Jeremy's POV
"I-I said I love you," I repeated.

This was a mistake. He probably doesn't even like me like that anymore. Did he ever like me that way? Will he ever? He probably has a thing for Rich. I mean, not gonna lie, Rich is cute. But not like Michael cute.

Michael is so cute. And handsome. And hot. I could get lost in his eyes. Correction: I totally have gotten lost in his eyes.

If my Squip was still here, he'd probably zap me in the balls.

Micha's voice brings me back to reality.

"Uh, I love you too Jeremy," he says, confused, "You're my best friend."

Go figure.

"Okay thanks, uh, bye Michael!"

I pull the phone away from my ear, in an attempt to hang up.

"Wait! Wait! Jeremy!"

I consider ending the call. I could tell him I didn't hear him. But a part of me wants to finish what I started.

Here we go.

"Yeah, Michael?"

"Oh, thank God. Hi. Is that it?"

He is silent, awaiting my response. But words aren't coming out of my mouth
anytime soon.

"Jer?" he says softly, "Is that all you wanted to tell me?

"N-no," I begin, "that's n-not all I have to s-say."

There is a pause before he speaks up again.

"Jeremy, you can tell me anything."

Isn't that what I told him before he came out to me?

"I know, Micha. I know."

Crap. Maybe this is what he felt like before he spoke up. Same anxiety, same feeling, a best friend of 12 years. He faced his fear, came out, and then fricking kissed me. How in hell did he have the guts to do that?

"It's okay, you can tell me," he coaxes, "I mean, if you want. It's up to you."

"Okay," I whisper, but gaining confidence, "Okay. You're my best friend. I love you. But also I also kind of love you. Like 'love you love you'. I don't know for how long. And then you kissed me. I think that was the first time I realized it. You know, that there was something there. Something between us. I just think...I...I don't know."

The other end goes quiet again.

"Uh, wow, Jer. That's....that's a lot."

"I know. I'm sorry...I...I just...I needed....you needed to know. I think."

The other end goes dead. I knew it. He hung up on me.

"D-do you wanna g-go somewhere?" Michael asks.

Oh. Oh!

I must've not spoken up early enough because he keeps talking.

"Just the two of us," he continues, "We haven't r-really gone somewhere i-in awhile y-you know?"

Anxiety can go screw itself. Jeremy-fricking-Heere is doing this.

"Um, uh, yeah. I mean, of course, Micha. I'd love to go somewhere with you."

"I-I can pick you up? In, uh, fifteen minutes?" He offers.

"Uh, y-yeah. That's good. I-I would pick you up but, my dad has the car at work. So, um, uh, anyway, I'll be waiting outside for you. Bye, Micha."

"See you soon, Jer Bear."

"Bye!"

He hangs up, and I follow suit.

I stare at my hands. They're visibly shaking. From excitement or nerves, I don't know. I think it's both.

Wait...Did he just call me 'Jer Bear'?

Probably not.

Maybe.

I think he did.

I make a mad dash to the bathroom to fix myself up.

Michael's POV

Wow.

Wow.

That....just happened.

Wow.

He...likes me? Like that?

This is too real.

Too real, that there's no way it's real.

Jeremy likes me. We're going out to dinner.

Is this a date?

No, we have to be dating for it to be a date.

We're just hanging out.

Just two guys, going out to dinner, followed by a mad make out session.

Huh. Maybe not that last part.

But it's on a date. Like today's date is the 9th.

So it's technically a date.

But we have to be dating for it to be a date.

Are we dating?!

I don't...I...he...we...I...I have to get moving!

I glance in the mirror. I could probably look nicer than this.

I spring out of bed and run to my closet. The jeans go off, replaced by a slightly nicer pair of jeans. Nothing too special, it's just the old arcade.

But it's not just Jeremy.

It's Jeremy-Hot-as-Hell-Heere.

My red sweatshirt is still on, and I decide I'm okay with that.
It's kind of like a security blanket for me. Except it's a security blanket you can wear. Revolutionary, isn't it?

I run to the bathroom. I comb my hair to one side, and then add a little bit of gel. It doesn't look too bad.

I pick up the pencil and carefully give my self a little bit of eyeliner. Just enough. I step back from the mirror.

Good.

I smile. I actually like the way I look. Maybe because it really is just Jeremy.

The Jeremy I've known all my life. The Jer who will make fun of me forever, but freak out if my feelings are hurt. The Jeremy who will put pride and "no-homos" aside and cuddle with his best friend, and not regret it after.

The Jeremy I will always love, in one way or another.

