Chapter 17“Does this count as our first date?” Devante asked over takeout pasta in Michael’s apartment, the day after they officially became boyfriends.
Michael shook his head. He was draped over one side of the sofa, arm flung over the back to face Devante full on. Occasionally he nudged Devante’s foot with his own. Devante was unreasonably pleased about it. “If we’re counting these as dates, we have to go back to the beginning,” Michael said. “This would be our couple-dozenth or so date.” He had a Styrofoam container of chicken and salad in his lap, which he was attempting to cut up with the cheap plastic knife the restaurant had provided. Devante was enjoying laughing at him.
“Hmm,” Devante said, loading up a forkful of pasta Alfredo. “I like the idea of us having been on dozens of da
