooooooh!"

We all cracked up at how stupid we were.

"So…" Jack said, leaning forward with a grin, "is there anything going on between you and Emery?"

Kit gave a little shrug, but the tips of his ears turned pink. "Not yet," he said. "But I'm kinda hoping. He's… really sweet. And super smart. And – yeah – pretty damn cute."

He looked down at his book. "I've never had a boyfriend before. Never kissed a guy. My parents don't know yet, either. But I think they'd be cool. I might tell them over spring break."

"Sounds like you've got your head on straight," I said. "Well – gay. You know what I mean."

Kit laughed again. "Thanks."

"You know," Jack added, leaning in like he was sharing a secret, "Emery's a total softie for romance. So maybe try packing a little picnic – something with fancy cheeses and sausages, a couple bottles of sparkling apple cider, and a big beach blanket. Then find a quiet, tucked-away spot near the lake, spread everything out, snack a little, talk about nerdy stuff, and tell him how you feel. You'd probably score a kiss out of it too – maybe more if the cider hits right."

I was impressed by my boyfriend's idea. Heck, I would love it if he did something like that for me! Kit seemed impressed too, and said he might give it a try.

Eventually, Kit stood, said goodnight, and jogged off toward the library.

Jack and I turned to head back inside, both feeling a little lighter – and maybe even a little wiser. Who knew? Perhaps we really did have a future in gay matchmaking or couples counseling! We'd already helped – well, tried to help – Jonah figure his stuff out, and now Kit was halfway to planning a romantic lakeside picnic with Emery. The only one left to "fix" was Mark… and that was going to be a tough nut to crack.

No one really knew what kind of guys Mark liked – if any. He never mooned over crushes or complained about being single. He just seemed… fine. Content with who he was. But then again, maybe he wasn't. Maybe there was more going on behind that calm, sarcastic exterior than any of us realized.

Still, a quiet voice in the back of my mind reminded me that maybe I should stop trying to micromanage everyone else's love life and focus on my own. Jack and I had come a long way – but that didn't mean we didn't have work left to do.

When we arrived back at Linden Hall, we walked through the common room and past the kitchenette to get to the back staircase. When we walked past the kitchenette, something smelled a little "off," so we poked our heads inside. Mr. Johnston was in there, brewing something godawful that smelled like a combination of sulfur, hair dye, and cat piss.

He looked up and smirked. "How are the two pretty boys doing tonight? Don't get up to anything too dirty!"

We practically sprinted for the stairs.

Once in our room, we bolted the lock and pushed a chair in front of the door.

"Gross," Jack muttered.

"Nope. Done. Never eating anything he makes again."

We stripped down, showered fast down the hall, and climbed into bed. We put on a movie, as usual, but the movie was mostly just background noise. I curled into Jack's side and buried my face in his shoulder.

"Do you think we're actually helping people?" I asked.

Jack kissed the top of my head. "I think we're trying. It would be nice not to be the only couple in our friend group."

"Now, if only we could turn Christian gay," I said, scratching my chin and flashing Jack a diabolical look.

"Doofus," Jack said, punching me on the shoulder.

I couldn't believe spring break was only a few days away, and Jack and I still hadn't figured out what we were going to do. Every time we brought it up, we just kind of… looked at each other and shrugged. But we were out of time now. We had to choose something – anything – before Jack ended up spending an entire week with Mr. Johnston, who at this point I was 90% sure had bodies buried in his backyard. Or maybe in the crawl space under his room. That guy gave off serious serial killer energy.

Of course, I could go home anytime I wanted, so that was my refuge if I didn't come up with any spring break plans, but obviously, I wasn't going to leave Jack behind. So, home it was for both of us, but still, being stuck at home the whole week wasn't exactly going to make for the best spring break.

There would be no crazy beach stories or Instagrammable sunsets. Just my modest house, my mom's frozen lasagna, and hopefully a couple of quiet days before real life started again.

Mom was working all week in the ER, though she promised to try to switch a shift or two so she could be around more. And when I say "around," I mean for both of us. She had started referring to Jack as one of her boys. Plural. And honestly, I kind of loved that. Jack had won her over without even trying. He was sweet, kind, funny in the weirdest ways, and yeah, a little rough around the edges – but she saw what I saw. That underneath all of Jack's chaotic energy and sarcasm was someone who really cared. Someone who made me better.

We wrapped up our last classes on Thursday, then had the rest of that day and Friday morning to pack and get ourselves together. Mom was coming to pick us up late on Friday morning.

Thursday night, the dorm turned into pure chaos. Some guys were packing, some were running around like they'd just chugged six Red Bulls, and others were lounging in the common room like they were already on vacation. The rules were relaxed, which meant we could have a proper sendoff with the people we cared about most.