Jeremy's POV

I step outside my house, locking the door as I go. I sit on the front step, my knees pulled up to my chest. It is freezing.

I'm about to run inside to get a jacket, when a P.T Cruiser drives onto the block.

Frick.

Michael pulls onto my driveway, giving me a little wave and a nervous smile.

I return both.

He stops the car, and I cross over to the passenger door. I open it up, and climb in.

"Hi, Jeremy," he says casually.

"Hi, Michael," I respond, seatbelt fastened.

"You ready?"

"Sure."

We roll out of the driveway.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, before I finally speak up.

"So, uh, I'm bi. Surprise!" I giggle nervously.

He relaxes and laughs along with me.

"A surprise for me or a surprise for you?" He questions playfully.

I chuckle. "Probably more for me than for you."

We both grin, the tension lifted a bit.

Nobody talks, but it's not awkward. It's just that nice kind of quiet.

I look at Michael, and notice he has eyeliner on. A few months ago, my squip would probably make me feel embarrassed and ashamed to be seen with a guy who wears eyeliner. But now, staring at him, I'm not embarrassed at all. He looks really good.

"So....where are we going?" I ask, excited.

"Nowhere special," Michael responds.

"Oh come on, Micha. As long as I'm with you, anywhere I go is special."

He giggles, pleased. "Aww. Thanks, Jeremy."

We're on the freeway now. Michael is comfortable driving enough that he takes one hand off the wheel and rests it on the center console between our seats.

Should I?

Michael's POV

In my peripheral vision I see Jeremy staring at my hand.

Does he...want to hold it?

Probably not.

I don't want to read the signals wrong.

Maybe...maybe next time.

It's time to get off the freeway anyway. I place both hands back on the wheel and drift left.

"I think I know where we're going!" He shouts gleefully.

"Do you, now?" I challenge.

"Mmmhhmm."

"If you say so, Jer."

"I do say so, Micha."

I pull into the parking lot of our favorite arcade. It's been about a year since we've gone though. We've just been a little off, you know, with the whole squip thing.

"Ha! I knew it, Mike!"

Jeremy's POV

Michael freezes.

"Are you oka-" I start to ask.

Mike. I called him Mike.

This has happened maybe once or twice before. It's scary.

He just...stops.

Time pauses for him, he goes rigid, and it takes a little time to get him out of it.

He's never told me why. I wish I knew. Maybe I could help.

Michael's POV

An old memory quickly resurfaces, engulfing me in its vividness.

I am seven, and sitting on the floor of my brother's room.

"I want a nickname only you can use," I tell him.

"Why?" He asks.

"I don't know."

"Uh, okay. Um, how about...Mickey?"

"Mama calls me that."

"Michelangelo?"

"What language was that?"

"Michaela?"

"That's even longer than Michael!"

"Alex?"

"What does that even have to do with my name?"

"Mike?"

"Mike," I agree.

It was settled. No one but my brother was allowed to call me that.

Not even my best friend. Because that name was only for my brother to call me. And so what if he can never call me that again because he's gone, that name is for him to use and—

"M-Michael?" Jeremy stutters.

A hand softly touches mine.

I pull it away instinctively, but Jeremy follows it and gently grabs it.

I wince, but for some reason I don't try to escape his grasp.

He repositions his hand so it envelopes around mine, and my heartbeat slows for a second.

The car is quiet, except for Jeremy's breathing and the sound of my heart in my head.

His breathing is slow, and calm. I try to match it.

Our chests rise and fall together. I squeeze his hand slightly, an unnoticed tear slipping down my cheek.

We sit there, hand in hand, for what feels like twenty minutes before I ask if Jeremy still want to go in.

"Only if you do, Micha."

I nod slightly. "I do."

We let go of each other's hands, and I instantly want the warmth of his touch back.

We get out of the car and walk towards the arcade. I sling my arm around his shoulder, and he does the same for me. It looks platonic, and maybe it is. But it doesn't matter. As long as he's here with me.

"Are you hungry?" I ask as we enter the building.

"A little."

"You want some totally not greasy not four-month-old awesome arcade pizza?" I ask, half joking, half serious.

"I'd love some," he laughs.

We cross through the arcade and find a booth without that many people around. The table in between the seats is small, allowing for a couple to easily lean over and kiss. Not that I was thinking that.

He plops down across from me.

Someone asks me what we want to drink. Without saying anything, we come to the agreement to share a milkshake, just like old times.

When I look up at who's waiting on us, I see Christine, laughing proudly.

