Steve is talking. No music. Nobody next door doing the hootchie-coo. [Please note: the author has never done such a dance and bears no responsibility to anyone over 40 trying said dance.]
Our theme song for this day:
“Do you have any idea how fucking lucky your are? I bet every single boy in your class would give his balls and cock to have what you have.”
I’m chagrined. I’m doing something wrong and better listen up.
“I saw the way she looked at you. And I saw the way you looked at her. I’d bet Doug saw it, too. You are in fucking love. Don’t overthink it. It’s too late to sit down and act like you’re Einstein facing a mystery of science.”
“But I–“
“Shut up. Yes, it’s scary, fucking scary. And yes, it’s been quick. I don’t have an answer. Through chance, luck, whatever the fuck you want to call it, you two have joined together and want to share time with each other. Now you know what us older boys find out eventually. Everyone wants a piece of ass, T in our fingers, spread legs, but now you know: what will always win is a need to be in someone’s arms who just wants to hold you and kiss you.”
“Steve, why do I hurt?”
“I’ll say it again–only you could hang up like this!! It’s scary. But you are in way too deep now. Take deep breaths, and don’t change a thing. And don’t try asking her. She has no idea and she’s probably twice as scared.
“And yeah, I’ve been there. Don’t think about tomorrow, you’ll fuck up today. And one day, if you’re lucky, she will open her blouse for you and you will know that she truly cares for you………..and you deserve it.”
He smiles without a trace of lasciviousness. “Next weekend, I’ll give you a boost……..Sarah and I will take you two to Pizza Hut with us.”
Wow, God bless the day this guy moved in.