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“I’d like to teach,” she says. “Probably high-school math.”

“I think you’d be a great teacher,” I say.

Bobby’s forehead scrunches. “How come I never knew that’s what you wanted?” he asks.

“Probably the same way I didn’t know you were gay,” she says. “We weren’t as close as we thought we were. But we’re adults now and we can have whatever relationship we want.”

I’m sitting behind her so I can’t see her face, but I think she’s smiling at Bobby because he’s smiling back.

“Okay, that’s enough excitement for today,” Trey says as he moves to the kitchen area. “What’s there to eat?”

****

All afternoon, we munch on frozen pizza, frozen burritos, and frozen chicken nuggets, and we drink beer, and margaritas, and more beer.

By the time night falls, we are all pretty wasted.

Bobby and Trey are too drunk to drive, so they just decide to sleep over in Liz’s guest room, where Bobby already keeps a lot of his stuff.

They offer to help clean up but we’re all in pretty bad shape, so we decide we’ll just put the leftovers in the fridge and turn in.

“Shit,” I say. “I should’ve brought a toothbrush when I went back for a change of clothes.”

“No worries, I got you,” she says and produces a brand new toothbrush. She’s a little wobbly on her feet, pink-cheeked and adorable, and I want to eat her up.

“You know, it’s funny, I’ve never had a guy over at my place before,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“Never lived alone. Lived with parents, then with Jake. Never on my own. Never had a proper sleepover at my own place.”

I smile. “I am honored to be the first.”

She leans toward me and puts her palms on my chest. “You’re very nice to snuggle with,” she says. “Are we gonna fuck now?”

“We’re both pretty wasted...”

“Do you not wanna?”

“I do wanna. Just not sure, you know. Consent and all.”

She wraps her arms around my neck. “I enthusiastically consent,” she says. “But I want it slow and soft. The slowest. The softest. You know?”

I cup her cheek. “I know. We can fuck the slowest and softest that anyone’s ever fucked in the history of fucking.”

She grins and looks so happy, my chest feels like it will burst. “I’m so glad your ex-brother-in-law stood you up that day,” she says. “You’re my favorite guy.”

To that I say nothing, just kiss her all over—face, neck, shoulders, breasts—and take off her clothing, piece by piece, as her breaths deepen.

When we’re in bed, I fuck her as I promised, slow and soft and long, very long, it’s more cuddling than sex as I rock into and out of her shallowly, gently, and we’re tender and quiet, kissing and breathing into each other’s mouths, and it feels like it could go on forever, this gentle rocking, this near fucking, and there’s a term that describes what we’re doing, I know what it is, but it’s a frightening term, one I’ve only ever used with Kim years ago, and the fact that this feels so much like that, that it feels exactly like it, connected, immersed, intimate, makes my chest constrict and the back of my neck get all sweaty, and I try to push it aside, this bloodcurdling fear that I’ll be exposed again, vulnerable again, discarded again, but the thoughts still invade my mind, my drunken, lost, overwhelmed mind, already in way too deep with this woman, this new-to-me woman whom I probably shouldn’t trust yet, not with my heart, not with how she can hurt me, and I want to dispel these thoughts, to shake them off, so I start thrusting a little faster, a little harder, and Liz’s moans deepen, thighs moving up on my hips, nails digging into my flesh.

“This working for you?” I ask quietly, nose buried in her neck, her hair sticking to her face, to my face, sweat slicking our bodies. “Or do you want it back to slow and gentle?”

“This is perfect,” she says, rubbing the back of my neck. “So perfect.”

****

The morning after is a blur of chaos and high emotion.