Things with Elian stayed on much the same level over the next two weeks. Elian continued his daily trips to the pharmacy, no longer feeling the need to make up excuses to be there. He usually stuck around for at least an hour to help mitigate my boredom. He even let me paint his nails once, but it disappeared by the next day.
We had dinner together almost every night. Sometimes we'd go to a restaurant, sometimes we'd get take out. Either way, we'd end up at his house on his couch making out for a while. Then I'd go home, and we'd do it all again the next day.
Things were going so well. I'd never been happier. But happiness was just a fleeting emotion. More importantly, I'd never felt so content in my life. With Elian, I no longer fantasized about running off to get a life. I had actually developed one right at home.
When Elian invited me over for a movie night, I suspected that was code for "Come over and let's make out." Although the code was unnecessary. He could've said those exact words, and I would've been there in a heartbeat.
I stopped in my tracks when I walked into the living room to see a mountain of junk food on his coffee table.
"You actually meant a movie night?" I asked, kicking off my shoes at the door.
"Yeah. What did you think I meant?"
"I figured we'd just turn something on as background noise and kiss."
He slipped his arms around my waist, rubbing his hands up my back, and gave me a quick peck on the lips. "We can do that, too."
"What are we watching?" I followed him to the couch.
"I figured we could take turns picking." He sat down and grabbed the remote. "I'll show you some of my favorites, and you can show me yours."
Sometimes, everything he said sounded sexual. I didn't know if it was because sex was always on my mind around him, or if he did that on purpose to make me think these things.
"I thought you didn't like sweets." I gestured to the sugary smorgasbord he'd laid out.
"I don't like them for breakfast. I love them as movie snacks." He popped a handful of Skittles in his mouth to prove it.
"What are we starting with?" I removed my phone and keys from my pockets and laid them on the table, stretching out beside him.
"An underrated classic that is one of my favorites of all time."
When he pulled it up on screen, I knew I'd never seen it. I'd never even heard of it. "What the hell is Stick It?" The cover art of an angsty teenage girl gave me no clues.
"It's about gymnastics," he said. I never would have guessed that. "It's funny and very cute. I've seen it like a hundred times."
"Is it that good?" I asked.
"I think so, but I'm probably biased. I did gymnastics until I was thirteen. Me and my friends from the gym watched this movie practically every weekend on the bus to our meets."
That intrigued me. I had to know more. "Did you do all that flippy stuff?"
"I did," he said, with a hint of smile. "I loved it. I was pretty damn good, too. Even won some medals. My best event was the parallel bars."
"Why'd you quit? Did you get hurt?"
His face shifted, going somber. "A boy at my school found out when he started dating a girl at my gym. He started calling me gay in front of everyone at school. And he told all his friends who also made fun of me. I was kinda small for my age, so they pushed me around a lot, and somebody wrote 'fag' on my locker. So, I quit." He took a deep breath. "I wasn't ready to accept that I was gay, and I couldn't handle anyone knowing. Not yet. It broke my queer little heart." He added a halfhearted laugh to play it off as a joke.
I brushed my fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry that happened to you."
He shrugged and released a heavy sigh. "Kids can be assholes. It's not breaking news."
"That doesn't make it okay."
He shook his head. "Whatever. It was a long time ago. I'm over it."
He didn't seem fully over it, but did anyone ever really get over childhood trauma? I certainly hadn't dealt with my dad, basically pretending I didn't exist for the last twenty years.
"Let's watch this awesome movie then," I said, trying to lighten the mood. I shifted my weight to get comfortable. When he hooked his arm around me, I leaned into him, resting my head in the crook of his shoulder.
The movie drew me in immediately. I expected it to be one of those things where nostalgia goggles clouded his judgement, making him remember this movie more fondly than someone seeing it for the first time. But I genuinely enjoyed it. I cheered on their victories and lamented their failures. I even shouted, "That's such bullshit," when a character lost points over an asinine rule.
At that point, Elian pulled me closer and kissed the side of my head, laughing softly to himself.
For my turn, I chose Ferris Bueller's Day Off. "This is one of my mom's favorites," I told him. "I had a huge crush on Matthew Broderick in this the first time I watched it when I was eleven. I had no idea it came out in the eighties. And it devastated me to learn that he was old."
