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“I bet they do,” Omar said, growing loud again, “because I am going to freak! People must lose it, right? When they find out? Oh man… Can you get my result for me? I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

Why not? The test was anonymous, so they weren’t going to ask to see ID. Anthony was about to agree when a nurse opened the door to the waiting room.

“Omar Jafari?”

“Crap.” His friend sighed in resignation and stood, only pausing to turn dark watery eyes on him.

Anthony launched to his feet. He’d follow Omar into a minefield if that’s what he wanted. “I’m his emotional support,” he explained to the nurse.

“He’ll be my literal support if it’s bad news,” Omar grumbled. “You guys might have to carry me out of here.”

“Then let’s hope for good news,” the nurse said, sizing him up.

They were shown to the same exam room as before—or one that was nearly identical—and told that the doctor would be with them shortly.

Omar hopped up on the exam table and starting nibbling a thumbnail.

“Do you want a hug?” Anthony offered. “It might make you feel better.”

Omar rolled his eyes and continued gnawing.

“Or I could hold your hand,” Anthony continued. Please let him say yes! Even as a joke. Anthony made his hand crawl like a spider across the exam table. Omar finally cracked when it got near.

“Would you stop?” he snickered, bopping Anthony’s hand with his fist. “This is serious shit.”

“It is. You’re right.” Anthony remained appropriately somber until the same doctor they saw before entered the room. Then his heart started pounding in fear. Forget the twisted fantasies. He wanted—no, heneededhis friend to be okay.

“I’m sure you’re eager to get your results,” the doctor said. “Before we go over them, please try to remember how you feel right now. Hold on to it for the future, when you’re in the heat of the moment and protection doesn’t seem as important. Because right now, youknowit’s matter of life and death.”

“Oh shit,” Omar moaned. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”

Anthony did nothing to comfort his friend, agreeing with the lesson the doctor was trying to impart. There would be plenty of other girls who’d notice how handsome and charming Omar was. A long line of them. And if Anthony couldn’t have him, he at least wanted Omar to stay healthy.

“Let’s find out,” the doctor said, handing him an envelope. “You can keep the results to yourself, if you wish, but I’m here if you need help interpreting them.”

Omar tore open the envelope, his eyes darting all over thepage. Then he handed it to the doctor. “I can’t. Just tell me please.”

The doctor complied, not seeming surprised when informing him, “You tested negative for HIV.”

“Fuck!” Omar cried.

“That means you don’t have it,” Anthony explained.

Omar blinked. “I knew that. I’m really okay? Do I have anything else?”

“Nothing that we could find,” the doctor said, “but you should get tested again in a few months.”

She gave them brochures about safe sex, along with another lecture. And when she gestured to a bowl of free condoms and lube, Omar gleefully stuffed a pocket full. “I have a date tonight,” he told the doctor with a grin.

Anthony shook his head in embarrassment. But inside he was happy. Especially when they went outside to the parking lot.

“I’ll take that hug now,” Omar said, not waiting for permission before squeezing him like a python.

Anthony hugged him back, trying to memorize how their bodies felt when pressed together, because it was all he would get. The rest was for some lucky girl.

“I wish I could tell Silvia,” Omar said as they unlocked their bikes.

“Shouldn’t you?” Anthony said. “She’ll be glad to know she doesn’t have anything contagious.”