It's dark outside, and I have a feeling that the snow will be piled up past my thigh by the time midnight rolls round. Though I can't say I'm really focused on that. Or the Newsies cast party happening around me. Or the "spicy" game of truth or dare we currently have going on.

Josiah Richmond is sitting on my lap. He's sitting on my lap, curved around elaborately - I don't want to think about how elaborately - so that he can sling one arm over my shoulders.

This was a cruel dare. Screw Edward.

Seriously, I'm focusing on pictures of baby squirrels freezing to death outside, because it's probably the only thing that can save me right now from embarrassing myself.

No one really understands the politics abundant inside a high school theatre troupe. It's all, "So-and-so is totally screwing with such-and-such behind her back," and, "So-and-so can't actually sing that well; I heard they smoke a pack a day." It's all total bull, and it's all very passive-aggressive.

Edward is probably still mad at me that I told him that I didn't want to go out with him again - even after he gave me a tiny Hershey's Kiss - and that's probably why he dared Josiah to sit on my lap for five rounds.

We're only on our second round now. I can hardly stand it.

"Nick," comes the voice of one of the tech crew kids, Christa. I look over and up at her. She's a junior, a year under me; she used to have a big crush on me when she was a freshman. Ever since I came out, she's seemed way too invested in what I'm doing. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare." Truths are boring. It's always, "Who's the most attractive person in the room?" or something. (That was Edward's truth. He said me, then turned around and gave his stupid, cruel dare to Josiah.)

"I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room."

There it is again: that "most attractive person" thing.

A few of the freshmen girls giggle, as if I'm going to walk over there and just plant one on their lips. And then there's Edward, seated all the way across the room from me, staring at me challengingly, expectantly. All the other guys in the room either have their gazes focused on me or as uncomfortably away from me as possible.

From on top of me, Josiah looks down and smiles gently. I don't think anyone else can see it - we're sat in an armchair in the corner, all by ourselves - but he's definitely biting his lip.

Cats puking. Starving children. Angry vacuums.

It's barely working. I hate everyone. Everyone. Sucks.

"I mean," I say once, too quietly, then again, louder. "I am lazy. . . . And Josiah is right here."

"I could move," he offers, but not in a way that even sounds like he means to.

"It's fine," I tell him, then snake one of my arms over his shoulders and cup his jaw, bringing his face down to mine while my other hand rests on the side of his torso. I can feel his ribs expand slowly, cautiously, as his lips meet mine. They're soft at first, and then he scooches closer, his grip on me tightening.

Our heads tilt in some kind of weird but enticing harmony, and my heart's beating too rapidly for me to even think about non-exciting things. He's just so soft. . . .

There's laughing. "Get a room, you two!" someone cries. Probably one of the over-eager freshmen.

Josiah pulls away, smiling widely, winks once, and turns around.

Ugh. Ugh, to the ugh, to the ugh.

Four rounds later, and Josiah's still on me.

I think we're acting like we both don't realize that it's over. That he doesn't have to sit on me any more. But I'm not complaining. At all.

It's about 10:30 when kids start getting calls from their parents, telling them they need to come home. Soon enough, there are about nine people there. All of them are waiting on rides. Except for me, of course; I live close enough to Josiah to not have to worry, and I'm sure my parents are asleep. It can't get too bad.

I text my parents that I'm going to help Josiah clean up, then knock him playfully off my lap and ask him what I can do to help.

He blinks up at me with blue eyes, rubbing his back and grinning. "I mean, you could help me up."

Everyone's left by the time we're about done cleaning up. Josiah's mom comes down and thanks me with a very Richmond-like hug, and says, "It's getting pretty bad out there. Do you want a ride?"

"I should be fine," I tell her, "but thanks."

She just smiles like her son and picks up a bag of rubbish to bring upstairs.

"Nick," Josiah says from around a corner. I turn; his room is down here, I know. I've never seen it. There's just a sign on the door that says, "Stay out, you lovable horndogs".

The door is open, and the lights are on. He's leaning on the doorjamb, cocky, lazy, his dark hair pushed against one side of his head.

"Hey," I say softly, stopping right in front of him. I'm nervous - because we kissed earlier. Because he sat on me for, like, an hour.

Because I want to kiss him again.

He bites his lip, and his eyes flit down to the floor. "So, um," he says, taking a hesitant step forward. One of his hands reaches out, almost lazily, and I step forward into him, letting it snake around my waist.

"Um," I say back to him quietly, playfully.

His lips land on mine, and he presses me into the door as my hands snake up around his torso and clasp his back like I'll die if I don't. He sighs softly into me, and I can only think of how glad I am that we're finally alone, and how much I haven't let myself know that I've wanted this.

We break apart for just a moment, neither of us pulling away entirely. Josiah breathes against my cheek for a moment. I'm inhaling slowly, trying not to freaking faint. (Because, my heart is beating so rapidly, it seems a likely possibility.)

"This is nice," he chuckles breathily.

"Hmm," I sigh in response, eyes still closed.

"Josiah, honey!" comes Mrs. Richmond's voice. "Listen, tell your friend that he's going to have to stay here. A few kids had to turn back, the snow's so bad."

Josiah groans. I release him.

The first thing I see is Edward, Missy Stevens, and one of the obnoxious sophomores head into the basement. Missy's all smiling and bouncy, as usual, while Edward just glowers at the sheepish sophomore. (And me, too. Though less at me.)

