The Test Subject

He hands my phone back to me. He added himself as a new contact.

He goes on, "What happened tonight is over but other things can be just the beginning. The choice is yours. The ball is in your court. You can delete me from your phone and from your mind and just walk away. I don't know your name and I have no way to find you or contact you. Or, you can text me. If you text me, I'll have your number. If you text me, we can make plans to meet up again next Friday night, but this time, for pizza. And to talk. And who knows what might come next. But it's all up to you."

I say, "How ticklish are you?"

Another grin, "I might be willing to let you find out."

I grin back, "I might also like to discover whether or not I have an aptitude for giving tantric massages."

Now he snorts, "Maybe not on a first date."

"Wait," I pretend to be serious, "You're not the outie, are you?"

"Huh?"

"Keegan's belly button survey. One of the five of you has an outie. Is it you?" I'm just messing with him. I already know it's not from the time I saw him lift his shirt after that long run.

He laughs, "No worries. I'm an innie all the way."

"Whew!"

I tap at my phone and his phone pings. He pulls it from his pocket, glances at the screen and smiles. "It's nice to meet you, Brandon."

We shake hands. I say, "I know it's almost midnight, but I know a pizza place just a couple blocks from here that's still open. I've kind of worked up an appetite."

"Me too," he grins again.

We start toward the sidewalk, but he stops. He turns to me and places his hands on my hips. He pulls me against him and he kisses me. Long and deep and my toes curl in my well-worn sneakers. One of my hands rubs circles in his back while the other entangles in his hair that I've been dying to touch for months. When we break apart, he takes my hand. He says, "At best, I'm the second cutest guy on campus."