As the party ended, we all sat around the living room, and Mr. G began to plan our sleeping arrangements. And true to form, he made it a big spastic deal, confusing himself and everyone else along the way.

"So, Rafe, do you want to sleep with Ben, or…?"

"Sure." Rafe said, looking at me and smiling.

The conversation continued with him messing up Claire Olivia's parents' sleeping arrangement, and Rafe noticeably cringed every time his dad hummed in confusion. We exchanged eye contact, and we couldn't hold it anymore.

"Well, we're both very, very, tired. So, we're just gonna go." Rafe said, following with a fake yawn. I nodded with him, and he guided me to his old room.

The bed was small. Almost as small as the ones in Natick, but it was enough to fit his lanky frame and my big body.

"I love you so god-damn much." He said, already closing his eyes.

"Me too."

We fell asleep after messing around with our legs, and he hugged me tightly, before falling into deep sleep. I fell asleep later, thinking of all the fantasies I've had with Rafe in class or practice. All the fun I had with him. Then, I thought of the team. What would they think of us? Would we even fit in? What if Steve and Zack found out? I began to feel worried. Remember the question. I thought to myself, before going into deep sleep.

The morning made me feel like myself. Looking at Rafe's cute sleep posture would make anyone feel like themselves. And as I was washing my face, he woke up and hugged me in his bathroom.

After both of us properly woke up, we sat on his bed at my request. This was it. I had to.

"So, I have a question."

"Ask away."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" I asked, looking directly at him to scan for lies. "Claire Olivia told me she knew you were gay. So why didn't you tell me? Or Toby and Albie?"

He hummed, nervously trying to think of an excuse.

"I-I…" He looked down, and grabbed my right hand. "Please don't hate me."

"I won't, just tell me."

"I didn't want to be the gay kid." He explained. "Back here, I was only popular because I was gay." What?! And here I thought he was closeted for the same reason as me! I gripped my right fist tightly, making him swallow some saliva.

"I wouldn't tell anyone, and neither would Toby or Albie. You know Steve and the guys would murder us if someone leaked it out." His face reddened in shame. Liar, liar, face on fire. I wanted to say,

"I know."

"And here I thought you were scared of them. You selfish prick." My thoughts were now just flying out. I couldn't believe the truth.

"I'm sorry." He teared up, looked back at me. "Please, don't leave me."

"I will never, ever." I said to him. "But why? Why did you hide it from me when you knew I was in love?!" I raised my voice in a burst of anger.

His face dropped down like it weighed a hundred tons. I scooched to his side.

"Listen. I will always love you, but you should've just said it to me. I would've understood."

"I know." You knew?! An impulse blew through my head. I need to think. I said to me. "I just didn't want to ruin our friendship. I didn't know that- " As he slowly explained, I jumped out of the bed and stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut.

I walked out of the conversation, leaving him inside to contemplate. Wiping my tears and sweat, I straightened up and headed down to participate in whatever Mr. and Mrs. Goldberg were doing. He lied to me. I thought.He loves me so much. Another part of me said.

Why am I so vulnerable?

"Good morning, Ben." Mr. G said, noticing me stepping down the stairs. "Where's Rafe?"

"Good morning, Mr. G. Rafe's still asleep. I didn't want to bother him." He nodded as I gave him a smile. Good, he didn't notice.

"I think I will go get some fresh air." I said to him, heading out the back door to the backyard.

The backyard still had remnants of yesterday's party. The purple streamers in a pile, the tables still on the grass, the huge WELCOME HOME sign still hanging between the trees. I sat down on the lawn, and blankly stared at the fence surrounding the Goldberg home.

I have to go back. I thought to myself.

Marching back in, through the kitchen, I headed back to where Rafe was, in his room. As I opened the door, there he was, lying on his bed, sobbing into his pillow.

"Rafe, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted at you." I said.

"I'm… sorry…" He said between his sobs. "I should've told you before…"

We headed down together, after he washed his face to remove the evidence of the argument.

With the morning over, Rafe's mother began to cook some vegetarian stuff, along with turkey, which Rafe had requested. His mood had been lifted back up, but throughout the whole day, his face was filled with regret.

Before dinner, Mr. G said it was time for gratitude's. They went around the table in a circle, and told me that we would need to come up with things we are truly grateful for. But there's a catch: If you couldn't think of one in the count of three, you're out. We also couldn't repeat anything that has been said.

