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Ian is nervous as he sits in the back seat of Steven’s car. Anthony is sat beside him, but his best friend isn’t the source of his nerves. It’s the brown paper bag tucked on the floorboard by Anthony’s feet that has Ian feeling nervous. Steven had a cousin come down to stay with his family for a few weeks before he would return to the nearby university for the upcoming semester. Steven’s cousin had apparently been willing and able to score some alcohol for Steven, which Steven proudly made plans for, plans that involved Ian, Anthony, and another guy in their friend group from school named Drew.
The plan didn’t make much sense to Ian. Steven convinced Anthony, Ian, and Drew to cram into Steven’s car and let him drive them up to the bluffs that were nestled next to the American River. Steven and Drew chose the bluffs because it was remote and because they were a group of sixteen-year-olds who had a huge forty-ounce stashed in the car with them.
“There, park under those trees,” Drew says from the front passenger seat. He points to an area in the dirt packed circular parking lot. The little lot serves as the starting point for the hike up along the river, the only way to get to the bluffs. There isn’t much here in the lot besides a few huge rocks plunked along the edges of the circle, tucked into the grass, and a porta potty off in the distance.
“Good idea,” Steven says, as he pulls his car into a spot under the black mass of shadows from the trees above them.
“Couldn’t we just drink it in here?” Ian asks, peeking through the back windows at the cloak of darkness around them. It isn’t that late at night, maybe nine-thirty, but darkness has already fallen over Sacramento and especially up here by the bluffs where there’s no light except the moon high and bright overhead, but even the moon, from here is choked off by the massive trees that encircle the parking lot.
Steven makes a noise from the driver’s seat, “Pfft, and have us get caught when someone else pulls in here? I don’t think so.”
“Who do you think is going to come up here to hike at almost ten at night?” Ian asks, rolling his eyes.
Steven shrugs, “I don’t know. My cousin told me that people come up here to fuck all the time.”
“Whoa, really?” Drew asks, turning around to peer through the back windows as if suddenly there will be cars with people having sex parked nearby.
“Let’s just hike up to the bluffs. It will be cooler,” Anthony says, and he nudges Ian in the side with his elbow, like he wants Ian to agree with him.
Ian sighs. It’s three against one here and he is outnumbered.
“Okay. Whatever,” Ian says, as Drew and Steven are already opening their car doors.
Anthony has his own hand on the handle of the door, but he looks at Ian before he opens it.
“Are you okay?” Anthony asks, concern flickering across his face.
Ian knows Anthony is really excited about this. The two of them had been at Anthony’s house for a sleepover before Steven had called Anthony. When Anthony had found out the plan, he had this big stupid grin on his face. The kind of big stupid grin that meant that Ian was going to get wrapped up in whatever it was that Anthony wanted to do. Ian didn’t want to ruin this for him.
He nods, “I’m fine.” He is fine, he just thinks this is a stupid fucking idea, and if they do happen to get caught, it’ll be an even worse idea, and Ian will be grounded for the rest of his junior year of high school.
Anthony seems to accept this, and he gives Ian a nod. Then he’s got that dumb smile on his face, “Is wittle Ian afraid of the dark?” Anthony asks in an obnoxious baby voice.
Ian groans and opens the car door, stepping out into the night. Anthony giggles and does the same, except he leans down on his way out and picks up the brown bagged bottle. Anthony cradles it in his arms safely like a baby as he and Ian walk up to meet Steven and Drew.
“Let me see that,” Steven says, taking the forty-ounce baby away from Anthony. He hands something off to Drew but, in the darkness, Ian can’t make out what it is.
The bright beam of a flashlight shines in front of them. Drew’s holding the light and the buttery yellow circle of light cuts through the darkness, illuminating the parking lot, and showing them the clear grassy incline that leads up to the bluffs. It’s only a ten-minute hike at most and shouldn’t be too difficult even in the darkness.