"Aw." Elian kissed my cheek.
He'd already seen the movie, but he put it on, anyway. We barely made it through the opening credits before we started kissing.
By the time it got to the big chase scene at the end, my heart was racing, but not from the action on screen.
My head spun as he moved to kiss my neck, adding to the chaos going on throughout my body. My hands wandered across the planes of his back, feeling every little shift of his muscles each time he moved. We had both removed our shirts by this point, and I loved the feel of his warm skin against mine.
His hand moved from my face to grip a handful of my hair at the back of my head as he returned his lips to mine. Heat rose from my chest, engulfing my face. He pressed against me, slowly grinding his hips, creating a lot of friction.
My breathing quickened. I moaned into his mouth. I'd never felt something so satisfying. He grasped at my chest. His tongue slid past my lips. My fingers dug into his skin, gripping him tighter, accompanied by some grunting on my part. That spurred him into more vigorous movements, intensifying the already overwhelming sensations.
That's when it happened. The most humiliating thing a guy could experience in this situation. I gasped and jerked my head back, surprised by the sudden warmth in my jeans.
Elian stared at me, his face alarmed. "Are you okay? Did I bite your lip too hard?"
I shook my head. "I justâ"
How was I supposed to tell him this? Thankfully, an excuse struck my mind. "I have to sneeze." I raised my hand to pinch my nose, feigning a wheezing sound that I hoped was convincing. "I need the bathroom."
Elian rolled off of me to let me up. I grabbed my shirt off the floor as I got up, which I hoped he didn't think was too weird.
I was very grateful that my jeans showed no evidence of what happened. At least, not yet.
I hurried to the bathroom and did my best to clean up. I thought about taking off my boxers, but I had nowhere to put them if I did. I briefly considered throwing them away. But the small wastebasket under the pedestal sink was empty except for a single cotton swab and some floss.
To maintain my cover story, I faked a few sneezes and blew my nose for good measure, though that just made my nose feel stuffy.
With a sigh, I crafted an excuse so I could leave straightaway.
After washing my hands, I left the bathroom. I put on my shirt and pulled the hem down as far as it would stretch.
He glanced up when I returned. "You better now?"
I nodded. "I'm fine, but I gotta go. My mom just messaged. She needs help with something."
Elian tilted his head, giving me a strange look. "Really?"
"Yeah."
Elian leaned over and picked up something off the coffee table. My phone. "Want to try that again?"
I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and released the breath. "I'm sorry. That was a lie."
"No shit." Elian narrowed his eyes. "What's going on, Steven?"
I stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. "Before-when you were rubbing on me-um, a thing happened."
"Oh!" He immediately understood.
I threw my hands over my face and groaned. "I'm so embarrassed."
"It's okay. It happens." He walked over and laid his hands on my shoulders, gently massaging my tense muscles. "Especially when this is all new."
I frowned, my brows knitting together. "It's not okay."
His hands slid up my neck to hold my face.
Before he could speak, I shook my head and blurted, "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. I got overeager."
I nodded, my breath stuttering. "Me, too. Obviously."
Elian laughed as he leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the lips. "You can take a shower if you want. I can find you something else to wear."
"I think I just want to go home and wallow."
Elian pouted. "Please don't go. We haven't even gotten through two whole movies. We were supposed to have fun and stuff our faces with junk food until we want to puke."
"I don't know."
"Come on. I can throw your clothes in the washer. That'll give you time for at least two more movies."
My face must've shown my lack of enthusiasm for his plan because he added, "Would it help if I told you an embarrassing story about me?"
I gave a small shrug. "It might."
"If I tell this story, you have to promise you'll stay."
I bit my lip, considering if I wanted to commit to that. But the opportunity to put us on slightly more even ground was too good to pass up, so I nodded. "Fine. But it better be humiliating."
He laughed. "Do you want to hear it now, or after you shower?"
I thought about it for a moment, ultimately deciding I'd like to be clean when I reveled in his embarrassment. "After."
"You go ahead and jump in. I'll leave some clothes at the door."
"Thanks."
As I walked to the bathroom, he trailed along beside me. "There's towels and washcloths on the shelf. You'll see them."
He stopped me at the door and put a hand on my chin, pulling me in to kiss my cheek.