He opens the door to his house at 1:26 in the morning, and we try to sneak into the dark house without waking anyone up. His shoes are so quiet, he knows how to step quietly. But me, I’m too loud. I don’t know how to tip toe in these shoes, as hard as I try. Dear god, please let me be quieter. I don’t want to **** this up.

He puts the melted ice cream in the fridge with the other 4 cartons while I look at his fridge. There are only a few magnets but it is mostly blank. There are no pictures of him or his sister, and I wonder who he is.

He walks me to the door and kisses me for as long as I want, and then he hugs me tight. This is the first boy to hold me harder than I hold him. I want to hold him for as long as I can, but I know that he has to go to bed. This not about me. This is about him. Nothing is about me anymore and I feel relieved.

This is the boy who needs to be held tight, and I am the boy who desperately wants to hold him, except that I don’t know how tight.