“Where are you? You didn’t come home or text last night and we have to talk.”That seemed strange, my mom was usually pretty chill, and that text...felt weirdly short and abrasive for some reason. I shot her a quick reply telling her I stayed at Dylan’s and forgot to text her, and that I’d be home soon.I went back to looking for my clothes. No luck, but I saw Dylan’s dresser and thought ‘fuck it,’ and walked over to it. I opened the top drawer and pulled out a pair of his clean underwear. It felt. "I guess I wouldn't understand without seeing it," I said.I couldn't believe the transformation that came over his face. In atransition that went through a dozen little changes, he went fromscared and nervous staring into his beer to very bright and smiling ashe looked back into my eyes.***I knocked on the apartment door pretty close to 9 the next Fridaynight. I knew now that I could at least enjoy talking to Andrew andwas not the least concerned that he was some kind of weird fag. Infact, I. More

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