"I don't know," Amory began. "That chicken salad didn't taste right."

"I bought it from the store." I sighed. "I thought it would be better than if I made it."

Amory shrugged, fumbling with his keys as he tried to unlock the front door. "Maybe we left it out of the fridge too long." He opened the door and dropped his keys on the table, pulling me in. He kissed my lips gently before mumbling, "Thanks for today. I had a lot of fun."

"We should do it again," I said, pecking his lips. "Maybe we can go whale watching in the summer."

He nodded, closing the front door with his foot. "Did you know that some species of whales can live up to 200 years?"

I shook my head and followed him through the halls of his house as he continued talking about the lifespan of whales. I guess we reached a very important talking point based on the way he kept going on and on about whales. I wasn't really listening, I just liked looking at his face as he pulled me around.

"...and that's why they were almost hunted to extinction."

"Cool," I murmured.

He glared at me. "You didn't listen."

"No, I heard everything." I shook my head.

"Then what's so "cool" about whaling?" He asked, sitting down on his bed.

I shrugged. "Maybe I missed a few things..."

He rolled his eyes and kicked off his shoes, waiting for me to lie down next to him.

"Your room is clean for once," I said, unlacing my boots.

"Yup." He nodded. "I did it all for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, so you don't have to spend half an hour cleaning it up."

"Well, if it was always clean then I wouldn't have to do that." I said, leaning down towards his face.

"Or maybe you should let me live in my mess?"

I shook my head, tackling him onto the bed. He laughed trying to push my weight off of him. Once he realized he wasn't going to be able to push me away he stopped and closed his eyes. I chuckled and pressed my head against his.

I could feel his weight shifting under me and suddenly, I became really aware of all the sensations in my body. Just the feeling of his hands on my arm sent shocks down my spine.

I'd thought about–of course I've thought about it.

I think about it whenever we're close like this. When his hand brushes against mine, when his shirt fits him a little too loose and his collarbone peaks through, or on nights when I feel myself wanting him closer than I've ever wanted to be with another person. It doesn't take much for my imagination to start spiraling.

"Apollo." His voice is low and almost a whisper. I barely caught it.

"Hmm?"

"You're crushing me," he squeaked.

I rolled off of him and onto my back, staring at the ceiling fan.

"Are you okay?" I asked. He nodded, grabbing my hand.

"I'm fine."

I glanced at his nightstand and sitting there on top of some tattered up books is the bracelet from Jackson's memorial. The purple and teal band looks dirty and worn, like it's been used more than once.

Without thinking, I picked it up and inspected it. My fingers pressing against the letters that spelled out Jackson Asher.

"Do you wear this?" I asked.

Amory was silent for a moment until he picked the bracelet from my hand. "Yeah, most of the time."

"Why?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

I stared at him. I think he knew I wasn't taking that answer.

"I didn't know him, but sometimes it feels like I do." He twisted the bracelet in his hands. "Blake talks about him all the time, and so do the other guys on the team."

He glanced at me. "I have an image of him in my head. I've stared at all those photos you have, but just listening to what everyone has to say about him makes me feel like I know him." He rolled his eyes, embarrassed by the sentence that just escaped his lips.

"What?"

"I just wanna get you." He poked my forehead, facing me. "I guess that's why I always wanted to know more about him. Maybe because..." he paused. His gaze shifted towards the ceiling fan. "I feel like—sometimes—I have to know him to understand you."

I think I can understand why he felt that way, but hearing it for the first time made me realize Amory's curiosity was never about Jackson. He wasn't the type of person that sneaked his way into gossip or knowing other people's business just because he wanted to pass judgement. He wasn't that type of person, so why was I so afraid to open up to him?

I clasped his hands. "Is it bad that I don't talk about him?"

Amory shrugged. "Do you think it is?"

"I think my feelings are broken." I sighed. "Or–I don't know. Maybe I'm just broke–"

Amory placed his finger over my lips to stop me from continuing my thought. "Why do you say that about yourself?"

His finger trailed down to my chin and I shrugged. "'Cause it's true."

"It's not." Amory muttered. "You're not a toy. You're just a person, and you're changing, not breaking."

I stared at him.

I stared at him because no one's ever described me as someone who could change. I was someone so torn that it always seemed like I was broken, and there wasn't any way to piece me back.

"You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for," I said.

"It's not about being smart, it's just the truth."

I caressed his cheek with the back of my hand, slowly traveling towards his lips, pressing my thumb on his bottom lip. I lifted his chin and placed a gentle peck on his lips. He pulled the collar of my shirt and kissed me back, this time with a sense of urgency. He parted his lips waiting for me to take the lead.

