Tilt (12 page)

yourselves at home
, he says, patting the sofa

beside him. Orgy? Don’t think so. Thank

God Dylan is on the same page as me.

Uh. Not now, thanks. Mik and I would

appreciate a little alone time, you know?

Ty waves us down the hall.
You can have

my parents’ room. Just be sure to clean

up after yourselves, okay?
His bluntness

stings, but not enough to keep me from

following Dylan, feeling like I’m about

to do something really filthy in a stranger’s

bed. Which sort of makes me wonder

what has gone on in that bed before we

got there. Dylan pulls me through the door,

and his kisses are filled with intent. “Wait,”

I say, going into the bathroom to get

a big clean-looking towel. I put it over

the pretty paisley spread and as we start

taking off our clothes, it comes to me that

we’ve barely said a dozen words to each

other tonight. That’s plenty for Dylan, who

pulls me down on top of him. I look into

his eyes. “I love you.” Does he know how

very much?
I love you, too. Totally.

We are kissing. Licking. Biting. Moaning

louder than the TV in the other room.

He’s ready. Wants inside me. But

there’s something important missing.

“Not yet. Where’s the condom?”

I forgot it. But it’s okay. I’ll pull

out. Don’t worry.
Don’t worry?

We didn’t use one last time. It was

right after my last period. But now

it’s been a couple of weeks. “Dylan.

This is dangerous. I can’t get pregnant.”

He Rolls Me onto My Back

Strong. Sure of himself. Then he smiles

down at me.
I know what I’m doing.

Promise. I won’t get you pregnant.

And I have to have you right now.

He hesitates, waiting for my answer.

Everything about me is shouting yes,

so I nod and lose myself in the moment.

Making love with him is so beautiful.

We rock together, in rhythm. One.

As he starts to tense, I remind him with

a subtle lift of his hips. He withdraws just

in time, slicking my belly.
See? All good.

I am happy for the towel beneath us.

Happier to lie together, bathed in sweat

and the sticky proof of our love. It is, for sure,

all good. At least, until I get home.

Tyler

He Takes Mikayla Home

Dylan, my almost brother.

The top of my list of best

buddies

and yet I have never once

confessed that I loved Mikki

before he did. Why that fact

should

bother me now, I have no idea.

I mean, he and she are superglued.

Maybe it’s because Emily and I are

not

inseparable anymore. Caitlin

is a diversion, that’s all.

I will never

covet

time with her, like I did with Em.

Like I once hoped to with Mik.

Dylan and I have been

each other’s

sounding boards. But when it

comes to what really counts

to us, and between us,

things

border on secretive.

Shane

Some Secrets

Should never be admitted outside

a confessional. Should be written

on scraps of paper. Shredded. Burned,

their ashes allowed to lift upon the wind

toward heaven. Whispered apologies

to the only One capable of forgiveness.

Other secrets should be shouted long

before they ever are. Should be sung,

solos in front of the choir. Given voice

and melody. Arias, swelling to fill

the dead, empty space around deception

with the unbearable lightness of truth.

And then there are those that can only

be whispered. Shared between trustworthy

friends, if only to lighten their weight

in the telling. Secrets meant to be kept

like treasure—secured in a concealed

lockbox, tucked away inside your heart.

Why?

That’s the question I keep asking myself.

Why did I have to fall in love with someone

destined to die early? Impending death

hangs thick around here already. I’m steeped

in it and its cologne does not wash off

easily. Okay, I know Alex isn’t, like, even

close to checking out. His HIV is under

control for now. He’s not even sick, not really.

I’ve researched the virus in the past—

just needed to know the facts, man, before

ever expecting to tumble for some guy

who was actually infected. I get that he isn’t

going to croak any time soon. Understand

that there are ways to be together without

catching it myself, even if our relationship

grows beyond chastity, all the way to passion.

I’m Tired

Of living chaste. Damn it, today

I’m sixteen years old. And I know

that isn’t exactly over the hill, but

I want to see what sex is all about.

Most of me wants to find out with

Alex. But the little piece that’s afraid

is completely paranoid. The kind of

paranoid love struggles to conquer.

I’ve smoked weed with him. Held

his hand. And I’ve kissed him—

full-on making out, so much better

than anything I expected or could have

invented in my warped imagination.

But when I get home, I take massive

doses of vitamin C and zinc. Stupid,

I know. Like Airborne could ward off

HIV. Still, it’s a start. Anyway, I don’t

have a choice. Though I haven’t admitted

it to him yet, wrong, right, dangerous or harmless,

I am totally in love—and lust—with Alex.

Later, We’re Going Out

To celebrate my birthday. Not

like anyone here at home is planning

a party. I mean, what a surprise

it would be if one of my parents

actually acknowledged the occasion.

As usual, Dad was out the door before

I even got up this morning. And when

I sat across from Mom, drinking coffee

as she read the newspaper (complete

with the date and everything!), she barely

looked up. “Hey, Mom,” I said. “Any

plans for the
day
?” But she just kept

skimming the pages.
Nope. Nothing

special. How about you?
Articulated

like she actually gave a half damn.

“Having dinner at La Strada, with

my b—my friend, Alex.” It’s one

of the fanciest restaurants in Reno.

A date restaurant. But all she said was,

That’s nice.
Wherever her head was at,

it was certainly not thinking back to