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Would he melt into me? Would he trace the lines of my muscles with those delicate fingers?

I pull my hands back, not because I want to, but because I need to before I do something stupid. “So, are you going to write a term paper on my hands now?”

Elliot smirks. “Maybe I’ll start a blog, too. Call itThe Hand Kink Enthusiast.”

We both laugh, and the tension eases a bit. But there’s still that undercurrent of something more. Something dangerous and exciting.

“Elliot…I’m carving pumpkins this weekend with the coach’s son, Alex. You should come.”

He gazes up at the sky as he considers my request. I shift in my seat, unable to contain my anxiety as the seconds tick by. I also refrain from making a peep because I don’t want Elliot to be any more indecisive than he already is.

He sighs, and my heart sinks in anticipation of the letdown. “Okay.”

Relief and shock flood through me. “Great! Let’s swap numbers.”

I pull out my phone and hand it to him. He punches in his digits and hands it back to me. I can’t stop the smile when I see hisname—Elliot Montgomery—saved in my contacts. It’s a step in the right direction.

I quickly text him so he has my number, too. “Saturday at one. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

The rest of the week whizzes by in a blur of practice, classes, and thinking about Elliot.

I keep wondering if I’m in over my head with this—whatever this is. He’s so sure of himself, so certain about who he is and what he wants. And here I am, floundering in uncharted waters.

14

GERARD

Carving pumpkins is a messy business. Innards tend to go flying, and there’s a genuine possibility of slicing a finger and bleeding out.

Impressing somebody isalsoa messy business. There’s the potential to spit, sneeze, or even choke on your saliva.

So, how should one dress for both occasions on the same day?

Casually? A little better than usual? Same as always?

I’ve never been the most inquisitive guy, but today is a day of firsts, which means it’s time to call in the big guns.

Me

Dude! Need your help. Got a few minutes to come down the hall?

Oliver

For you, boo, I have several minutes. Be right there, man!

I haven’t even had the time to finish reading Oliver’s response when I hear my bedroom door swing open. “Gerard?”

“In here!” A blue polo shirt falls from a hanger and onto my face.

“The closet? Something you want to tell me, G?”

The irony isn’t lost on me—hiding in a literal closet while grappling with metaphorical ones. I want to tell Oliver what’s going on inside my head, but I haven’t fully figured it out myself yet.

“Just trying to figure out what to wear.” I step out of the closet with a heap of clothes in my arms. Oliver leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking.

“Date night?”

“It’s not a date,” I say, maybe too quickly. “It’s pumpkin carving day.”