At first, we don't really know what to do. After weirdly deciding that we're going to "date," we sit there awkwardly for a bit, laughing in that silly, nervous way two kids do when they admit they have crushes on each other. It feels so childish, so juvenile -- but at the same time, I'm all about it. I just don't know what to do next. The only question in my head is: "Now what?"
It's not like we act differently. Our flow remains the same for the rest of the night: we shower separately, get ready for bed separately, sleep in our separate beds. Nothing noticeably changes -- until the next morning, that is.
I'm leaning against the counter, chugging some OJ out of the carton and checking up on social media when Zane shuffles into the kitchen, having clearly just rolled out of bed. His hair is a mess and he's only wearing his boxer briefs and his eyes are sleepier than usual. I chuckle when he wanders in, and he smiles at me sleepily.
"'Morning," I tell him.
"'Morning," he mumbles back, running his hand over his face.
I laugh. "Rough night?" I tease.
"You have no idea," he says, and as he passes me, he leans in for a quick kiss on the lips. I'm stunned for a moment, and when Zane pulls back, he looks just as surprised as I feel. We stare at each other for a second, confused -- not by the kiss itself, but how strangely natural that felt. It was automatic and totally organic, like we've been doing it for years.
And then, both of us burst out laughing at the same time. "That was..."
"Yeah," he says, shaking his head.
There's a pause before I snort again. "Um. Anyway. Want some OJ?" I offer him the carton.
He smirks and says, "Thanks *babe*" before grasping the carton and taking a swig.
I roll my eyes. "Don't."
He laughs after swallowing. "Too much?"
"It just sounds weird coming from your mouth," I tell him.
"You signed up for this, you know," he says with a grin, handing me back the orange juice before turning around to rummage the cabinets for cereal.
"I know," I say. As I take another sip of the OJ, my eyes are fixed on Zane's backside, eyeing his musculature, the dimples in his lower back, the way his underwear hugs each cheek of his (frankly) deliciously-fat ass. I guess I don't have to discreetly ogle him anymore now that things are out in the open.
"You have any plans tonight?" he asks, going for the Raisin Bran.
"Might kill a man later," I joke, and Zane chuckles as he pours his cereal into a bowl, "but I can probably reschedule."
"Reschedule, then," he says, looking back at me with a grin.
"I'll need a reason."
"I was thinking," he says, pausing at the fridge, "that we could... y'know, go out tonight."
I smirk slightly. "Like on a date?"
"Yeah, like on a date," he says, eyeing me over once before grabbing milk out of the fridge. "I'm sure you could push back your murder plans a couple hours."
"For you? Sure," I say, and he smiles at me cheekily as he gets his breakfast ready. "What do you wanna do?"
He shrugs, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. "Was thinking something basic, like dinner and a movie." He swallows his bite before adding, "To be honest, I just really want to go to Pho Saigon again."
Even though it's breakfast, my mouth waters at the thought of Vietnamese food later on. "That sounds so good right now."
"Right?" he says, grinning. "And it's right near that nice theater. The one with the reclining chairs."
That *is* a pretty nice place. They even serve alcohol there. "I don't even know what's out, though," I say, trying to think of a movie preview that I've seen recently.
Zane just grins a bit. "There's that Aladdin remake..."
"Oh God no," I say with a laugh. A live-action version of Aladdin came out, and even though I'm undoubtedly curious as to how they revamped my favorite childhood movie of all time, I know it'll be bad. I just know it. Live-action remakes are never a good idea.
"It could be fun," he says with a laugh. "And I know you're curious."
"I mean... Maybe a little."
"Good enough for me." He smiles and then comes over to me. I swallow thickly as he gets closer, and his eyes home in on my lips before he leans down and kisses me again -- this time, holding it for just a little longer. "Mmm," he says when he pulls back, and I laugh, looking away shyly. I can feel him grinning at me, but all he says is that he'll be in the living room before exiting the kitchen and leaving me alone with a fluttering sensation in my chest.
~ ~ ~
It's only a thirty-minute stroll to that area of town, so Zane and I decide to take advantage of the good weather and walk to Pho Saigon. Even though it's not *terribly* hot, part of me wishes I settled on wearing shorts instead of jeans. I spent a good ten minutes fussing over what to wear after I showered as if Zane was someone I was trying to impress. When I realized I didn't need to pull out all the stops for someone who's been invested in my life since we were infants, I felt instantly more relaxed and settled with jeans and a simple t-shirt -- and *still*, Zane smiled at the sight of me and said I looked good. It was so strange to accept such a simple compliment from him. I felt like I was glowing.
Towards the beginning of the walk, I do something I usually do with someone I've dated for a while: I hold his hand. I reach over, and when I take Zane's hand in mine, he looks down, pauses, and then laughs. "What the hell?"
"What?" I say with a little grin. "I like holding hands. Get used to it."
"Fuck, you're gayer than I am," he teases, but he responds by shifting our hands so that our fingers lock together instead of just our palms. I smile gently to myself, appreciating how nicely we both fit into the spaces between our fingers. "You know we're in public, right?" he asks after a moment.
"Yeah."
"And you're cool with that?"
