There’s so much to learn about a person when you’re naked in bed next to them. Like with Wyatt, I can follow the moles that decorate their face, and I can trace them all the way down their chest, to their thighs, down to their ankles. And I can see the birthmark on their hip that’s shaped vaguely like the state of Washington, and I can see the same kind of stretch marks that I have, though Wyatt’s are probably from their growth spurts, almost like they’re strokes painted by a masterful artist, and I can see that they’re uncircumcised.

And they can see my scars in their full glory. Their hands trace my stomach, and I don’t feel ashamed; I don’t feel this urge to cover myself. It’s obvious that Wyatt isn’t afraid of them, that they aren’t a big deal, and, at the same time, they are. Wyatt makes me feel …

Appreciated.

Like I don’t have to hide a part of myself.

The cleanup is awkward too, sharing an illuminated bathroom as we wipe away the evidence of what we just did. And as much fun as a shower together might seem, it feels too early. Josh and I never showered together, mostly because the showers at school weren’t nearly big enough.

The entire experience is awkward, but the thing is: I don’t care.

I feel closer to them; I feel like we understand each other a certain way now. I feel privileged to be the only person to have seen them like this. And it feels like an honor that I got to show them so much of myself.

Wyatt showers first, then it’s my turn, and I can’t stop myself from smiling like an idiot. And I don’t really know why. But I don’t mind one bit. I’m glad that Wyatt is still in the bedroom when I get step out, the humid air escaping with me.

“I, uh …” Wyatt hesitates, sitting there on the edge of the bed, talking to me while I crawl under the comforter. “Good night, I guess.”

They stand.

“Where are you going?”

“To the couch,” they say. “To sleep.”

I smile at them. They’re so cute.

Silently, I pat the spot next to me on the bed.

“Are you sure? Like, is that okay?”

“After what we just did? Yeah, it’s okay.”

It only has to be awkward if we let it. There doesn’t have to be this beat between us; we don’t have to let the wall come back up.

At least, I don’t want it to.

Wyatt gives me that grin as they climb into the bed next to me. There’s plenty of space on this king-sized monstrosity, but we still find our way to each other, and I stare into those green eyes.

“That was okay, right?” I ask them.