Steven and Drew take the front while Ian and Anthony walk side-by-side in the back. The scenery around them is quiet except for the rush of the river as they get closer to the body of water. Ian can feel the cool air from the river and the adjacent thicket of woods. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
“Did you guys know there are bears out here?” Drew says, shining his light into the rows of greenery and trees to their right. The dirt path under them leads up to the bluffs and the left-hand side is a steep drop off that if you fell, would have you crashing straight into the ice-cold water of the river unless you hit the jagged face of the bluffs first.
“Shut the hell up,” Steven says, “there’s no damn bears out here.”
“Yes, there is! My brother’s best friend’s sister saw one here once when she came here to smoke weed with her friends.”
Whether it’s true or not Ian feels those nerves prickle inside of him, like his stomach is full of spiny needles all prodding him at once. Next to Ian Anthony makes a noise.
“Steven’s right, it’s like…too close to people for bears to hang here. They get scared or whatever.” And Anthony is trying to sound like he knows what he is talking about, but Ian has been friends with him long enough to pick up the barest hint of uncertainty in his voice.
Ian focuses and tries to use whatever telepathic connection he and Anthony might share as best friends to let him know that if he gets eaten by a bear because Anthony wanted to drink some shitty ass alcohol, he’s going to fucking haunt Anthony forever, or kick his ass in the afterlife.
It doesn’t take long to reach the top of the bluffs. It’s a mix of rocky terrain and greenery, but it’s sheltered by a bunch of thick green shrubbery. The edge of the bluffs is high and craggy with rocks down the side. Ian thinks suddenly it is really fucking dumb to be up here with alcohol. Someone drinks too much and slips off the edge. Goner for sure.
Steven stands in the middle of the bluffs and nods like he’s satisfied. “Here should be fine.” He folds himself down to sit cross legged on the ground, Drew doing the same. Anthony glances at Ian before he copies the movement. Ian’s nerves spike, but he follows along, sitting down on the soft grass.
From here, without the thick treetops blocking it, the moon shines over them huge and bright. Ian looks over his shoulder to the wide expanse of the American River. The moon reflects huge and white, glowing in the center of the lake.
Ian is drawn from his thoughts by the crinkle of a paper bag. He looks and Steven is shedding the bag from the giant glass bottle of alcohol. Steven throws the bag aside and cracks off the forty-ounce twist top.
“Oh, right. We need our chaser before we drink this,” Steven says. He makes a grabby hand motion at Drew. The other boy hands over a huge Styrofoam Jamba Juice cup.
“What is that?” Anthony asks hesitantly.
“Our chaser. You gotta have one when you’re drinking. It’s orange Jamba Juice.”
“Gross,” Ian says, wrinkling his nose.
Steven makes a face at Ian. He hefts up the alcohol and takes a long swig. Ian watches as Steven pulls back, making a face.
“Ugh, tastes like shit,” he says, sticking out his tongue. He lifts the Styrofoam cup and takes a sip of the smoothie inside. Steven hums and then starts pouring the alcohol into the Jamba Juice cup.
“Dude! What are you doing?” Drew asks, “don’t mix it!”
“Why not? It’ll taste better.”
The whole forty doesn’t fit in the Jamba Juice cup, but a little over half does mix in. Steven uses the plastic straw still in the cup and stirs it around. He takes a sip again and nods.
“Tastes better than before, I think.”
Then Steven passes the cup off to Drew who is sitting on his left. Drew takes a sip, before he makes the same kind of face as Steven.
“It’s okay,” Drew says with a shrug.
Then it is Anthony’s turn. Drew passes the cup to him and Ian watches skeptically as his best friend takes it. He watches Anthony sniff the liquid in the cup before he takes a few gulps. Ian can tell right away that Anthony doesn’t like it. He sees in the moonlight as Anthony’s nose scrunches. He pulls the cup away after a moment and makes a face.
“That’s rough,” Anthony says, wiping at his mouth. He passes the cup to Ian.