Our room became the official headquarters of the unofficial spring break slumber party. First to arrive were Mark and Emery, followed by Danny, then Kit and Christian. No sign of Jonah, and Christian admitted he wasn't sure if his little brother would show. It made sense – it could get awkward, considering… everything.

Around nine, the door creaked open again. Mr. Johnston slithered in wearing a brown and orange cardigan that looked as though it had been pulled from a 1970s cult documentary, and corduroy pants thick enough to smother a small animal.

He narrowed his eyes at us. "Keep it down. If I have to come back, I'll shut this whole thing down."

Just as he turned to leave, he stopped in the doorway, glanced over his shoulder with a truly evil grin, and then let out the most god-awful, prolonged fart I've ever heard in my life. It was like a demon exorcising itself through his ass.

He fanned it toward his nose, sniffed, and sighed like he was admiring a fine wine. "That one's a keeper," he said, then looked directly at me. "Dedicated to you, Kincaid."

"Well, I'll leave you boys to it," he said, as if nothing had happened. "I think I made a mess in my pants, so I'd better go clean that up and save it for later."

He left, and we all stood frozen. Shocked. Horrified.

"How is he allowed near children?" Emery whispered.

"I think my soul just left my body," Kit added, pressing a pillow to his face.

We were still recovering when another knock came at the door. I got up, still nauseated, and opened it – only to feel my stomach drop again for a very different reason.

Noah.

He stood there, looking nervous and disheveled, like someone who'd wandered in from God knows where.

"What do you want?" I asked, stiffly.

The room behind me went quiet. All my friends – our friends – arose from the floor like a silent army, with Christian standing right behind me, fist clenched.

"I just want to talk," he said quickly. "I know I don't deserve it, but… please. Five minutes."

I looked at Jack. His eyes were hard and cold, and he was shaking his head at me, silently pleading. But I stepped toward him and touched his arm.

"Please, Jack. I have to. I need closure, and if I talk to him, maybe he'll finally leave me alone."

Jack let out a long, exhausted sigh and threw himself face-first onto the bed. Not a word. Just pure frustration.

I stepped into the hallway with Noah, already bracing myself.

"I'm sorry," he began. "I know I was a total asshole. I really liked you, Nick. I wanted to be better. I met you, and I thought you were an amazing guy, so good and honest . I thought you would be a good influence on me. But I suck at self-control. Being a decent human being. At keeping it in my pants. I know I destroyed you. You deserved to have a good first gay experience with someone, and I'm just sorry it had to be with me."

I was floored by what he said. It almost sounded … sincere . But why should I believe a word he said after what he did to me?

I crossed my arms. "Did you ever cheat on me besides the night of my birthday?"

He looked at the floor. "Yeah. A few times. Including at the Halloween party."

I felt something boil up inside me – hot, fast, bitter.

I was trying with all my might to hold back the tears. "Was it worth it, Noah?"

He looked at me for a few moments. Really looked at me. "No, it wasn't."

"And why do you think I should accept your apology? It's ancient history now. I've got a great boyfriend, a great group of friends, and I'm happy for once. You should just let it go."

"Well, see, it's not totally my fault. I'm, like, horny all the time, and you were kind of a prude. "

WHAT?!?!

I was suddenly seeing red and thinking of where I could hit him to draw the most blood. Nose? Mouth? Maybe just kick him in the crotch?

"I'm glad you found Jack," he said suddenly. "I always thought you two should've been together from the beginning."

So, which is it, Noah, you think I'm some great guy or I'm a "prude?"

"Don't," I snapped. "Don't you dare say his name. You don't get to talk about him. He's everything you weren't. You just used me because you thought I was stupid and easy. But at least you taught me how to grow up."

Noah flinched. "I meant it when I said I'm sorry."

I turned to go back inside, but then he had the audacity to ask, "Could we maybe… start over as friends someday? Maybe exchange blowjobs or something? I could teach you a bunch of things to try on Jack."

Before I could answer, there was a blur of movement – a streak of blond and fury – and suddenly Jonah appeared, sprinting down the hallway like a tiny missile fueled by too much sugar and adolescent rage.

" Braveheart! " he shrieked as he ran straight up to Noah and kicked him in both shins.

Noah doubled over, cursed, and limped back to his room without even looking back.

Jonah stood there, breathing hard.

I blinked at him. "Um."

"He had it coming," Jonah said, shrugging. "Now maybe he'll think twice before trying to oppress the people of Scotland."

We walked back into the room together, and all the guys turned, shocked.

Jonah raised a hand dramatically. "I have something to say."

Of course he did.

"I've been a jerk. A major, undeniable, self-absorbed jerk. Especially to Danny."

He turned toward Danny, who sat quietly near the foot of Jack's bed.

