“I was going to say that if you hadn’t been there and tackled me, then maybe I’d still have my cell phone,” Valentino says, a smile in his voice. He playfully nudges me, and I feel like we’re one millisecond away from wrestling on this air mattress and saying “No homo!” even though we’re both gay. “I’m really glad you were there. That clearly wasn’t my finest hour, but it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“You could’ve lost your wallet too.”

“And my life,” he says, fully serious.

This first day of Death-Cast is so dizzying.

One moment, the Decker whose life I saved has his spirits lifted, and the next, he’s haunted.

Maybe this is the biggest advantage to how life was lived before—you don’t spend any time grieving yourself when you’re not expecting to even die in the first place.

“Seriously, I’m happy you’re alive. I’ll save you as often as I can.”

“Happy,” he echoes.

There’s something sad about the way he says happy.

He could be tired. It’s late as fuck—four o’clock in my body, one o’clock in his. But I think it’s a life exhaustion weighing him down.

“Valentino?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not a fan of your parents. Straight-up. If they can’t meet you where you’re at, that shit is on them. It’s their loss because you’re fucking awesome. If you think you got something to gain by talking to them one last time, I say go for it. But please, please, please only do it for yourself. You don’t owe anything to people who don’t want to see you happy.”

Valentino reaches over and squeezes my arm. “Well, I’m really happy I’ve met you. It’s nice to know my heart is going to a good person.”

“Only good? You called me great before. How can I regain some points?”

“Let me think,” he says.

If Valentino asked for a kiss, he’d find my lips on his so fast.

It’s hard being this close to him and not being with him.