Ian takes it, sniffs and the smell turns his stomach. He’s got three sets of eyes on him and even on the way to the bluffs in Steven’s car Ian knew he wasn’t going to drink tonight. He doesn’t want to do this, not here and not now, even if Anthony does.
“C’mon, Hecox, don’t be a pussy,” Steven says, rolling his eyes.
“I’m not a pussy!” Ian says defensively.
Anthony’s looking at him with eyes that seem to be pleading with him to just drink the fucking drink.
“Look,” Ian says, “someone is going to have to drive us back home, right? If we all drink, then none of us can drive.”
“Shit,” Steven says, blinking. Then he laughs, “Oh, man. I must be drunk already. I didn’t even think of that. My mom would kill me too if I didn’t come home with the car.”
“Good thinking, Ian,” Drew says.
Ian smiles and passes the cup off to Drew who takes another huge gulp. From the corner of his eye Ian catches what looks like disappointment cross Anthony’s face. By the time Ian looks at him, Anthony is already watching Steven take his next drink.
It goes on like that. The four of them on the ground, the cool air around them, Ian watching, acting as a pseudo babysitter as the other three boys finish the cup of alcohol and fruit smoothie. When the juice is half-way gone Steven pours the rest of the forty into the cup and they finish it off in no time.
“Fuck,” Drew says, laying on his back in the grass and giggling, “I’m so drunk, dude.”
“Me too,” Steven says, hiccupping.
Ian debates whether they really are or not, but it’s the first time any of them have drank alcohol and Ian didn’t so maybe they really are wasted? Ian looks at Anthony as he laughs, his hands tucked behind his head as he stares at the night sky.
“Yeah, I am too,” Anthony says, his voice strange, a way that Ian has never heard it before. Anthony laughs to himself, at nothing, the sound ringing clear in the quiet of the night.
Ian sighs, dips his hand into his jeans pocket to check his phone. It’s almost eleven at night.
“We should probably head back down to the car,” Ian suggests.
“Being a buzz kill, Hecox,” Steven mutters.
Anthony sits up and looks at Ian, “Yeah, man,” Anthony says, “be cool.”
Ian feels hurt briefly, but he rolls his eyes, shakes off Anthony’s words. Anthony’s drunk or whatever, and he’s picked up on Steven’s asshole sense of humor.
“It’s almost eleven,” Ian says, “your mom is going to wonder where the hell we are.”
Anthony groans, the kind of groan that tells Ian that Anthony knows he’s right, he just doesn’t want to admit it.
“We’ll leave soon,” Steven says with a shrug, “make it home before midnight.”
Ian wants to leave now. This isn’t quite the night he had envisioned. He had wanted to play video games with Anthony, laugh and hang out, and stay up late in Anthony’s bedroom, talking, listening to music, all their favorite shit, but now he’s out on the bluffs and Anthony is drunk and taking the piss out of Ian with Steven.
Drew starts talking about a girl from their school, someone he has a crush on. Ian doesn’t know her, but he listens as Drew describes every R-Rated thought in his spank bank fantasies that revolve around her.
Ian tries to ease up, to not be a party pooper, he even laughs at some of the dumb shit that Drew says. Anthony is next to him, giggling so hard at times that he leans over, gasping for air and pressing his face against Ian’s shoulder, and Ian swears even through his jacket he can feel Anthony’s warmth.
As Drew goes on with his story Steven makes a weird noise, something like a hiccup and a burp, and Ian looks at him with just enough time to see his face going pale.
“Steven?” Ian asks, but he’s ignored.
Steven plants one hand in the grass and propels himself up to his feet. He races over to the thick line of bushes surrounding the bluffs and then he’s bent over, barfing into the shrubbery.
“Sick,” Anthony says, wrinkling his nose again.
Ian puts his hands on his thighs. “Okay, it’s definitely time to go. We’re not going to sit here while you three barf your guts out.”
