“No.” Zack meant it. He pictured John’s distraught face again and felt a pang in his chest.

“Then chances are, he’s in just as much pain right now as you are. If nothing else, that ought to comfort you.”

Zack frowned. “No, that makes me feel worse. I don’t want him to be in pain.”

“Then there’s your answer,” Mr. Alvarez said. “You still care about him. Is that enough to overcome the hurt?”

“I don’t know?” Zack said. “Maybe. I just don’t want to feel like I’m letting him off too easy.”

“Son,” Mr. Alvarez said, “if feeling like you haven’t punished him enough is the only thing keeping you from him, then you’d better call him right now.”

Zack hesitated. “I don’t know. I’m still really confused.”

“Just try not to let stubbornness and pride keep you from being happy.”

Zack exhaled, feeling more confused than ever. “I should go. Thank you for the advice. It was good seeing you.” He stood up and leaned over the bed to give him an awkward half hug.

Mr. Alvarez patted his back. “Take care, son.”

“You too.”

Zack was halfway home when he made a split decision. He turned north toward Atwater Village, heart hammering. The next thing he knew, he was pulling up in front of John’s house. For a moment, Zack just sat in his car and stared. Part of him wanted to drive away and pretend he’d never been here, but a much larger part was dying to see John’s face.

He glanced at the driveway. John’s car was there. That meant John probably was too. What if he was studying? Or worse, what if he was calling a sex worker right now? The thought made Zack’s blood sizzle.

He was out of the car before his mind could process the motion. His feet felt leaden, but he was powerless to stop them. He raised a trembling hand and knocked on the front door. Seconds crawled by like hours. He’d never been so nervous in his life.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard John’s muffled voice call, “Be right there!” It was too late to run now. What if John took one look at him and slammed the door in his face? Zack’s palms started to sweat.

The knob rattled, and a second later, the door swung inward. John was standing on the other side in sweatpants and nothing else. Rivulets of water trickled down his bare torso, following the dips and planes of his abdominal muscles. He had a towel pressed to his hair, which had darkened to the color of burnished bronze. His skin was flushed, and he smelled like soap.

He froze when he saw Zack. At first, he just gaped at him. Then he breathed, “Oh.”