If only I didn’t have to work tomorrow. Then we would have enough time to visit somewhere besides my school for our date.

This whole idea still sounds lame to me. A date at my school? But if that’s what Conor wants to do, I will. Because who cares where we go as long as we’re together?

Throughout dinner with my parents and younger brother Aj, I couldn’t stop envisioning how to make our time tomorrow memorable. But only until Conor and I retreated into the sanctuary of my room, and I realized that we were about to spend a whole night together while we were still officially only friends. Conor held his stomach, and as I closed the door, he let himself fall onto my couch.

“Your Mom must think I’m starving in LA.”

It was relaxing knowing we wouldn't be leaving this room today anymore. And even more comforting was the certainty that Conor would also be by my side the whole night.

“Wanna watch something?” Conor asked and pointed to my TV mounted on the wall to my left.

“Yeah, but I think I’d rather want to do one other thing first,” I replied and plotted to the white cupboard on the left, next to the windows, where his suitcase still waited to be unpacked.

Conor pushed himself up a bit, looking at what I was about to do. But I wanted it to be a surprise as long as possible. So I had to shush his curious eyes away.

“Close your eyes,” I ordered him.

“Why?”

“So I can prepare without you seeing.”

“Will you be naked in a second? Because if you strip, I would like to watch that.”

“Wha— No! Dude, just close your eyes.”

And he did but kept his head still pointed at me.

“And face the TV so I can be sure you’re not peeking.”

He grumbled because I looked right through his plan. Yet, with a sigh of reluctance, he turned around.

I put my hands on the upper drawer. “Eyes closed?”

“I feel like it’s midnight already.”

I pulled the drawer open and took out the present I had prepared for him. It was our picture—the one we took at the airport, cuddling. I had it printed and framed last week. I even wrapped it myself (as best as I could) in the same blue wrapping paper with small cats with party hats drawn on it that Conor used for my birthday presents. (I found it during a shopping spree with Mom and knew I wanted to use this one.)

Initially, I planned to give it to him at the end of our week, so he could have something to remember me when he’s back on the west coast. But with everything that happened today, I thought it could be a way of showing him how thankful I am for having him.

I slinked back to the couch, the present behind my back, to first ensure his eyes were definitely closed.

“I know you’re there,” Conor said. “I won’t look. I promise.”

“Hold your hands in front of you.”

He raised his palms upward in front of him. The couch wobbled a bit as I hopped on it.

The wrapping paper crackled as I placed the present in his hands.

“Now?”

“Yes.”

He opened his eyes and stared at the present, not really understanding what was going on.

“I want you to know that I’m so fucking happy that you’re here. That’s why I decided to give this to you now.”

“What is this?”

“It’s… nothing fancy.”

Conor alternately eyed me and the present while turning it around to find the seam. He shoved his fingers in between and ripped it open. The back of a picture frame came to light, and I stared at his face when he turned it around.

A loving smile formed as he looked at our happy, cuddling faces.

“Like I said… nothing fancy. Just something to remember me by back home.”

“Oh, Ash.”

He leaned his head onto my shoulder while keeping his eyes locked on the picture frame.

“Thank you so much. This is the perfect gift.” He turned his face toward me, and as our eyes met, I couldn’t help but lean in to kiss him.

“I know I'm not the most adept at showing how I truly feel. But... I need you to know that even when my anger gets the better of me, I’m always grateful to know you're on my side. And you’ve shown that so often in the past months. And about as often today.” We both had to laugh at that. “So, I would like you to know I plan to be there for you too. If you ever have trouble, I probably won’t know how to solve it. But at least I want to be there for you. I have enough muscles to fight everyone who wants to hurt you. But I also have ears and can at least listen to you whenever you need to rant or talk about stuff that troubles you. I won’t be a traitor again. I swear. Never again,” I blabbered. And I knew I should have stopped talking, but I couldn’t. “Even if you want to complain about me because I’m so worked up about little shit. If that helps, I’ll listen to it. And we know there is so much to rant about me. I'd be glad to join in. But of course, you can also rant about anything else. You know, I like listening to you and—“

Conor pressed his lips against mine once more, finally stopping me from talking. And I was grateful for that, too, because who knows if I would have talked myself into another corner I would regret later?

Should I just ask him now if he wants to be my boyfriend?

As our lips parted, our faces were close, and I could catch a glimpse of Conor’s green eyes. But as full of love as his eyes were, I also noticed something else.

“Ash, as a matter of fact, there is something I didn’t tell you until now, too,” Conor confessed, and his eyes got watery. "There are quite a lot of things, to be honest.”

“Okay? I… meant what I just said. Even when it’s stuff you dislike about me, tell me. I can only improve when I know I’m doing things wrong.”

He sat back up and put the picture frame on my grey wooden coffee table.

“No, it’s not about you.”

“Come here,” I opened my arms wide to invite him into a hug, and after thinking about it for a second, he let himself fall back into it.

“So, you remember when I talked to your dad earlier? About how I liked LA and stuff?”

“Yeah?”

”That’s… only partially true.”

He rested his eyes on my door as if thinking about running away any second.

“It just doesn’t feel like… home. I miss living here so much. ‘Cause I miss you guys. Like, a lot.”

“You know, that’s not just the case for you?” And I’m sure it’s not just me and him but also Will, Leo, and Milo.

"I told a guy at school. And… People always get these huge pitying eyes when you tell them you rather want to go back. Because even when they act like they care, I know what they truly think: well, you decided to leave. So it’s your fault. You can’t just move somewhere, find out you hate it, and want to return."

I lay my hand on his chest, hoping this would somehow make him feel better.