"I'm grateful for my wonderful son." Mrs. Goldberg started, smiling at Rafe.

"This trip, my boyfriend, Rafe…" I said.

"Only one," Mr. G admonished. "You'll need to keep some for later."

"Rafe." I smiled at him.

"Ben." He said.

"My snarky son." Mr. G replied. It went on from there, and by round sixteen, it was getting a little weak.

"Oreos." Mrs. G blurted out.

"Gerunds" was mine.

"Lindsay Lohan" was Rafe's

"Pornog.." Mr. G realized what he said, and stopped. We all laughed, and my mother buzzed him.

"You're not just out, you're cut off." She said. "Ok, ready? Tofu."

Me: "Soccer."

Rafe: "Sports cars."

Mrs. G: "Chandeliers."

Me: "Sex."

Rafe: ". . ."

Mrs. G buzzed, signaling Rafe to be out.

"Onions." She continued.

"Agape." I said, looking at Rafe. He smiled, his regret vanishing. An applause followed.

"To agape." Mr. G said.

"To agape." We all echoed, raising our wineglass and drinking to transcendent love.

That night, we stayed up with Rafe's parents to drink some wine. We all got a little woozy, and they started to tell me amusing stories about Rafe as a little kid. Their favorite was about how he'd been horrified by the phrase Hot Dog the first time he heard it.

"Hot. Dog?" he said. 'Hot Dog?'" Mrs. G laughed. "Rafe was traumatized, poor thing. We'd hoped it would turn him into a vegetarian, but it somehow didn't happen." I watched Rafe roll his eyes.

"My dad made me watch him slaughter chickens on the farm." I replied. "To this day, I can't eat a chicken."

Mr. G winced at the image. Soon, it was time to say goodnight. We both hugged Rafe's parents and went upstairs, with me changing into some nice sweatpants and T-shirt. Rafe had put on some thing flannel pajama bottoms and a long underwear top. We returned to his room.

"So much fun." I said, as he closed the door.

"It was, wasn't it?"

I laughed, saying: "That was like, the most fun I've ever had at Thanksgiving. Seriously. Meanwhile, you guys probably have that much fun every year."

"I wouldn't say that." He smiled at me, and we both had a small kiss.

We both got in bed, both of us hanging off our edges. The bed creaked, and we began to do our things. He took off his top, while I took off mine, and we made out, my mind clearing up as we kissed, deep inside our world. Our. World. Even if my father had suddenly burst in, I would've hanged onto him, as we sank into our dreams that had come true.

We settled back down, floating back up to reality.

"If I told my parents I was bi, they would probably throw me out of the house." I said.

"Wow." He replied. His head falling down, probably from the talk we had in the morning. Me and Rafe. I thought. Against the whole world.

"So, we going skiing tomorrow?" I asked.

"Yeah." We were quiet for a while, listening to the sounds of neighborhood dogs barking. Our eyes met each other's gaze, two lovebirds communicating with just our eyes.

"Thanks for bringing me here." I said. We both began to go back to our world. I felt a tingling sensation as his tongue touched mine, once again. It felt like I'd shot to Jupiter, this pulsing rushing feeling from the base of my spine that overtook my body. I was wet.

"Did you like it?" he asked me.

"Yeah, it was, different. Different with Cindy. Sort of alien."

"Totally. This is my first time." He told me.

We looked down, him tenting his pants while mine had a wet stain forming.

"I guess this is eros." He said to me.

"Yes."

I thought of sex. What would it really feel like? How would we do it?

After this, we stared at each other.

"Good night, Rafe." We kissed for the last time. "Love you. I love you so much." I squeezed him a bit, feeling his frame over my arms.

"Me too." Rafe replied.

We went back into sleep, and I dreamt of me and him lying in the fields of New Hampshire, counting the stars. It was wonderful.

"Just follow my tracks, stay forward." Rafe said. "And let your skis do the work. Don't force your turns."

I lowered my goggles over my eyes and shifted my gloves to feel more comfortable.

"Yessir." I said, and we were off.

Rafe had gotten us to Eldora, a ski resort as early as possible, because he wanted to be first for the mountain for the season, he told me. The day after Thanksgiving was their opening day. The quiet of the mountain matched the silence of our car trip there, but the one thing that was different was how serene the trails looked. Untouched, unbothered. That was hardly the way we felt when we were feeling each other while Mr. Goldberg took us to the mountains.

