I ask him the same question again, all these years later. “Only you,” he answers. The way he rubs his legs together beneath the covers makes me think I’m not the only one turned on here, but neither of us move from the safety of our separate beds. “Thanks again for last night.”
“You’re the one who kissed me,” I point out. “I should be thanking you, I think.”
Joey laughs, a rich sound that isn’t so different from his childhood laugh that echoes in my memory. “You had it coming, mister.”
“Was it…” I don’t know how to ask him this. Now I’m the one unsure, the one who’s scared to say what’s on his mind, but I need to know. “What was it for you?”
“What do you mean?” A frown creases Joey’s face. “It was just that one kiss, I think. I’m still dressed.” He holds out the blanket to show me his