Ian gets himself to his feet. He holds out a hand for Anthony to take, and he’s expecting to be ignored, but Anthony looks at him, the moonlight reflecting in his warm brown eyes, and he takes Ian’s hand. Anthony’s fingers are cold as Ian grips him and tugs him to his feet. They are still holding hands for a second, just one moment, after Anthony is on his feet, but Ian lets go as he sees Drew begin to turn to face them.
“I feel fine. What about you, Padilla?” Drew asks.
Anthony shrugs, “I don’t feel like I’m going to barf. I just feel like…drunk, I guess?” He giggles again, even as Steven keeps retching into the bushes.
Finally, after what feels like forever Steven is done puking up the alcohol. He stands and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before wiping his hand on his jeans.
“Keys, please,” Ian says, outstretching his hand as he approaches Steven.
Steven digs around in his jeans pocket before he takes out his keys and unceremoniously drops them in Ian’s open palm.
“Don’t crash my car, Hecox.”
“I’m not the one drunk, dude.”
The four of them turn from the peak of the bluffs and start the small trek back down to the parking lot. Ian has the flashlight now because Drew’s hand was shaking too much to carry it. The three ‘drunk’ boys are a lot quieter coming down the trail than they had been going up. Every little noise is loud in Ian’s ears, his mind thinking of the variety of wild animals that could be watching them, and Ian worries how he would get three drunk assholes down the slope without being eaten by a bear.
Eventually, they reach Steven’s car, Steven takes the passenger seat and Drew and Anthony squeeze into the back. Ian takes the Styrofoam cup and the empty alcohol bottle and tosses them in the plastic garbage can set near the entrance and exit of the parking lot, before he walks to the car and takes his spot in the driver’s seat.
“Okay,” Ian says, glancing at Anthony and Drew in the backseat, “no puking while we’re driving, got it?”
Ian sees them nod, and he laughs a little. God, he’s glad he didn’t drink that shit tonight. His eyes linger a second or two longer on Anthony, how he looks out the window, his face covered in shadow, but somehow Ian can still make out the outline of his nose and jaw, like he knows them from memory.
They drop Drew off first. Next is Steven and Ian has to leave him the car keys and the car parked safely in the driveway. Because they had to leave the car at Steven’s, that means that Ian and Anthony are stuck with a five-minute walk back to Anthony’s house.
The streets in their neighborhood in Sacramento are quiet, the moon still hung huge above their heads, making the concrete appear to glow as they are bathed in moonlight. Anthony is still quiet as he and Ian make the walk back to his house.
“You feeling okay?” Ian asks, not wanting to have to worry about Anthony needing to stop to puke.
Anthony nods, and in the moonlight, Ian sees a gleam of teeth as Anthony smiles.
“I’m fine, still kinda drunk,” he says quietly, though he doesn’t sound like he did earlier. Anthony sounds more normal now.
“Really?” Ian asks, “it didn’t seem like you guys drank that much.”
“Yeah, I’m sure! I feel all weird,” Anthony waves his arms around as if it explains the weird feeling he’s having.
Ian snorts, “Okay, I’m starting to believe that you are drunk.”
“Why didn’t you want to drink?” Anthony asks, his voice quieter than before, the rubber soled bottoms of their sneakers loud against the sidewalk as they round the corner of Steven’s street to head down the main street that will take them back to Anthony’s house.
“I told you,” Ian says, “someone had to drive.”
Anthony shakes his head, his long hair slipping into his eyes, obscuring them from Ian.
“No, I could tell you were making that shit up, dude,” Anthony says, like he knows, because he does. The curse of having the same best friend for four years now. They could read each other like books, see through each other like the clearest of glass. It was nearly impossible for one to keep a secret from the other. All too often Anthony felt like an extension of Ian himself.
Ian debates just not answering, but he can feel the weight of Anthony looking at him.
“I just didn’t want to,” Ian says, shrugging, “I guess I was kind of scared how I would feel, like maybe I would be out of control, or different, or barf my guts up like Steven.”