"I know I'm not ready for a boyfriend," Jonah continued. "But I want to be better. And I hope you guys will still let me be part of this group. Because… you're my people. And Danny, I'm especially sorry to you."

The room went quiet. Then Mark stood and hugged him. One by one, everyone followed. Kit. Christian. Emery. Jack. And finally, Danny.

"You're a mess," Danny said, hugging him tight. "But I forgive you."

Eventually, we all settled down. Jonah kept arguing with Christian about whether oranges were just fancy, soulless lemons, while Mark and Kit debated whether George R.R. Martin would ever finish The Winds of Winter .

Jack and I shared my bed, fully clothed this time, our legs tangled together under the blanket. Across the room, Kit and Emery curled up on Jack's bed, where Kit gently ran his fingers through Emery's dark hair, and Emery gazed up at him worshipfully.

"Kiss him, Kit! Kiss him!" Jonah egged them on.

Kit and Emery were still staring into each other's eyes, and Kit leaned in ever so slowly and gently brushed his lips against Emery's. I thought poor Emery was going to faint, but it was the sweetest, purest thing I'd seen in a long time.

As the voices quieted and the room went dim, I let my head rest on Jack's chest. I felt warm. Safe.

Maybe we didn't have a tropical getaway or a yacht or a hiking expedition to Patagonia—

but we had this.

We had each other.

I was the first one awake on Friday morning. The room was still and warm, filled with soft, rhythmic breathing and limbs scattered across blankets and sleeping bags. It looked like some kind of beautiful chaos – the kind only friendship could make feel sacred.

Kit had taken his shirt off at some point during the night, and Emery was curled up against him like a baby koala clinging to its mother, his cherubic face tucked against Kit's smooth chest. It was stupidly cute. Christian and Jonah were curled up on a pallet near the closet – Jonah's leg thrown over his brother like a dog marking its territory.

Mark had somehow passed out on Jack's desk, his hoodie pulled over his head like a suburban Grim Reaper. And Jack – my Jack – on his stomach in my bed, snoring like a baby walrus and drooling all over the pillow. I watched his chest rise and fall, and it hit me again like it always did: he was mine . Completely and totally mine .

I didn't see Danny at first, but five minutes later, the door creaked open and there he was, freshly showered, damp hair curling at the tips. He gave me a sleepy smile as he padded back inside.

Everything felt so… peaceful. So real. So good.

Yeah, I was still a little bummed that we weren't doing anything cool or exciting for Spring Break, but that didn't matter as much right now. I was going home. With Jack. With my best friend in the world.

My eyes drifted over to Jonah. He looked so different when he slept – soft, still, almost angelic. Not a trace of chaos or snark. Just Jonah, as he could be, without the performance. I felt this weird, intense ache in my chest – part of me just wanted to pull him up into bed with us and snuggle him until he burst into glitter. But I knew we couldn't go there. We couldn't lead him on.

Still… I loved him. I really did. He was like the little brother I never had. And despite the stuff that had happened over the last few days – the hurt and the drama – I hoped that was all behind us now. He meant too much to me. Aside from Jack, he was my closest friend. And when we got back from break, we'd be celebrating his fourteenth birthday.

God help us all.

Gradually, everyone started waking up – stretching, yawning, groaning like old men. One by one, they packed up and trickled back to their rooms to finish gathering their things. Jonah was the last one left.

He wandered over to me in his oversized hoodie, eyes still half-closed, and wrapped his arms around me like a weighted blanket.

"Thank you for not giving up on me," he whispered into my shoulder. "I love you, and you're my best friend. I don't know what I'd do without you. I promise I'll be better now."

That was one of the sweetest and most sincere things he'd ever said to me.

Before I could even respond, Jack walked over and wrapped his arms around us both from behind. It turned into a long, warm, breathless three-way hug. And then Jack blew a giant raspberry on Jonah's neck.

"GAHH— WHAT THE HELL ," Jonah shrieked, jumping back and swatting at Jack like an angry feral cat whose tail just got stepped on.

"Sorry," Jack said with a grin. "Couldn't resist the neck fluff."

It took us another fifteen minutes to gather our things. Then, with a stealth worthy of a prison break, we slipped out the back exit of Linden Hall, praying we wouldn't run into Mr. Johnston. Who knew what kind of fermented horror he was storing in his colon this morning? He probably had one marinating. Either that or he was strategically placing jars of his own urine around the dorm as a "welcome back" gift after Spring Break. He was one creepy dude, and I honestly wasn't sure we'd survive the rest of the semester with him as our dorm parent. The job was supposed to mean "nurturing, helpful … basically a parent." Mr. Johnston, though, was more like that weird uncle who only appeared at Thanksgiving every third year, sat alone in the corner, stroking the tassels on the tablecloth, drinking warm milk out of an old coffee tin, and smelled faintly of mothballs and shame. He had that "guy who collects antique ventriloquist dummies" vibe – except you just knew they weren't in a display case, they were sitting in chairs around his living room waiting for him to come home and decide which had been naughty, and then "punishing" them.

