He stood up behind me and stepped toward the door slowly to allow for my garbage detour, then held the door outside open forme when I got to him. "It's about three blocks down. You good to walk?"
I nodded as he joined me on the sidewalk. The ask-about-walking thing was really ingrained in him; I wondered again what condition his sister with chronic pain had.No, Hen, not your business. You're probably never even going to see this guy again."Yep," I responded after a second too long, not missing the awkward look he shot me as he realized he’d done it again and possibly weirded me out.
We covered the three blocks between McDonalds and Planned Parenthood in silence, both of us with hands in our pockets. I didn't know about him, but I put mine there because after the first time our hands accidentally brushed as we walked beside each other, it just seemed smarter to avoid that potentialdid you do that on purpose or notmoment.
Jamison took over as we entered the clinic, sidling up to the front desk and stating our purpose with no apparent shame. "We'd like to get HIV tests and STI panels," he told the receptionist without pause. "Two of us. And PEP for him."
And didn't that just make it obvious how we'd spent our evening? I hid a wince, expecting to see judgment on the receptionist's face, but she just smiled and nodded. "Sure, do you have appointments or are you walk-ins?"
"Walk-ins. Hopefully you can fit us in?" He gave her a charming smile that gave me a shiver even though it wasn't directed at me.
"No problem, hon. We can make it work." She handed over two clipboards. "Have a seat and fill these out. You can bring them back here when you're done, and bring me your insurance cards and photo IDs at the same time." She looked past Jamison to meet my eyes. "Are you wanting to go back together, or… ?"
What was the right answer to that? I mean, we were going to be sharing our results with each other anyway, but what ifthe doctor asked embarrassing questions that I didn't want to answer in front of a near-stranger?
"Separate," Jamison answered before I could get too bogged down in my overthinking. He glanced at me and cocked his head questioningly, apparently seeking my approval. "No offense," he said more softly, leaning back toward me. "Just seemed potentially awkward to do it together."
I nodded, then shook my head. "No, yeah. Makes sense." We took the clipboards from the receptionist and settled ourselves into a set of standard, uncomfortable waiting room chairs. I filled in my vital data, my insurance information, and my emergency contact information, then flipped to the next page, which presented a litany of conditions I was supposed to mark if I had any of them. I was a pretty healthy guy, so I was able to give everything a blanket "no" except the entry for anxiety, but I couldn't resist the urge to glance at my companion's paper as I finished marking mine. I saw a few "yes" checkmarks, but couldn't make out what they went with without looking long enough that it would become obvious. I was already breaking the social code by peeking, and I forced my eyes back to my own paper, hopefully before he caught me. "I'm just gonna… " I gestured with my clipboard toward the receptionist.
He nodded and put one final mark on his page, then flipped the top papers back down over it. "Yep, same."
We stood up in tandem and gave the paperwork and our cards to the woman at the desk, then returned to our seats. I wondered how long we'd have to wait before we were called back. Should I try to start polite conversation? Was that rude in a waiting room? Should I just pick up one of the years-old magazines littering the coffee table in front of us? Finally, I mentally shrugged and pulled out my phone to idly check BlueSky. Better to not risk putting my foot in my mouth any more than I already had over the past eighteen hours.
2
Jamison
Day 1
The wait wasn't as long as it could have been for a pair of walk-ins, and before long we were back on the sidewalk in front of Planned Parenthood, regarding each other awkwardly as we tried to figure out how to get ourselves out of this unprecedented social situation. Ending a first date was bad enough. Ending a night that culminated in a trip to the STI clinic? Definitely a new level of weird. "So uh," I began. "I should… " I gestured with my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of my apartment.
He spiked a hand through his hair, then immediately tucked it behind his ears in what seemed to be a reflexive motion. "Yeah, me too. So they, uh, they said we should have test results between two days from now and two weeks from now, depending on each test. Do you want me to, like, keep you updated in real time? As each one comes in? Or should I just let you know when I have everything?" He pulled his phone outof his pocket and unlocked it, then waved the screen at me as if demonstrating what he meant.
I considered that. On the one hand, if I was at risk for something, I'd want to know ASAP. On the other hand, five or ten separate "negative" or "positive" text exchanges over the next two weeks was… a lot. "Let's just do one check-in at the end," I finally ventured, "unless, I guess, something really notable pops up."
Another nod, and he re-tucked his hair. "Yeah. So I guess I'll, uh… I'll talk to you later. Or, well, text you. I wouldn't call you randomly, I swear." And there was that blush again.
I resisted the urge to pinch his cheek in response. He was just so adorable when he got flustered. "Text me anytime, cutie," I couldn't help flirting just a little. Besides, it was as good a way to ease out of this conversation as any. "Just hopefully with good news." I waggled my phone at him in a modern wave. "I'll talk to you later." I turned and was gone before he could respond; sometimes a quick exit was the only way to keep things from getting any more awkward.
Twenty minutes and one stop for Starbucks later, I toed off my shoes in my entryway and sighed. What a rollercoaster of a couple days. Hot sex, check. Terrifying wake-up call, check. Weird half-date/half-obligation morning spent with a near stranger whose dick had been stuffed up my ass hours earlier… checkmate.
I flopped back onto my couch, holding my Frapuccino out to avoid spillage, and rested my head against the back. "The fuck were you thinking, Jamie?" I asked myself. I'dnevergone bare with someone before. And yes, technically the condom application was usually the responsibility of the top, who was in a better position to know whether it was on or not, but that didn't absolve me of all responsibility. I was a participant too,and I could have stopped or slowed things to check. I hadn't been incoherent-level drunk. So why hadn't I?
I considered that question as I sucked down more coffee. By the time the subsequent brain freeze had cleared, I'd reached the conclusion that I hadn't double-checked the condom situation because of a combination of being just drunk enough to reduce my usual sex nerves, and plain old horniness and eagerness to just bust my nut. Amazing how momentously bad decisions can be made for the most mundane and non-notable of reasons. I just had to hope this one turned out to not be that momentous.
As I suctioned down the last of my Frapuccino, my phone chimed. I snatched it up eagerly, even though I knew it could be anything from a test result to spam email. In this case, I'd lucked out: it was the official record of the result of my rapid HIV test, the only result I was likely to get for at least a few days yet, going into my electronic chart. I clicked the link that had appeared in my texts, trying not to hold my breath. I knew they'd told me at the clinic that it came up negative, but part of me couldn't help feeling like this notification was going to yelljust kidding, you're positive!
Non-reactive. Which translated tonegative.
My breath whooshed out of me. Ok. Ok, so I really hadn't had HIV before last night. That was good. That meant I'd been playing safe and Henry was probably safe from me.
Immediately, I flipped to his contact information. We'd said we'd share our full results once we had them all, rather than dribbling them out one at a time, but I had an overpowering urge to celebrate this result, and there was only one person I could do that with without having to provide some embarrassing explanations. I quickly screenshotted the test result and attached it to a text to Hen.
Me:[image] I know we said all at once, but I felt like this was the big confirmation and you deserved to know right away. Starting it off right!
There was no response for a few minutes, and then the three dots began dancing.
Hen Rodriguez:Woot! Mine hasn't come yet but I - oh wait.
