We left Aaron’s apartment early the next morning before the sun barely rose above the horizon, figuring that pressing our luck wasn’t such a swell idea. Of course, pressing our bodies together for the remainder of the evening was a foregone conclusion. Trevor then went back to his home, while I went back to mine. Well, mine and Curtis’s.
He met me in the kitchen just after I arrived. “Nice night?” he asked, the smile there, but something else as well, something I’d never seen on his face before, and something I couldn’t quite place. Not yet, anyway.
I opened the fridge and took out some OJ. I was parched. No wonder. So much bodily fluid had been sweat out, spewed out, dripped and flicked, that it was a miracle I didn’t turn to dust right there and then. I took a healthy swig and replied,
