Things are still a little awkward when we head back inside. I’m still in this space that I’m unsure of, that I don’t know if I’m welcome in. Even if Wyatt and I are repairing things, it’s still weird to be a boyfriend in your boyfriend’s parents’ house for the first time. Especially when you showed up on their porch twelve hours ago.

And if this goes any further, we need to have a conversation about how Wyatt wants to identify, because I don’t know how they feel about the word boyfriend.

Not that Wyatt and I are boyfriends. Not yet. We’re taking it slow.

Slow.

Not boyfriends yet. Just …

I don’t even know what you’d call us.

When we get back inside, their mama asks them for help with something, no doubt something she could probably do on her own. She probably just wants to grill her child. But that gives Lana ample time with me.

“Can I show you my room?” she asks when I go to hide in the living room to give the two of them some privacy. Except Lana’s question isn’t exactly a question. She just takes my hand and leads me up the stairs to her room. It’s painted this soft pink, with a bookshelf filled with picture books, butterflies on her bed and painted on her walls, a big Barbie dollhouse with a few dolls sitting inside, some clothes and blankets strewn on the floor.

“And this is my unicorn.” Lana shows me. “She poops slime.”

“Why would you want a toy that poops?” I stare at the neon-colored plastic unicorn. Sure enough, when Lana feeds the unicorn this little packet of powder and presses down on its stomach a bunch of times, the unicorn poops out neon-green slime in my hands. “Lana, this is disgusting.”

“Is not, it’s slime!”

“Your toy pooped in my hand.” I show her the evidence.

“And this is my favorite teddy bear.” She moves on, leaving me to deal with the slime in my hands. At least it’s mostly solid.

God, I hate that I had that thought.

“This used to be Wyatt’s, but he gave it to me.” I can see how the fur seems faded, and there’s familiar red stitching on the leg left from a repair job. I wonder if Wyatt fixed it themself.

“That’s sweet,” I say. I grab an empty plastic container from the floor, leaving the slime in there and wiping the residue off my hands.

“Are you and Wyatt boyfriends?” she asks bluntly.

Got to love how kids have no filter.

“I don’t really know,” I tell her. She hands me the teddy bear.

“You should get married; I want another brother. Because if you get married, then you’d be my brother.”

I laugh. “I’ll get started on the wedding planning.”