“This wasn’t your decision, though. It was your parents.”

“They hate it too.”

Even though he still rested his eyes on my door, I got the feeling he wasn't looking for a way to escape but rather to avoid finding out if my eyes were filled with pity too.

“I didn’t tell anyone. But… Mom changed. Yes, the job pays well, way better than her old one. But living there is so much more expensive. So it doesn’t make much of a difference. And I overheard her and Dad talking about how she got stalled for the promotion promised to her.”

I didn’t know how to reply. I wanted to say something, console him somehow. But… I’m not good at saying stuff.

“It’s just… I really wish I could just move back here.”

He slowly moved his gaze toward my face, and I tried to appear as understanding as possible. But how does one do that? What does an understanding face look like? Is smiling okay? Or could it still seem like I’m pitying? As soon as our eyes met, Conor chuckled.

“What is going on in your face?”

I turned toward the ceiling. Okay, I have to work on my understanding face.

“I tried to… not to give the impression that I was pitying you?”

“Oh boy,” his chuckle turned into a full-grown laugh. “That was so sweet.”

“Leave me be. I try to be as helpful as you’re for me!”

“Thanks. Being able to tell you already made it better.”

He raised his hand and caressed my chin.

“You know, if you are sick of LA, you can just stay with me. The room is more than spacious enough for us two."

“I doubt that the chances are high for that ever happening. There are still our parents who probably have a saying about that.”

“Who cares? Then we’ll just get our own apartment.”

“That would be awesome.”

“Yeah.”

“So now that you know… how about we do something relaxing?” Conor asked.

“…and finally, watch that second Colossus movie?”

—

The full moon painted the trees in front of my windows a soft dark blue. I grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.

“That one was even better than the first,” I said, turning toward Conor. His head was bowed to his chest, his eyes were closed, and he was breathing lightly.

He must be exhausted from the flight. Interesting. I thought he would have trouble getting asleep, thanks to the jet lag.

I quietly got up and walked over to my bed. We still had to prepare the second bed for Conor. I grabbed his suitcase, moved it to the side, and then pulled on the second mattress hidden underneath my bed. This was the first time I actually got to use it since we moved in because even though my father built this room so I could have friends over all the time, I rarely had. My teammates came over a couple of times to watch a game. But I didn’t grow close enough to anyone else to have them stay over.

And I was quite happy about that because getting this thing set up was more challenging than I expected. A sling was built into the side of my bed, and I pulled it. The other bed moved for about five inches and then got stuck. I rattled the wooden side, but it didn’t move an inch.

“What are you doing?” Conor asked, half asleep, and I turned to him.

“Sorry, I tried to stay as quiet as possible,” I replied, looking back at the inches of a white mattress that had already been revealed. “I wanted to set up your bed.” I pulled on the handle again, this time leaning my whole weight against it.

But nothing.

Maybe I should have tested if this worked at least once after we moved in.

Conor stood up and plotted toward me. The sound of his feet shuffling over the beige carpet relaxed me as if it was one of those ASMR podcasts.

“Well,” he said, still sleepy, "I can just sleep here.”

He lay down on the top bed and focused his only half-opened eyes on me.

“You can do that, but I will still have to get that out so we have enough room.”

“I think this one,” he patted the mattress, “is roomy enough for the both of us.”

He brushed a strain of hair out of my forehead, and I was mesmerized by how he had to fight to keep his eyes open. He grabbed my hand to pull me closer while scooting toward the wall. My arm, now stretched out over the mattress, I softly asked, “Are you sure?” Because being in one bed with him, just like in the old days, was something I’ve been dreaming of for quite a while now.

His eyes fell shut as he nodded. With his last strength, he gently pulled more on my hand to make me climb into the bed with him. I pushed my body next to him, careful not to make the bed shake too much to not disturb him from drifting off. With our faces now in front of each other, I immediately realized we weren’t twelve anymore.

Did we both fit in this twin-size bed? Yes. Was the space now kind of limited? Most definitely. But was I secretly happy about that? Heck yeah.

“Just like I pictured it,” Conor whispered, throwing my duvet over our bodies.

And the fact that he had just revealed that he had also been thinking about this made my heart jump in excitement. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get any sleep tonight, with him being distracted by how comforting Conor smelled. But honestly… does it matter?

I didn’t want to turn to my nightstand to switch off the light. Not because I was afraid to move out of this dream for a second. But because I couldn’t stop looking at his face.

Conor gets more beautiful with every minute I spend with him. I’m sure if I only look at him long enough, he will become the most beautiful person in the world.

He blinked his left eye open.

“Do you want to stare at me all night?”

“Not if I’m allowed to take a picture.”

“This is a free country."

He slightly stuck out his tongue while his eyes fell shut again.

I couldn’t, could I?

I turned to my nightstand, considered grabbing my phone, but went for the light instead. As I pushed the switch, the nightlight I had brought in from the floor turned on.

Before I could turn back to Conor, he threw his arm over me and pulled me close to him. He pressed his chest into my back and threw one leg over mine.

“Gotcha,” he whispered. He couldn’t see my big fat smile in the dark. But he didn’t need to. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

“Thank you for the nightlight,” he whispered and squished himself closer to me. His warm breath on my neck gave me goosebumps. I slowly stroked my thumb across his hand, and he answered with a soft squeeze.

I felt safe and comforted as I never had before. Like when you watch a movie you love for the twentieth time and still can’t get enough of it. And it only made me want to follow through with my plan for tomorrow even more. Asking him to be my boyfriend and then apologizing to everyone I’ve wronged, no matter how scary that sounds. Because this here—sleeping in one bed, his arms wrapped around my chest— this is what I want to have every day.