"Nice morning." I said, sipping on some coffee. We were listening to some weird elevator music, and both of us were too into each other to bother.

"Gorgeous." He said.

"Like you. Perfect." I replied, chuckling at each other. Thankfully, Mr. G had been too tired to respond to our flirting. On the plane, we had gotten around to talk about sleeping together after our coming out, but actually doing it felt way harder to deal with.

Rafe took me down the Foxtail trail until it met up with Ho Hum, a beginner trail, which looked wider than the others we saw. It felt strange for me. There had always been inches to feet of snow in New Hampshire and Massachusetts, but being on a mountain, on a pair of skis, wearing goggles and having snow on my brown hair, it felt so refreshing. I looked over to the opposite side of the valley, and I felt free. Free of the tension we had yesterday. Free of the anxiety of returning to Natick, together.

Rafe went down first, traversing the slope easily, making some quick turns and picking up some speed before stopping at a plateau, signifying a stop with a wave of his pole. I left a bit later, and was quite far behind. I made twice the turns he made, traversing the slope with caution. I was attempting to control the skis, pushing them as they turned me around. When I got to him, I was breathing heavily, looking at him, who barely exhaled.

"Show off." I said, between my huffs.

"Sorry." He smiled.

"You're really good at this."

"Yeah, I'm from here." He said.

"I just need to get my legs under me. It's been two years. It's not really like riding a bike, I guess." I said, remembering when I'd ski with my brother, Luke in the Appalachian Mountains.

"Don't worry. We're just here to have fun."

I shifted my body a bit. "Other than petrifying, it's pretty nice. Our mountains aren't quite this tall." I said, peering to the edge of the massive range.

"Your hills."

"Whatever. They're not quite this imposing."

We finally got a rhythm going after a few tries, he would slow down and take wider turns while I didn't work so hard to keep up. I wasn't as good as Rafe, but I was having fun.

On the first chairlift to the top, Rafe said something to me.

"My mom has a saying when we ski." He said, "She always says: Lean forward, and head down the mountain. I love that. It's true, right? About life?"

"Interesting." I answered. "What do you think lean forward means?"

"It means to be unafraid." He said, as I thought back to when we were in the plane. "Lean into the challenges, don't lean back. I don't always do it, but I love it."

"Lean forward and head down the mountain. I like that." I said, a warm smile appearing as we began to approach for a kiss.

He inhaled in the fresh air, feeling relieved after our small smooch.

"I'm glad we did this." Rafe said. "I'm glad you came."

"You wish I came." I said to him.

He flushed pink. "Did you just make a sexual joke?"

I grinned.

"You're such a dick."

"Are you trying to make me another one?" I said, both of us laughing. He smacked me in the goggles, which were resting on my forehead, and we both subconsciously said I love you.

The next run was better. I actually felt like I was flying, as I began to get the hang of it. I could see that Rafe was also relaxed. He had an elegance to his skiing. And I began to have one too, shifting my weight to make turns, and letting my legs and skis do the work for me.

"Thanks for bringing me here. I love seeing where you're from." I said, on the next ski lift.

"Thanks," he said, "Maybe you can take me to New Hampshire next."

I made a slitting throat animation before shaking my head slowly.

"Are you sure you aren't adopted?" He said after a laugh.

"If it weren't my uncle, I wouldn't be sure of anything."

"What was he like?"

"He was basically the black sheep of the family. Went to college, travelled the world, never married. When my parents talked about him, there was always something in their tone, like he wasn't quite right. When he stayed with us, we'd talk about everything." I looked down, as my eyes began to go watery.

"He was the one person who made me think of a possibility with someone like you. And made me realize it was possible to do more than, you know, farming and working on the fields. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"He sounds amazing."

"He was."

"Your parents are proud of you." He said to me, after a few seconds of silence.

I didn't react. I only thought about the inevitability of confronting them with Rafe.

"They are. They just don't know how to say it." I replied, hiding my constant anxiety thinking of them. We spent the rest of the ride in silence. I could feel him and his feeling on me. I squeezed his hand with mine, and he squeezed back. We silently communicated as we reached the zenith. I tucked the poles on my lap and adjusted my had and goggles, while he grabbed the poles. He motioned and I lifted his skis of the footrest. It was so easy, communicating with Rafe.

The lift reached the plateau, and we raised our ski tips just before they made contact with the smooth, crisp snow. Then we stood and let mass do the work, gliding down the slope together.