“Is this a competition to see who can say that word the most?" I ask in an attempt at levity.
"Which word? Boyfriends?"
"Yes, boyfriends."
"Are you still as competitive as you used to be?" Callan asks.
“Are you asking me that as my boyfriend?"
Callan dips his chin. “No.”
My chest becomes tight as though someone is squeezing the air out of my lungs. I took the joke too far. Fuck, I was an idiot.
“Do we need a label?” Callan asks.
“No.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to label myself, let alone us. Can’t we just see how things go without making anything official?”
“That works for me.”
“I hope you don’t think I’m being silly.”
“You’re not.”
His cheeks redden. “I feel like a teenager again."
"In what way?"
"Well, for a start, you're the first guy I’ve ever kissed, and I’ve got all the fluttery nervousness of a first crush going on.” He threads his fingers through mine. "I'm not used to being the one who doesn't know what to do."
"You must have been at some point. Everyone was. No one knows how sex works right off the bat, no matter how much you think you know.”
"I don't remember my first time,” Callan admits. "I was drunk. I was also drunk the second time and the third. By the time I had sex sober, I knew what I was doing." His expression darkens as he looks away from me.
I crook my finger under his chin and coax him to look at me. "It's in the past."
Callan takes a deep breath. "I know. I need to look forward, not back. I can't undo the past. I can't change the things I've done. I can only be a better person moving forward."
"You're pretty awesome from where I'm standing."
"Standing? You look like you're lying down to me."
I tickle his ribs. He squirms a little but nowhere near as much as I’d hoped. Then again, he never was that ticklish, a fact he reminded me of not long ago. "I forgot how much of a joker you can be.”
“I think you bring out that side of me.”
“What side?”
“The fun side. He’s been buried for a long time.” He sniffs. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be getting melancholy.”
“Do you need me to distract you?” I stroke his jaw.
“How?”
“With more kissing?"
“That would be grand.” He pecks my lips and then runs his fingers over my beard. "Kissing you is strange. Not bad, just strange."