As we rounded the corner to the front gate, Mom's SUV pulled up. The passenger window rolled up – and there, nose pressed against the glass like a cartoon, was Mr. Bojangles.

The moment the car stopped, the door burst open, and he launched himself at me, tail whipping, tongue flailing.

"Hey, boy! You miss me?" I laughed as he tackled me to the ground. Jack got the next wave of affection – licks, jumps, and a bark that sounded suspiciously like "I love you."

Once we got him calmed down and back into the car, we tossed our bags into the trunk and hopped in. Mom smiled at us in the rearview mirror.

"Well, there are my two handsome boys."

Jack beamed. I swear, his whole face lit up.

Mom peppered him with questions the whole drive. About his classes, teachers, and grades. Whether he'd made any new friends. "Are you still getting along with that annoying roommate of yours?" she asked, patting his knee.

Jack laughed and grinned the whole way home, and I couldn't stop smiling. She knew exactly what he needed – and gave it to him in spades. It was the kind of mothering he'd never gotten. And I loved her for it.

That night, she made beef stroganoff with sour cream, mashed potatoes, and Brussels sprouts. Jack had thirds. After dinner, we all sat in the living room with mugs of Sleepytime tea. Jack and I shared the blue loveseat, legs tucked up against each other. Mom curled into the oversized couch, looking at us like we were the stars of some Hallmark movie.

Then she asked him the tricky question.

"Have you heard anything from your parents?"

Jack's smile faded. "No. Not since the school called them about the whole… 'sexual activity' thing."

Mom frowned. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. We'll figure something out."

"I'm just… scared," Jack said, his voice soft. "What if they don't pay for next semester? I don't have anywhere else to go. I can't live with them again."

Mom was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, "Do you have any relatives? Anyone who might be able to help?"

"I mean… I have a grandmother. On my mom's side. She lives in Seattle. But I haven't seen her in years. I don't know if she'd even talk to me."

"It's a start," Mom said gently. "Maybe it's worth reaching out. Just to see."

Jack nodded slowly, like he wasn't sure how to feel.

"And what about school?" she asked. "Any backlash from the administration over… everything?"

We both shook our heads.

"No," I said, "but Mr. G got let go."

Mom's eyes widened. "Seriously? But he was – he was wonderful!"

"He was, although he didn't handle that whole situation the best," Jack said quietly. "Now we've got Mr. Johnston."

"Oh God," I groaned. "He's horrible. Creepy, awful breath, smells like a mixture of Pepto Bismol, rotten fish, and roadkill at the height of summer. He also farts on purpose and even smells his own farts, wafts them toward his nose like he's smelling an expensive bottle of wine. He's even made some pretty lewd comments towards the two of us."

Mom looked genuinely horrified. " Excuse me?! "

"I'm not kidding," I said. "He farted in our room and said it was dedicated to me. "

She shook her head. "That's disgusting. That man shouldn't be around kids. I'm going to write to someone. That is not okay at all."

And then – of course – she hit us with it.

"So… how's your love life going? Everything still going well between you boys?"

I nearly dropped my mug. Even Mr. Bojangles let out a groan from the rug like Please no, Mom.

I bit the bullet so Jack wouldn't have to, and hopefully steer her away from another talk . "It's fine. We've just been… enjoying each other's company. Nothing major to report. Nothing to be concerned about. Just lots of snuggles, smooches, and holding hands. We love each other an awful lot."

Mom gave us a look – one that was somehow both suspicious and full of unconditional love. "Good. Be smart. Be gentle. Take care of each other. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," we said in unison.

But then that got me thinking about something Noah had said to me the other night. Was I really a prude ? Would Jack get tired of me because I wasn't moving fast enough?

Mom headed upstairs to bed a few minutes later – early shift in the morning. We waited until we heard her door click shut.

Then we raced down to the basement, Mr. Bojangles hot on our heels.

With no Mr. Johnston, no schedule, no eyes on us – we finally had the privacy we craved.

We took a shower together – slow, quiet, tender. Soaping each other's backs and butts. I even stealthily slipped a hand into Jack's butt crack, which caused him to whimper involuntarily. Rinsing each other off. Touching extensively but not rushing.

Afterward, we streaked through the house giggling like lunatics (I loved watching Jack's cute, lily-white bubble butt while he ran), grabbed snacks from the kitchen, and collapsed into "our" bed in the basement.

We kissed. A lot. Snuggled. Squeezed each other's smooth, fleshy butts. Held each other as the hours slipped away. The world was quiet, but our feelings for each other were not.

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