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“So, we were only fifteen minutes in. Want us to re—pick another movie?” Gio glanced up at the camera guiltily.

“Why?” Zeke glanced at the paused screen. “Oh, this movie.”

“Yeah, let’s pick something el—”

“We’re roasting it, right?” Zeke raised a brow, and I snorted.

“Of course. I mean, even if the movie was good, we’d still be talking smack.” I waved at my friends to chill out.

“This movie’s nine kinds of fucked up. I’m in. No need to restart unless you feel strongly.” Zeke kicked his shoes off and crossed his legs beneath him on the couch, watching the screen with interest.

“Hood Leprechaun it is!” Gio, who was hosting the stream, resumed full screen and hit play.

The movie was terrible, but props to the actor for being able to rip a bong in that horrid mask.

“Soooo, what about you, Zeke. Do youuuuuu smoooke the pot?” Syl batted his lashes.

“Nah. You?” Zeke glanced at each of us.

“Once, didn’t care for it,” Lex laughed.

Gio shrugged. “When it’s available. I don’t go out in search of it, though. If it finds me, I partake.”

Syl stuck his tongue out. “I can’t deal with the taste.”

Zeke leaned into my side and whispered so barely into my ear. “It used to be a lot better before they started fucking with it.”

I shoved him away, stifling a laugh.

“Hey! No flirting. No panky!” Syl poked his screen, making the camera vibrate.

“Alright, alright.” I held my hands up. Zeke pulled me into his side and cuddled up, leaning over to put his head in my lap. I couldn’t resist resting my hand on his neck, fingers wandering up his jawline and into the shaven sides of his head, tracing the latest design he had coiled in. And I knew better than to play with his hair. The types of locs he wore required lots of care, and so when he leaned in to let me trace the field of them, I gently ran my fingers between them to separate the strands, assuring none of them had stuck together.

I’d never say it out loud, but I only knew that because my parents had owned a Komondor dog at one point. Thery required daily separation of the cords to keep the aesthetic of their coat.

Having curly hair, myself, didn’t prepare me for his tighter curls. The goal of his was to wind together, and mine the opposite.

“That was dirty, right there,” Zeke commented, pointing at the leprechaun as it murdered yet another person.

But the horror movie had soured on me a little, not because of the political incorrectness, but because I realized there were books just as fucked up as that—ones I’d never be able to read again. All because I realized that no matter the comedic nature of the horror, that with one unfocused read, it could become my reality. And as if he understood my thoughts, Zeke reached out to squeeze my hand.

As the night went on, the movie ended, and we raided the fridge, eating olives from the jar and tossing cheese cubes at one another into our mouths.

I had a spare toothbrush that I sat out, and we brushed our teeth beside one another next to the pink sink and matching toilet. The tub was recent, a fiberglass off-white that clashed with the yellow tiles of the floor. Zeke never commented, though, despite the décor burning my retinas a little.

From there, we made it into my bed, cuddling up to one another face-to-face as I nuzzled into his chest, his tightly coiled chest hair rasping over my chin. My cheeks burned as I thought about the hair on his legs and groin, eventually thinking about my own with a wince.

“What’s wrong, dear heart?” His sleepy whisper made me shiver. I liked the moniker, antique like he secretly was. I didn’t deserve something so sweet.

“I haven’t shaved in so long…” I winced as he glanced down, the moonlight peeking between my shades, catching the perfect amber in his eyes. He rubbed a thumb over my lightly stubbled chin.

“Seems fine to me.” He brought my hand to his face for a raspy rub.

“I mean…there.” I gestured down.

“Ohhh.” He tilted my chin up and kissed. “Grass doesn’t grow on a busy field.”

I furrowed my brow.