Anthony pushes the hair out of his eyes, “We’re teenagers, dude. Underage drinking is like, a rite of passage.”
Ian hums, “I would have been happier just hanging out with you at your house and kicking your ass at Halo or whatever.”
Anthony scoffs, “That’s kid shit,” he says, “we’re not kids. We’re sixteen. We should be like, going to parties, and drinking in the woods, and fuck, dude, you haven’t even kissed someone yet.”
Ian can feel his face get hot, “Okay, geeze! I get it. I’m fucking lame.”
Anthony chuckles, “No, no, it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed,” Anthony tells him. They stop for a moment at a corner, Anthony’s hand catching Ian’s sleeve, hanging loosely on to the fabric. “I just, want us to do that shit together, you know? Like we have our first drinks together, go to our first like teenaged party together, make out at that party…”
“Together?” Ian teases with a laugh.
Anthony laughs, loud in the quiet of the night, “No! No, I mean, make out with other people, but I gotta get you kissed before we can move on to making out with hotties at parties.”
“Fuck off,” Ian says, though he’s laughing. Anthony can always make him laugh.
They carry on walking and a comfortable silence falls over them. Ian feels a little weird. Anthony wants to do all this shit that is normal for teenagers, but what about all the shit they like to do that’s normal for them? Sleeping at each other’s houses, playing video games, making up dumbass stories and jokes to make each other laugh. The stuff that seems like maybe Anthony is ready to let go of, but Ian isn’t. He’s not ready to be mature if it means giving up everything he likes.
Before long the two of them reach Anthony’s house. It’s just before midnight and the lamp in the front living room is on, glowing faintly in the front window of the house.
“You think your mom is up?” Ian asks, whispering as they reach Anthony’s front door.
Anthony glances at the window and shakes his head as he attempts to fish his house keys out of the pocket of his jeans.
“No way, she probably just left the light on for us. I told her we were going to hang out at the park a couple of blocks away.”
Ian feels nervous again. What if Anthony’s mom is awake? What if she takes one look at Anthony and knows he’s been drinking tonight? Ian feels his stomach squeeze, those sharp prickles pushing against his skin once again.
Anthony manages to unlock the door and he pushes it open, creeping inside quietly, Ian following behind him. Anthony carefully shuts the door. The house seems silent. Maybe they got away with it?
The two of them take off their shoes at the door and then tip toe to Anthony’s room, trying not to even breathe too loudly so they don’t wake up his mom or brothers. Inside the comfortable familiarity of Anthony’s room, Ian feels like he can breathe again. Anthony moves over to the bed and clicks on the lamp that sits on the nightstand next to his mattress. He then goes and sits in the chair at his desk and Ian sits on Anthony’s bed. It should be the other way around he thinks, but they’ve sought out their habitual seats, everything between them like a ritual that needs repeating.
Anthony is smiling at Ian from across the room.
“What?” Ian asks, he can’t hide his amused tone or the smile that spreads across his own face.
“We made it without getting caught,” Anthony muses, like he can barely believe it. Ian knows he certainly can’t believe they got away with it.
“I didn’t do anything besides stay out a little later than usual,” Ian says, with a laugh, “I’m stone cold sober, baby.”
Ian stretches, he lifts his legs onto Anthony’s bed and lies down so he’s on his back, head cushioned on Anthony’s pillows. The room smells like him (of course) and the scent is familiar, makes Ian feel like he’s home even when he’s not.
Anthony rolls his eyes. He stands up and then crosses the room in three big strides. Then he’s standing over Ian and his own bed, his hands on his hips and his eyes trailing over Ian’s form.
“What?” Ian asks, amused but raising an eyebrow.
“You’re not going to sleep on me, are you?” Anthony asks.
“Maybe,” Ian says, exaggerating a yawn, big and loud, and grinning at Anthony.
