And, sometimes, he leans over and brushes his mouth against my cheek, or my ear, and I'm beginning to be not so terrified to do the same thing to him.

I have a boyfriend. Even if we've never verbally given a name to it.

I'm smiling as I push open the door and step inside.

Adam being in the kitchen is a weird enough sight that it takes me a second to figure out what he's doing.

"Are you cooking?"

His head snaps up. His pale face is flushed, a bit of sweat dotting his brow. "You weren't supposed to be home yet."

"But I am." I start into the kitchen once my shoes are off, but Adam points his spatula—we owned a spatula?—to ward me off.

"Not until it's done."

I take a seat on the edge of the bed to watch him instead. "What compelled you to cook?"

"Don't know." He looks from what I think is a printed recipe to the stovetop and back again. He burns his hand twice and drops food on the floor. But it's kind of amazing, seeing him put so much effort into something the way he does when he plays guitar.

Casper would love this. Adam, trying something new. Adam, comfortable enough—with me—to not let fear of failing keep him from doing something.

I really want to kiss him.

He serves me stir fry on paper plates with apple cider in plastic wine glasses that make me laugh. We eat dinner across from each other on the floor and pretend it's a romantic date at some overpriced restaurant, complete with neatly folded napkins. The food is surprisingly good.

We lie in bed with the TV on and we kiss more than I think we've ever kissed before. The only thing better than staring at Adam's mouth is kissing his mouth, because it's warm and soft and shy like he is, and it's exciting to think no one else has ever gotten to do this before.

Adam likes to slide his hands under my shirt and trace my spine. I like to run my hands through his hair. It is a slow process, this physical aspect of us, like we are afraid touching will somehow shatter something vital we need to breathe.

But it's okay like this. Moving slow. One step at a time. We fall asleep early because I'm spent from working up the nerve to turn in my application and Adam is tired from his experiment in the kitchen, and we are both exhausted because we're doing our best to be strong, to be better.

#

When I wake up, it's to the sound of Adam near my feet and the button-mashing of a controller. He's playing a game. I roll onto my side to face the television and brush my fingers against Adam's leg. He smiles, even if he doesn't for a second lose his concentration. Only when the level is done does he twist around to look at me.