I watched the movie, but none of it registered. It felt like my hand had been resting so close to Alex’s for so long that I wanted to scream. It rested on my knee, fingers curled up like a dying spider. But it was more inviting that way, right? My fingers were out there, ready to be held. They felt sort of sweaty, but I didn’t move in case it made Alex lose his nerve. The second I take it away, he might think that I was moving it away from him.
Why won’t he hold my hand?
Is he expecting me to make the first move? How do I know for sure he’s even gay? I mean, he knows I am, and he agreed to come to the movies with me alone… Does he know I like him?
He must. I thought of our conversations. He’d said he thought my new haircut was cute- which it certainly wasn’t. Guys always look weird right after they get their hair cut. It’s like a rule.
But why would he say it was cute unless he liked me and wanted me to feel better?
He readjusted himself in his seat, took a sip of his soda, and reached over for some popcorn. I stiffened, but his eyes were glued to the screen. Is he really watching?
I tried to relax in the dark theater. I would just relax, and he would make a move eventually. And it was definitely his turn to make a move. I’d invited him here, which was definitely a leap. He’d never actually told me that he was gay. I’d just assumed. When I’d confided in him, all he’d said was “Really?”
“Yeah. Really,” I’d responded, glad he couldn’t see my face; we’d been talking on the phone.
“Good,” he’d said, and then somehow we’d gotten off that topic. Why hadn’t he said “me too” or something?
I glanced at Alex out of my the side of my eye. He was staring at the screen intently. His dark eyes gleamed with the flashes on screen. He had thick eyebrows, and a strong jawline. Masculine and gorgeous. He was so sure of himself, always confident and out-going.
Then why am I always the one putting myself out on a limb?
Because I want him to tell me it’s okay. I want him to say he feels the same way.
I sighed.
He glanced over at me. Oh, shit. That was too loud. I’m so obvious.
I could hardly see his face, it was so dark. I suddenly wanted to badly. I wondered if he could tell that I was looking at him out of the corner of my eye.
Alex’s hand slowly reached for the popcorn, and he ate it piece by piece, still peeking at me. He wiped his hand off on his jeans when the popcorn was gone.
My hand’s right there, I encouraged silently.
He turned his head back towards the movie screen, his hand mimicking mine, resting gently on his leg, waiting to be grabbed.
He’s really gonna make me do it?
I should. It’s no big deal. He’s probably thinking the same thing I had been.
But what if he isn’t? What if he doesn’t even like me like that?
He must. Why else would he have come to the movies with me? Why else would he have stared at me like that?
I don’t know, but it was actually a little creepy.
Just do it.
My heart raced. It took years for my hand to reach his. But when it did, his fingers laced in between mine easily, as if we’d been doing this for years. As if this wasn’t the first boy I’d held hands with in public.
He turned his head towards me, and I turned, too. He smiled, and I couldn’t help smiling back.
And then he leaned towards me. This can’t be happening…
But he didn’t lean in to kiss, he leaned in to whisper.
“You’re blushing,” he teased quietly. The tone of his voice was so soft, so sexy. I wanted him to keep talking to me like that.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he replied. Our faces were so close. Our noses touched. A finger from his other hand was suddenly under my chin, pulling my face up.
Right before our lips met, I said softly, “Really?”
“Yeah. Really.”
And then his lips were on mine and I lost all trains of thought for the first time in my life.