“You’re boring,” Anthony says, and before Ian can stop him, he goes for a leap over Ian and into the empty space of bed next to Ian. Shockingly, he makes it, squeezed in between Ian and his bedroom wall. This used to be easier when they were younger and smaller. Ian should probably pull the sleeping bag out of Anthony’s closet and set it up on the floor, but he’s too comfortable to move at the moment, despite the fact that Anthony is partially squishing him.
Ian elbows Anthony gently, “Move over.”
“It’s my bed! You move over!” Anthony retorts, apparently even more of a little shit when he’s had some alcohol in him.
The nudging of elbows turns into play slapping, which turns into a mini half-hearted wrestling match on top of Anthony’s bed, and somehow, before Ian knows it, Anthony’s got Ian’s wrists in his hands, pinning both of them on either side of Ian’s head against the mattress. Anthony’s body is on top of Ian’s. Anthony is a warm and solid weight against Ian and then Ian is trapped, and he looks up into his best friend’s deep brown eyes.
There is a moment, a heartbeat, where Ian can feel all the air leave the room. It’s quiet, and he can hear Anthony’s faint breathing, he can feel the warm rush of Anthony’s breath tickling his neck. They are best friends and sixteen-year-old boys. They are as close as can be, but right now Anthony feels like a stranger. They are like brothers, but Anthony’s leaning in slowly, inching his face closer to Ian’s.
Ian feels a line in the sand between them, something that has existed ever since the day they met. He feels the cool water that smells suspiciously like the American River lapping at that line, slowly erasing it with every wave under the huge and pale moonlight.
When Anthony’s lips touch Ian’s, the line is no more, washed away by the tide.
Ian doesn’t breathe. He lets Anthony’s mouth meet his. Somewhere, in the distant part of his mind there are sirens going off, some trigger in his head trying to remind him that this is a boy he’s kissing, and not just any boy, this is Anthony. A bigger, more insistent, louder part of Ian is just happy to be kissing someone.
His first kiss.
Their lips part only to come back together. Anthony’s mouth is a little rough, not like Ian thought it might be, not that he tries to spend a lot of time thinking about Anthony’s mouth. Ian doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’s lost, he feels like he’s back in that thicket of trees out on the bluff, wandering endlessly through the darkness and waiting for the bear to catch him in its jaws.
Anthony’s the experienced one between the two of them and he tilts his mouth, and then Ian feels the press of a tongue against the seam of his lips. Ian opens easily, no resistance for Anthony. Their kiss deepens and Anthony’s tongue is warm, wet, as it explores the edges of Ian’s mouth. Anthony tastes like artificial oranges and has a bitter tangy taste to him that must be from the alcohol.
Ian flexes his hands in Anthony’s grip. Anthony’s fingers are loose. Ian can pull away, Ian can push Anthony off him, Ian can stop this. But he doesn’t. He does pull one hand from Anthony’s grip, rising to touch Anthony’s face, his fingers open along Anthony’s jaw, Anthony’s long straightened hair brushing the tips of Ian’s fingers.
Ian makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, halfway between a hum and a groan. Anthony returns the sound, Ian’s own personal echo, and kisses him a little harder. The kiss feels like it goes on forever, like Ian has laid there for years, under Anthony, kissing his best friend.
Eventually, Ian needs to breathe and eventually their mouths fall away from each other. Anthony is still on top of him, over him, his mouth open, lips red, eyes heated in a way that Ian has never seen before now.
“Anthony…” Ian says, his voice barely a whisper, toned in wonderment, maybe awe, and fear.
It is like hearing his own name kickstarts something in Anthony’s head. He blinks, he looks down at Ian as if he is seeing him for the first time all night. Ian watches as Anthony’s tongue licks his lips and vaguely Ian wonders if Anthony can taste him there.
Anthony is quiet as he rolls on to his side, fitting into that tight space between the wall and Ian again, except he’s turned so he’s facing Ian, blinking at him with eyes that Ian can’t begin to decipher.
The reality of what they had just done begins to sink into Ian. They kissed. Ian’s first kiss was from Anthony. Was his best friend. Was a boy.
