He could feel the small beads gathering under his arms and his heart was screaming through his T-shirt. He began to worry anxiously if the one on the left would be able to hear it pounding right through the pillow that he hugged to his chest. He wanted to stop this stupid movie and stop this stupid dance that they both knew the steps to all too well.

“Kind of a shitty movie, huh?” the one on the left mumbled through a yawn as he crooked one arm behind his head.

“S’alright. Not great,” the one on the right agreed.

“Should we shut it off?”

“We could. You getting tired?” the one on the right asked as he reached for the remote.

“Nah. Let’s just do something else.”

“Well, I haven’t had a foot massage today,” the one on the right joked and dared to kick his friend in the shin. “Shouldn’t I get a reward for chasing you around the UCLA track three times a week?”

“Your reward is fitness and getting to watch my ass for twenty laps.”

“Well, usually that’s only fifteen laps. You’re nearly lapping me on the last five.”

“That’s my reward.” The one on the left grinned a silly, crooked smile.

The one on the right dropped his jaw, ready to pose a question. A question about the definition of his friend’s reward. But the sentence hung on his tongue like a skydiver afraid to leap and never took flight.

The one on the left swung his feet up onto the couch and adjusted the blanket behind him into a makeshift pillow. “But since you brought it up, shouldn’t the winner get a massage first? I promise, the day you win I’ll happily return the favor.”

“You’ve heard of Tonya Harding, right? I’m not above that.” The one on the right laughed and grabbed his friend’s foot and rested it on his thigh. The boys who were men caught each other’s eye and then looked away quickly. This was a new level of intimacy, and neither knew exactly how to behave.

The one on the right rubbed his hands firmly over his friend’s foot, pressing his thumbs into the meaty flesh of his heel and toes. It was just his foot, but there was something incredibly exciting about touching him this way. The one on the left let a small groan of approval escape his lips as he slid down further into the couch, pushing his feet right into the lap of his friend and resting his powerful legs on top of the other boy.

The one on the right felt himself stiffen in his basketball shorts and push up precariously close to the elastic waistband. His eyes danced over his friend’s contented face and he thought, “This is enough. This is all I need. Just to be able to make him happy.”