Page 75 of The Broposal

Kenny smiled under me. Our faces were so close, but it didn’t seem to bother either of us. I stared at Kenny’s dark eyes, which, I couldn’t help but notice, were staring at my lips. Kenny’s eyes slowly traveled back up to meet mine, but instead of kissing, I burst out laughing, then rolled to my side.

“What?” Kenny asked, but he was laughing now, too.

I just crawled over to my bed, giggling all the way there. Iclimbed up and splayed out on top of the blankets, staring at the ceiling. The next moment, Kenny was cuddled up next to me.

He held up his phone to check the time, and I got a glimpse of his screensaver: a picture of him with his mom.

I didn’t have a single picture of me with my mom to remember her by. Before I knew it, pressure built up behind my eyes, and drunken tears spilled out of them without warning.

“Han?” Kenny tenderly wiped my cheek with his thumb. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head and covered my face with my hands. “No. I’m not allowed to cry about this,” I said, the words muffled behind my hands.

Kenny gently pulled one of my hands away from my face and held it tightly. “About what?”

“My mom!” The words came out in a sob, and more tears fell down the sides of my temples, sliding back down to my hair as I stared at the blurry ceiling.

Kenny squeezed my hand, his voice softer than ever. “Of course you’re allowed to cry about it.”

“Bullshit. I barely knew her. I never called. She tried calling me before she died and I ignored her. I don’t deserve to cry about it,” I said, but despite the words, I just cried harder. It felt good. It hurt, but I needed to get it out. I was glad the alcohol gave me the ability.

“It’s not your fault,” Kenny whispered, his eyes starting to water, too.

After a long moment of silence, Kenny whispered again. “Tell me about her…”

And I did. Through my tears, I told Kenny everything. I told him why I never called my parents. How my mom was barelythere. How she tried to sell me for drugs. How she was the reason I felt like I had to be emotionally distant from everyone I cared about. I told him about the letters and videos I never sent her. How despite everything, I missed her, or at least the idea of what she could have meant to me. Despite everything, I wished she wasn’t dead. And I felt guilty for not feeling as sad as everyone thought I should be.

I rolled to my side and looked into Kenny’s teary face. He wiped his own eyes under his glasses, then cupped my cheeks in his hands and wiped my tears with his thumbs without breaking eye contact. Kenny’s eyes were intense and full of understanding. I closed my own, squeezing out a few stray tears. I wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment. I almost did, but I stopped myself before our lips met.

“How did you know you were bi?” I asked. Anything to change the subject. Kenny looked taken aback.

“Um, I guess I always knew. I mean, before Jackie, lots of my crushes were dudes.”

I was quiet for a while before saying anything. I stared into Kenny’s eyes, which were still misty from me talking about my mom.

“I’m gay,” I blurted out, relieved to finally admit it.

Kenny reached out for my hand and squeezed it. “How long have you known?”

“Since… well… since you. This.” I pointed back and forth between Kenny and myself.

Kenny’s cheeks reddened. “Are you saying…? Do you—”

Before I could overthink it, I closed the gap between our faces and pressed my lips firmly against Kenny’s. He kissed back for a moment. A wonderful, beautiful moment, before pulling away.

“We’re both drunk.” He stated the obvious.

“Do you want to kiss me?” I asked, sure my eyes were just as intense as Kenny’s in the moment.

“Yes.”

“Did you ever want to kiss me sober? For no reason other than that you wanted to? Alcohol, audience, checklist aside, did you ever want to kiss me?”

“Yes.” Kenny barely finished saying the word before pulling me back in for another hungry kiss. I felt his glasses slide down his nose, but neither of us seemed to care. I breathlessly took in the kiss as I gripped the back of his neck with one hand and wrapped the other around his waist, pressing us even closer together, as if we could share one body, one breath. My leg moved in between Kenny’s, and just as I felt his jeans shift as he hardened, I yanked myself away, holding Kenny’s shoulders as I met his confused gaze.

“Am I a bad kisser?” I slurred, sure that I’d ruined the moment, but I was too drunk to care.

“What?” Kenny looked surprised as he adjusted his glasses, but then he smiled. “No, you’re… you’re really good.” I noticed how flushed Kenny’s cheeks were. I wondered if it was the alcohol or the kissing.

---