"Is it that bad out?" Josiah asks them as he hands the sophomore an oversized shirt of his I've never seen him wear before. Face red from either the cold or embarrassment, she heads into the bathroom to get changed as Missy takes her makeup off.

Edward seems to have a frown emblazoned on his face. "Yeah. My car got stuck at the end of the street." He catches my eye. "I wouldn't have turned around if Missy didn't insist on it."

Of course; they left together. He must have been giving her a ride.

"Glad to see she's sensible," I remark, peeking out Josiah's basement window. Or, trying to, anyway - his window well is filled up past the brim.

His scowl burns my back.

"So, you guys should call your parents and let them know that it's too dangerous to drive," Josiah says. I turn to look at him, surprised to see that he's in the middle of taking his shirt off. He already has some beat-up sweatpants on. His chest is soft, lightly chiseled; his Adam's apple bobs as he catches me staring.

The sophomore has stepped out of the bathroom, her own leggings matched with Josiah's shirt. I wonder for a second if it smells like him: apples, vanilla, cinnamon. (Not that I smell him. He's just . . . he smells good, okay?) For that second - that split second - there's this surge of jealousy that I have trouble pushing down and ignoring, before I remember that she's just a cringey li'l sophomore.

"Hot chocolate upstairs," calls Mrs. Richmond gently as she leans into the stairwell, where I'm sat. I smile up at her but don't move to get up.

I call home, guiltily, and sigh when I hear the voice of my brother Ben on the receiving line. "Hey," I say, "why are you still up, buddy?"

"I couldn't sleep," he tells me. Straightforward, as always. "So I came downstairs to watch the Discovery channel. Did you know that rabbits aren't rodents?"

"I didn't," I say, smiling slightly. Ben finds documentaries fascinating, and if we tell him to go to bed, he blames it on his Asperger's and tells us to leave him alone. He's smart. Really smart, especially when it comes to figuring out ways to stay up late and watch documentaries.

"Listen, I'm going to have to stay the night at Josiah's. The weather's just too bad." There's no response. "Ben?"

"Huh?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah. I'm watching kittens being born."

"Kittens? What happened to the rabbits, my dude?" I can't help but smile.

"That's what baby rabbits are called."

"Cool. So, will you tell Mo--"

"You're at your friend's house. Got it. Love you. Bye!" He hangs up.

He's so snarky. You gotta love it, though.

I shove the phone in my pocket and sigh, heading back into the main room of the basement. Josiah offered up his room to the girls, till his mom ushered them upstairs with a scolding look his way.

He also brought me a mug of that hot chocolate. Which was nice, and sweet, and totally doesn't make me think of what his lips will taste like afterward.

He pulls out the mattress of a trundle couch and makes it up. "Who wants this - you, or Nick?" he asks Edward, smiling up as he fluffs a pillow. (Who even fluffs their pillows? Not me. My pillows are pretty my-head-shaped now.)

"I'll take it," he says. Gruffly, arms folded. Drama queen. "Better than sleeping on the floor."

And that's when it hits me: I'll be sleeping in Josiah's room. With Josiah. Alone.

I take in what's left of a packet of Oreos with me, the need to stress eat strong. Sprawled on the bed, Josiah lies over the covers, propped up on one hand and scrolling along his phone's screen. Blotches of red begin to work up his neck as he looks up at me.

"You can close the door if you want," he says, quiet.

Obtuse. Rubber goose. Green moose. Guava juice.

My gulp can't be too obvious, right? "Sure," I say. The door is shut.

Giant snake. Birthday cake. Large fries.

He bites his lip.

Large. Fries.

His eyes flicker to the bed next to him.

CHOCOLATE SHAKE.

I clamber onto the mattress not too close to him, trying not to make eye contact. I'm probably just as red as he is, which is pretty red. Then, like the idiot I am, I hold out the Oreos. "Hungry?"

His brow furrows. "Yes. Unless that was an innuendo . . . ?"

"No, no, no," I stammer, definitely more red by this point. He and I both start nervously chuckling. The Oreos sit untouched, and before I know it, we're both watching old - "old" - Vines on his phone, leaning against each other.

His head starts to turn towards mine. Slowly. I want to tell him to cut the crap and kiss me already, but maybe it's because he's tired, because I know I am, and I find myself moving just as sluggishly.

His lips meet mine right as my eyes close, and we're suddenly on each other in seconds. He's pressing me to the mattress, not quite straddling me. My hands cup his face and neck whilst his work up the sides of my torso.

It feels nice.

It doesn't taste to bad either - his lips are sweet with cinnamon and chocolate, just like I'd hoped.

He relaxes against me even more, and I let myself loosen up. Without warning, he breaks away and sighs again, like he did earlier. Then he just slows his breathing, his arms now fully wrapped around my torso.

"This is nice," he breathes in the dark. "You and me."

"Yeah," I say in a way that sounds more like a light laugh than anything. "It really is."

I pull the covers over us, because this feels like enough. For now, at least. It's dark, for which I'm glad. The covers go over us pretty easily, and I press my lips lightly against his cheek and stay there till I'm sure he's asleep. Then, I close my eyes and tell myself that I'm right in thinking I'll be able to sleep.