"I don't work here!" She giggles, and then (because I know she can't help herself) she continues, "Or do I mean Heere?"

Jeremy's face got really red really fast. Was it the joke, was he embarrassed or maybe something else—?

"Hi, Christine," he pipes up, his tone full of embarrassment.

"Oh, don't be too hard on yourself. I do make a pretty convincing waitress, don't you think?" She winks and laughs.

Thank God I didn't hate her, because Christine was just...so hard to dislike. I mean, despite the fact that I'm more of a guy kinda guy, I can see why Jeremy had eyes for her. You just want to boop her on the nose (if she didn't boop you first).

"Well," she continues, a bright look on her face, "I'll let you two lovebirds enjoy your meal. Oh! And I'll call over an actual worker to get your order."

Jeremy blushes even harder as he drags his impossibly soft hand through his caramel hair, which was perfectly messy. I glance over his eyes, his eyelashes dancing as he looks around. And then I see his lips.

I mean, I've seen his lips before, but not like, seen them seen them. It was a whole new perspective, knowing that there was a real chance I could kiss them. But for real this time, with no regrets from either of us. And it's not that I haven't kissed someone before, I definitely have. It's just that I haven't kissed him. The real him. And I think Jeremy's lips will be a lot better than (a drunken prom-night) Rich's from a few years back.

But I don't want to think about Rich. I'm too busy taking in the beautiful boy in front of me. I want to run my hands through his hair, and just breath him in. And smell his shampoo. Is that weird?

Yeah, that's a little weird. But I mean, what can I say? Am I not supposed to stare at the adorable boy in front of me and not think about the things we could do together?

Jeremy's POV

Michael is was staring at me. Actually, he's more than staring at me; he is taking me in, like I am something amazing, like the Grand Canyon or a new video game. And I can't just pull out my phone and Google "What does it mean if someone is staring at you like they want to kiss you?" Because I'm pretty sure the answer would be crystal clear.

My gaze flickers up to his oak-colored eyes, and then we don't just look at each other; we see each other. It has been said that eye contact can make it feel like someone can see into your soul. But I feel so much more than that. It's like we are both opening up; letting go a little bit, and trusting in each other.

He tilts his head a little bit to the side, his hair shifting, his lips parting ever so slightly. He leans forward, moving carefully, his eyelids closing slowly, a thought on his mind I'm sure we've both fantasized about more often than we'd care to admit. I am so memorized by this boy that I almost forget that he's planning on kissing someone. And that someone is me.

Before I know it, I'm being pulled to Michael. It's like an unknown force is pulling us together; I can't stop leaning towards him. His thumb lightly caresses my cheek, and we both pause. The world pauses. It's just him and me. The already distant sounds of the arcade fade to silence, and I can only hear Michael's breath against mine.

And then at the same moment, we hit play. The inches between us become centimeters, and then millimeters, and then—The tenderness of his lips, his fingers gently moving through my hair, the light press of his foot on mine from underneath the table. Warmth spreading through my body, making everything tingle.

Michael gently fondles my ear, and I realize I should probably be doing something with my hands. I put my right hand on his, and my other on his knee. I feel him smile against my lips, and I smile back. We pull away slowly. As much as I'd love more of this, we both know that even if our booth is a bit secluded, it's still a public place.

I move my hand from his knee to the table, where he grabs it and holds it. We sit there, giggling a little every once in a while, high on the happiness that encapsulated us.

Michael's POV

That is better than I could've ever imagined it. And trust me, I have imagined that a lot. I feel so light, without a care in the world. It's so cliche. But cliches exist for a reason.

The waiter whom we had been expecting has finally shown. I would look up at them, but I'm too busy getting lost in the eyes of the boy across from me. I'm so focused on him, I can see how instantaneously his mood shifts. I study him, worried, wondering what has him so panicked.

He finally croaks out one word.

"D-Dad?"

A/N: ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER?!?!

Anyway, #plotdevelopment lmao

Also, my own writing development!! I don't know if you noticed, but the characters GOT OUT OF A CAR WIHOUT A TIME SKIP and I think this kiss was written a little better than the first one tbh

I tried to outline, and I ended up with something about 87% different than what I had written originally. And for the angst thing I posted about, it was the Mike thing, that's it. If it seems half hearted that's mostly bc I didn't want it there but then it became important in chapter development.

JUST A WARNING:
I do not plan to have this book go on forever. As much as I love reading books that are 30 parts long, I am kind of unable to write them. But don't fear; I've had an idea brewing for months now that could be good, provided I do it right.