“Your natural complexion is pale as milk, bestie. I’ve seen you in the library basement. You practically glow in the dark.”
Elliot, face now covered in green paste, speaks for the first time since his initial declaration of nightmare. “Can we skip the part where Ryan pretends he’s not affected by this and get to the part where he tells us what he actually wants?”
The question cuts through the hubbub. Everyone falls silent, looking at me expectantly.
What do I want?The answer is both simple and terrifying.
“I want Oliver,” I admit quietly. “Not just the physical stuff, though that’s…that’s good. Really good. But I want more than that. I want to be with him.”
Jackson’s hand lands on my shoulder, warm and grounding. “Then be with him.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve never done this before! Any of it!” The words come out louder than I intended, frustration bleeding through. “I don’t know how relationships work. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or say or feel. What if I mess it up? What if I do something wrong and he realizes I’m not worth the effort?”
“Ryan,” Jackson says, shifting to face me properly. “Can I tell you something?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not really.” He smiles, but it’s gentle. “When I first started falling for Drew, I was terrified. Like, genuinely panic-attack-inducing terrified. Because I’d never felt that way about a guy before, and I didn’t know what it meant or what to do about it.”
Drew makes a soft sound from across the room but doesn’t interrupt.
“I spent weeks convincing myself it was just admiration,” Jackson continues. “That I only wanted to be his friend. That the way my heart raced when he walked into a room was totally platonic and definitely not a sign that I wanted to do unspeakable things to him.”
“This is very romantic,” Gerard whispers to Elliot, who shushes him.
“But here’s the thing I eventually figured out.” Jackson squeezes my shoulder. “There’s no right way to do this. No instruction manual. No step-by-step guide that tells you exactly how to fall in love with someone. You just…do it. Messily. Imperfectly. With a lot of awkward conversations and embarrassing moments and times when you say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not supposed to be. I’m being honest with you. Real talk.” Jackson’s eyes meet mine, and there’s nothing but sincerity there. “You’re going to mess up, Ryan. Oliver’s going to mess up too. That’s not a sign that you’re doing it wrong. That’s just whatrelationships are. Two imperfect people trying to figure each other out.”
Drew clears his throat, drawing attention to himself. He’s stretched out on the floor now, head propped on one hand, looking like he’s about to deliver a TED talk on debauchery.
“My turn,” he announces. “Since Jackson covered the emotional stuff, let me address the practical concerns.”
“I’m scared,” I say honestly.
“You should be. I’m about to give you advice.”
Gerard snickers. Elliot sighs deeply.
“Here’s the thing about physical intimacy,” Drew begins, and his voice shifts into something almost serious. “It’s scary the first time. And the second time. And honestly, sometimes the hundredth time, depending on what you’re trying. But the fear doesn’t mean you’re not ready. My advice? Communicate. Like, actually use your words. Tell Oliver what feels good and what doesn’t. Ask him what he wants. Check in during. Check in after. The hottest thing you can do in bed is make sure everyone’s having a good time.”
“That’s…actually good advice.”
“I know. I’m a genius. Gerard, you’re up.”
Gerard practically levitates off the floor. His face mask has dried into a crackly shell, making his expressions even more dramatic than usual.
“Okay, okay, okay,” he says, bouncing on his knees. “So. Ryan. Bestie. Light of my life. Fire of my loins.”
“Please don’t quote Nabokov at me.”
“I wasn’t—okay, maybe I was, but that’s not the point!” Gerard waves his hands expansively. “The point is that you and Oliver are clearly crazy about each other, and you’re clearly heading toward the bedroom, so I just want you to know that there’s nothing to be afraid of. Bodies come in all shapes and sizes, and hockey players especially have some, shall we say, unique proportions.”
