Chapter 4: Morning
Angel awoke before Collins. Careful not to make a sound, he gathered his clothes and went into the bathroom. There, he changed, brushed his teeth, and washed his face.
Walking back into his bedroom, he found his friend sitting on his unmade bed, still without a shirt.
"Good morning," Angel chirped, giving Collins a look up and down, and a smile.
"Morning," the man muttered, rubbing his neck, "My shoulders are killing me."
"Stiff?" the young man asked, to which a nod was the response. He smiled and plopped down on his bed. "Come here," he said, patting the spot in front of him.
When Collins sat down, Angel began to rub his shoulders. Groaning with pleasure, he let his neck relax and roll forward.
"Feeling better?" Angel laughed, pressing his thumbs into his friend's muscle.
"Yeah," Collins laughed, turning to face his masseuse. His smile dropped, and he set his hand on Angel's knee. "Thanks," he said again, not meaning the massage.
Angel nodded softly. "Of course," he said quietly. He placed his hand over Collins' and gave it a squeeze.
The young anarchist leaned forward, pressing into the soft lips that he'd dreamed about. He soaked in the traces of mint toothpaste lacing Angel's lips. The Hispanic boy breathed in deeply, loving his friend's early-morning scent of sleep. As his tongue began to reach the set of lips, Collins pulled away.
"Um, I have to go," he said, standing. Angel reluctantly nodded.
Collins pulled his shirt over his head, and grabbed his shoes. He didn't even say goodbye before trucking out the door.