Only one of them was drunk tonight so what was Ian’s excuse? Why didn’t Ian stop it? Was Anthony as drunk as he claimed to be? Millions of questions run through his mind. Would Anthony remember this? Would Anthony hate him? Was this going to ruin their friendship? Ian is scared, a ball of fear wedged deep within the pit of his stomach.
Ian matches Anthony’s position, turning to his side to face Anthony.
Their faces are close again, but Ian can see fear on Anthony’s face, can practically see the same questions he has as they move through Anthony’s mind.
“I…” Anthony begins, his voice soft, so unlike Ian is used to. Ian is terrified of whatever it is that Anthony might say next. Anthony doesn’t sound drunk, “I don’t think I should drink anymore.”
Ian nods, bites his lip, tastes Anthony still lingering in his mouth.
“Probably not, maybe not until we’re twenty-one,” Ian breathes, trying to find the script, trying to reboot them back to what they were before they kissed, the role of best friends, and nothing more. Can they go back? Are the parts still there? Or was something re-written in the process? Changed so much that it isn’t recognizable anymore.
Anthony nods and then closes his eyes, “I’m drunk,” he says, but he sounds more sober than he has all night.
“Yeah,” Ian agrees, willing to accept Anthony’s words as truth than try to dig for another explanation.
It’s all a conversation within a conversation, subtitled in a language neither of them is fluent in.
Briefly, in the quiet of the night, in the stillness of Anthony’s bedroom, Anthony’s fingers lace with Ian’s.
Ian is suddenly nostalgic for being twelve, before he became a teenager, before alcohol was a rite of passage, before he kissed one of the most important people in his life, before he knew what Anthony’s lips felt like, and he never dreamed of feeling them again. When his best friend didn’t look like a stranger lying next to him, their knees touching, fingers linked, the line in the sand nowhere to be found.
They are adrift, directionless, and one of them has to bring the other home. Earlier it was Ian walking Anthony to his house in the moonlit streets of their hometown. Now, as Anthony releases their hands, tucks his own under his face. He looks into Ian’s eyes, and he guides them to their assigned places, anchors Ian home.
“You’re my best friend,” Anthony says, a million other things left unsaid, but Ian can parse them out.
Ian nods, desperate to keep that position.
“You’re my best friend too,” Ian whispers. A best friend that knows what it feels like to kiss the other in the quiet darkness of the night. A best friend who knows how to keep a secret. A best friend who wants to drink at the bluffs and kiss people (girls?) at parties.
“Forever?” Anthony asks, swallowing thickly, his voice quaking just a little, like he’s scared of the answer he’ll get.
Ian nods, “Forever.” In the same way he’ll forever remember his first kiss. The who, what, when, where, how, and why. He might change the details for others, but he’ll always remember this night, this bed, the feeling of his best friend’s mouth.
Anthony gives him a small smile, it’s not full, it’s shaky, but it’s there. He leans up and over Ian, his body a long line above the younger boy as Anthony reaches to turn off the lamp next to his bed. The room is dark, moonlight pouring in through the gaps in the shade, little silver slits of white stretching across the carpeted floor.
Anthony settles back down next to Ian. Their knees still touch. Ian feels electricity and fear in every single part of his body. How will he ever sleep tonight? How will he ever sleep again?
“Goodnight, Ian,” Anthony says, voice warm, fond, but there’s something else there too, confusion or fear.
“Goodnight, Anthony,” Ian says, trying to keep neutral, but he doesn’t know if he succeeds. Inside of him, Ian’s heart beats a mile-a-minute.
The room is quiet again. Ian is only sixteen but already he understands the feeling of a moment becoming a memory, something so essential to you that it feels like it is engraved into your whole being. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the feeling of Anthony’s mouth on his, of the buzz of their knees touching in a twin-sized bed, fingers wrapped around his wrist. It’s a part of him now, in the same way he feels that Anthony always will be.