no one joins in with. Instead, Tyrone nudges Omar and mutters, “Knew it,” as my mother smirks at me, as if proud to have unveiled our secret. She’s certainly taken a complete turn toward me over the past few weeks since she gave me back my bike. For a moment, it almost feels like it used to between us, back in the day when she had more faith in my choices and saw a bright future for me.
It’s an hour later before we’re finally freed from the crowded lobby—and people in general. I take Toby back to my house, which he insisted on, not wanting to face his stepbrother and stepdad. We sit by my pool under all the stars and riff back and forth about everything that could have gone wrong in tonight’s show. Toby is practically delirious now that opening night is past us and all the social obligations are over with. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so loose and relaxed before, laid back on that lounger next to mine. I take his hand. He turns his face and smiles my way as our clasped hands swing lazily between the loungers.
“I was really proud tonight,” he murmurs after a while, “to have shared that big ol’ stage with you.”
“I’m already looking forward to tomorrow’s performance.”
“Does that mean we have no excuse to kiss anymore after Sunday?” he asks teasingly. “After the show closes?”
I shoot him a look. “I don’t need any excuse—or show—to tell me whether or not I get to kiss that pretty face of yours.”
He leans over the short divide between our lounger chairs, and I meet him halfway, our lips coming together for a kiss. Even the distant crickets and the lazy night wind appear to still, as our breath becomes one and our hearts beat in seeming unison.
When our lips part, Toby’s next words spill out in a nervous rush. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I want to take the next step.”
My eyes flap open. He’s got my full attention now.
“The next step,” he repeats. “Have sex. With you. T-Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“I want it to be with you, Vann. My first experience. My first time going … all the way.”
What we did last weekend certainly skirted around the big act of actually making love. It’s a significant choice, and it’s not one I take lightly. So when I hear him say those words, it isn’t my deep hunger for him that responds. Nor is it the tightness in my pants, the racing of my heart, or the anticipation of our coming together.
It’s the fact that I know we’ll share this experience together, for the rest of our lives. It could define us. It could be the most meaningful thing I’ve ever shared with someone before. I know it. He knows it. And I don’t want to mess things up with Toby.
Still holding his hand, I ask, “You sure?”
“Yes,” he answers too quickly.
“Toby, I need you to be absolutely sure. I don’t want you to … feel like you’re doing it just to make me happy. Or because you feel obligated somehow. Or you think I’ll get bored if you don’t. It’s a very important decision to—”
He interrupts me with another kiss, then swings his legs off the lounger and faces me more directly. “I’m speaking from my heart. Not anything else. I’ve been waiting for someone like you to come into my life. And I want to share this with you. If …” His eyes flood with concern. “I mean, if you want to do it.”
“I do. But only if you’re ready. Completely ready.”
“These eyes don’t lie,” he states, squeezing my hand tighter.
I rise from my seat and pull him to his feet. Our lips connect, and this time, the urgency in his heart is all but subtle. I swear I can feel his pulse on his full, wet lips as we kiss. That invisible sort of fire only true lovers know ignites between our bodies.
I don’t know how it happens, but at once, we’re upstairs, our clothes are on the floor, and I’m staring into his eyes, seeing him past every wall he’s let down, the real Toby, naked in more ways than just his body. I tell him we’ll try whatever he wants, here in the safety of my room. We’ll chase any urge in his heart, and I’ll be there with him every step, showing him how it’s done.
“I want to try being the top,” he states unexpectedly.
I thought he’d