There was something about Amory that made him taste sweet, and I wanted it. His short breaths in between our kiss stirred up that feeling deep inside.

There was an overwhelming feeling in my chest. Almost like someone had released a butterfly and its wings were fluttering all around, making me feel uneasy. It was a strange feeling, but it was good.

It felt good.

I wanted more.

"I love you," I murmured.

Amory pulled away and took a moment to gaze at me. It was easy to read his expressions. He's never tried to hide his emotions with me. In the end he was always honest.

It's always written on his face.

"I love you too," he said.

He guided my hand towards his lower back, sliding up his shirt. My hand slipped underneath pressing against his warm skin. He shuddered at the feeling of my cold fingers running up his back.

"Sorry," I gasped in between our breaths.

"Feels good," he said.

"Yeah?" I teased, kissing his neck. He laughed, pushing my face away from his neck.

"Apollo, I'm ticklish."

"Mmm, good to know."

I continued, enjoying the sound of his quiet and uneven breaths. His hands were pressed against my chest, gripping my shirt.

The sudden sound of the front door opening jolted him up from the bed, and he pressed his finger against his pursed lips signaling me to be quiet. Once we heard the loud thud of the door he ran towards the window, pulling back the curtains.

"Fuck." He groaned.

"What?"

"You have to leave—now!"

I hurriedly put my shoes on, scrambling to find my phone. Amory practically pushed me down the stairs, maneuvering me towards the back door. Until he was stopped by the sound of a high pitched jingle, signaling the house alarm had been armed.

"Can't sneak out the back." A deep voice bellowed.

I turned around, slowly raising my hand to wave at the tall, dark haired man standing in the kitchen. Amory rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders.

"Dad, why are you home early?"

"I wasn't feeling well, so I came home to rest." He kept his gaze fixed on me. "But I noticed the car out front and I just couldn't help but think it might have been my intuition."

I awkwardly glanced at Amory, waiting for him to begin introductions.

"Hello, sir." I said, sticking out my hand. "I'm Apollo."

He nodded, hesitantly reaching for my hand. His grip was tight and strong as he formed a tight line with his lips. He was just as terrifying up close as he was from a distance.

"Apollo..." he trailed off. "Is this the person you've been talking about?" He asked, turning his attention to Amory.

Amory nodded. "Apollo, this is my dad. He looks scary but I promise he's just ugly."

"You're not funny," his dad said, placing a take out bag on the counter. "Excuse his attempts to make jokes. He insists—"

"Okay, that's enough. It's time for Apollo to go home. Say bye—"

"Calm down," his dad said. "I want to get to know your boyfriend."

There was an awkward silence that filled the room, and before I could get a word out, Amory beat me to it.

"Well that was enough time getting to know each other, so it's time to–"

"Levi, calm down." His dad addressed him seriously with a hard look on his face. "You're being childish."

Amory frowned, glancing at me. I think he was a little embarrassed to be scolded in front of his friends–especially his boyfriend. I cleared my throat trying to ease the tension.

"It's nice to finally meet you, sir."

"I've been curious to meet the boy who gets my son to clean his room."

"Apollo does the cleaning," Amory mumbled.

His father ignored Amory and continued staring at me. It was like he was trying to figure something out about me, or maybe he just didn't like me. I know when people don't like me. Not necessarily because of the type of person I am, but just because of how I look. I know what it feels like for people to hate me just for that. This didn't feel like those times.

"Are you gay?" He asked bluntly.

"Dad!" Amory interjected. "You can't just–"

"Are you out?" He ignored Amory's plea. "Or is this just something you think is fun?"

"Dad, stop."

"What?" I asked, confused by his sudden questioning.

"You don't look like the type of kid who'd be interested in boys. My son has a type for troublemakers. I'm just trying to figure out if you're like them too."

"Dad, stop. Apollo's not like them," he said, grabbing my arm. "This is why I didn't want you to meet him." Amory dragged me out to the front door, leaving his dad in the kitchen. I don't think I've ever seen him look so–embarrassed.

"He's not that bad," he muttered. "He just can't let go of what happened to me at my old school, so he's super defensive."

"Oh."

"I don't know if you remember but that night you went to my game, he thought you were trying to beat me up." He laughed.

"Yeah, I remember." That night I almost kissed him. The night I would have kissed him if his dad never showed up to drag him away.

"Maybe next time he'll be more–well, less annoying."

I nodded.

Mr. Hartmann's questioning caught me off guard, but it made sense. Of coarse he wouldn't trust just anyone to be with his son. Especially not some closeted kid he barley knew. I'd have to build trust for him to understand I wasn't like that guy who hurt Amory.

And to prove that, I'd have to come out to my family sooner rather than later.