Russell couldn't believe what he had done the previous night. Sure, he had planned on getting somewhere with Sal, but he didn't think it would actually happen.

Although he wasn't sure what to do about him anymore. Sal had declared his love for him, and made out with him. But then he shoved him away like it meant nothing. Like he was disgusted.

Sal couldn't have been too disgusted though, because he woke him up with a kiss, and was now asking the stupidest question of all time.

"You really like me?" Sal asked. "In that way?"

"Yes, I really like you in that way." Russell picked at the bowl of cereal in his hand. The two were still in their pajamas, sitting on the bedroom floor. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"It happened so fast," Sal said. "You came over uninterested and by the end of the night, you couldn't keep your hands off me."

"I wasn't uninterested. You just can't take a hint."

"Like you can." Sal shoved a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

"I knew about your little crush long before last night."

Sal narrowed his eyes. "How?"

"You're obvious, that's how. I always thought it was cute."

"Cute?" Sal clinked his spoon against the bowl. "There is nothing cute about me."

"Fine. Adorable." Russell set his hand on Sal's knee, which felt about as scrawny as his arm.

"Does this make us boyfriends now?" Sal asked.

Russell watched him set his cereal bowl aside. Dating Sal would be an interesting experience, and he really could use the stress relief. Plus he had a feeling Sal associated making out with exclusive dating. And Russell longed to make out with him again, among other things. "If that's what you want."

At those words, Sal tackled him in a hug, burying his face in his chest. "It's all I've ever wanted these past couple months."

"Good to know you don't want much." Russell kissed the top of his head. "I hate to tell you this, but my parents want me home in, like, 20 minutes."

Sal released his hold on Russell and glanced over at his clock. "It's only 12. Who leaves a sleepover this early?"

"Someone with parents who set strict boundaries. They're upset enough that I'm missing church for this."

"I thought you were going to tell them you were going to St. Whoever's with me?"

And Russell almost had. He knew his parents would make a big deal over him missing church for a sleepover with a friend they didn't care for. And they did. But before Russell could put a word in, they reluctantly agreed to letting him stay over. "I almost did, but my parents agreed before I could say anything. Which is probably a good thing, because they could end up going there today just to see me and meet your foster parents."

"Who would even do that?"

"My parents." Russell leaned the back of his head against the wall, letting out a sigh. "There's a few things you should know about them."

"I think I know more than enough about them."

"We haven't even scraped the surface." Russell didn't even know where to begin with them. "They're strict."

"I've already guessed that much," Sal said.

"I get yelled at for being late, or whenever I make a mistake."

Sal nodded. "We covered that part last night."

"They're really, really religious."

"Nothing wrong with faith."

"There is when it affects the rights of others," Russell said. Sal tilted his head questioningly. "They're homophobic. If they knew about this..."

"Maybe they'd accept it."

If only. But Russell could never forget his first crush. A boy in his fourth grade class. And his feelings confused him to the point where he asked his mother if boys could like boys. She said they could, but it was disgusting and shameful. A sin people went to Hell for. "That's not a risk I'm willing to take."

"Don't worry," Sal said, putting his hand over Russell's. "I have no intention of telling a single soul about us, much less your parents."

"That's all I ask." Russell fiddled with his empty cereal bowl, glancing nervously at the clock. He could already hear his parents nagging him for showing up late. "I really should get going."

"Do you have to leave so soon?" Sal asked, returning to his cereal.

Russell gazed at Sal with a strong urge to make out with him again. "I guess I can be one minute late, because you're so fun to kiss." He stood up and set his bowl on the dresser, giving Sal a flirty smile. "Since we're boyfriends now, am I allowed to change in front of you?"

Sal pointed his spoon at him. "As my boyfriend, you are never allowed to change in front of me."

Now that was weird. And it reminded him of how disgusted he had been the previous night. Why wouldn't he want the rare chance to see him in his underwear? "Is there a reason why?"

"I just don't!"

Russell backed away at his angry, defensive voice. "Okay, I'll change in the bathroom then."

"Thank you."

* * * * *

After Russell had left, Sal tried processing everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. A boyfriend. He had managed to win over the hottest boy in school. Hottest next to himself, anyway. School the next day would be interesting. He hoped he could go back to picking on Russell. It was his favorite part of English class, especially when Russell would tease him back. Sal rubbed his jawline. Was their teasing a form of flirting? He never understood flirting, but he had heard of sexual tension between two people who constantly bickered. Maybe Brad had a point about them.

Later that night, Sal was ready to pull up a search engine for flirting advice when his phone chimed. He looked around his desk for it, and found it sticking out from under Mouser.

"Mouser, I need that." But Mouser just meowed. Sal grabbed the edge of the phone, tugging it out from under the cat, and checked it. It turned out being a text from Russell.

Hey.

"Hey? His first real text to me, and all he has to say is 'hey?'"

Mouser, who hadn't budged from his spot, meowed again.

Sal nodded. "Good point. This is probably nerve-wracking for him."

"Mrow."

"Mrow indeed. I should make this even more nerve-wracking." He tapped to respond.

Yo sexy boi

Did you just call me a sexy boi?

Damn right. Mrow

I've got something sexy for you. ;)

"Oh God Mouser, my plan is backfiring." Sal tossed his phone aside. "This is way more nerve-wracking for me than it is for him!"

His phone chimed. Sal picked it back up, hoping Russell hadn't sent him anything too inappropriate. He opened the text. Russell had sent him a selfie. Fully-clothed. "Thank God."

Sal set the picture as his phone's background. After kissing his phone's screen, he took a picture of Mouser and sent it to Russell. He would've taken a picture of himself, but he wasn't wearing a shirt and didn't feel like putting one on. His phone chimed.

Cute. Where's one of you?

"Now what do I do?" Sal asked Mouser.

"Mrow," Mouser meowed.

I don't feel like putting my shirt on so I can't take one.

Hawt. Are you wearing pants?

Yes

Darn.

Sal glanced at Mouser, who yawned. "It appears I have disappointed him." He thought for a moment. "Dare I?" he asked Mouser, who answered by chewing the underside of his paw. "I'll take that as a yes."

Sal stood up and walked over towards the empty wall space next to his dresser. He stretched his left arm out on top of the dresser, pressing the side of his body against it. With his right hand, he held his phone out as far as possible, and forced what he hoped was a seductive smile. He snapped a picture of himself, in all of his shirtless glory.

"I never do this kind of thing," Sal said to Mouser, after sending the picture to Russell. "I hope there will be no repercussions for this action in the future." His phone chimed again.

Dang! We haven't even been together for a day, and already you're sending me dirty pictures.

Sal's face heated. "What have I done? How do I even respond?" The phone chimed again.

I wish I was that dresser. I'd love to have your half-naked body pressed up against me like that.

Sal covered his mouth. "Oh God, I'm half-naked. I did not think this through." Another chime.

I'll have to send you one.

Sal groaned, and texted back.

Please don't I saw more than enough of you last night

You haven't seen nothing.

Good let's keep it that way

Sal tossed his phone aside, rubbing his temples. "Is this what couples are supposed to do?" he asked Mouser. "I liked it better when we were making fun of each other." His phone chimed again.

You're terrible at sexting.

And your terrible at swearing. Who over the age of 7 says darn?

At least I know the difference between your and you're. The apostrophe is there to combine you and are. Your is possessive. Get it right, moron.

Sal grinned at his phone. "That's more like it!"