Swing for the Fences
by Little Buddha
Chapter 21
Sunday morning.
It felt like the weekend had evaporated in a blink. Too fast. Way too fast. Not nearly enough time to process everything that had happened – everything I was feeling. And I was feeling a lot. A lot .
I lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, Jack still asleep beside me, his breath soft and even. My chest was tight with something I couldn't quite name – maybe joy, maybe panic. Probably both. Part of me wanted to wake him just to kiss him again, to confirm that last night had really happened. That it hadn't been a dream, that I had actually done it – leaned in, kissed him, let it happen. I couldn't believe that I'd taken the initiative! Jack had been like putty in my hands, practically purring like a kitten every time our tongues brushed together inside his mouth.
But now that I'd kissed him… I couldn't stop thinking about how long I'd waited, and how I just wanted to kiss him more .
I did regret it, though – waiting. We could have been kissing all along. All those nights lying side by side, tangled up under the covers, breathing the same air, hearts beating in sync. I'd wasted too much time being a drama queen . Time I couldn't get back.
And the kiss itself?
It felt… different. Realer than real. Jack's lips were soft and certain, but there was something under the surface – something eager and desperate and tender all at once. And yeah, okay… I hated to admit it, but Noah had been a good kisser. A really good kisser. Every time he leaned in, it made me feel like my brain had been scooped out with a spoon. Like I had no thoughts left in my head except yes .
But Jack?
Jack was just… on another level. It wasn't only physical—it was everything. When we kissed, I didn't feel like I was falling into someone else. I felt like I was coming home. Jack wasn't Noah. Not even close. And thank God for that. Maybe it was because Jack actually felt something for me – because he cared – and not just because he wanted to get into my pants.
Then it hit me: Jack had never kissed anyone before. Never. And still, in my very limited experience (Noah—ugh), he was already an excellent kisser. Sure, we bumped noses once or twice, and there was some awkward fumbling, but the way he leaned into it, the way he held me – it felt so natural, like he'd been waiting his whole life to figure it out. Sweet and a little clumsy, but in the best way.
And yeah, there were definitely a few things he could stand to practice. But honestly? I wasn't worried about that. We'd have plenty of time… and plenty of excuses… to work on it together. Practice never sounded so good.
We got up a little late, took showers (still separate, of course), and got dressed slowly, like we were dragging our heels against the inevitable. The snow was already beginning to melt outside, sloshing into slush on the sidewalks, like even the weather was reluctantly pulling us back to reality.
As we climbed the stairs from the basement, still towel-drying our hair and half-zipped into our jackets, my mom called out from the kitchen.
"Boys. Have a seat," she said, gesturing toward the loveseat in the family room.
The love seat. I tried not to groan at the irony.
"Okay," I said casually. "So, I assume you're about to tell us we have to take the bus back to school since you've got a shift later?"
But then she gave me that look. That slight tilt of the head, one eyebrow raised like she was bracing for impact.
"What I said ," she replied slowly, "was: we need to have a little sex talk."
I blinked. Jack, without a word, grabbed the Afghan from the back of the sofa and pulled it over his entire head like a turtle retreating into its shell.
"Nope," I said, standing up immediately, trying to channel my inner Jonah. " I OBJECT! "
"Sit, Nicholas."
"Yes, ma'am." I dropped back onto the loveseat like my spine had evaporated.
Jack remained curled in his woven cocoon, hiding from God and everyone.
My mom sighed – clearly exhausted, clearly not thrilled about this either, but trying to summon her Responsible Adult energy.
"Look," she said, rubbing her temples. "I know teenage boys. You're basically just hormones with legs. And if you haven't done it already, eventually… you will."
"MOM!" I practically shrieked. " We're not having sex! We haven't even talked about it! We didn't even have our first kiss until last night."
"But if you stay together for a while, you will ," she replied coolly. "At some point. And I'm not here to judge you. But you do need to be smart about it."
"IT IS THE CASE, MOTHER," I said, voice rising. "I SWEAR TO GOD."
From underneath the Afghan, Jack mumbled, "And it's not like one of us is gonna get pregnant…"
My mom gave a patient nod. "No, you won't. But there are still diseases. Which is why – no matter what – you always need to wrap it up."
Both of us groaned in unison.
She continued, unmoved by our theatrical pain. "Even if you're both virgins now – and I'm not asking! – You won't always be. And when it comes to your physical health, you don't just take someone's word for it. You ask. You get tested. You protect yourselves. Period."
Then, to our absolute horror, she reached into her medical bag and pulled out a small stack of brochures – fan-folded, color-coded, and laminated.
BROCHURES.
Jack let out a muffled scream under the blanket.
"Herpes?" I read out loud in disgust. "Gonorrhea? GENITAL WARTS?! "
"HIV is still out there, too," she said, handing me a pamphlet with a photo of a smiling gay couple, both wearing white button-downs and holding coffee mugs. "Cute guys, huh?"
"WHY ARE THEY SO HAPPY?" I cried, tossing it onto the pile like it was radioactive.
"They've got amazing new treatments now—people can live long, healthy, totally normal lives. HIV's manageable, almost like diabetes. But it's still something you really don't want to get. All it takes is slipping up with your meds once, and the virus can develop resistance, and suddenly, you're back at square one. It's nothing to take lightly, and yeah, I worry. But if you stick with one partner, and you're careful—use condoms—you should both be fine. And later, when you're a little older, we'll talk about something called PreP, but not for a few more years."
And then I noticed something I didn't see that often, a few tears trickling down her face. "Sometimes I really wish your father were here to help me deal with this kind of stuff. I can't believe I'm having this talk with my fifteen-year-old son. It's just too soon …"
It made me really sad, too, but I didn't know what to say, for fear of upsetting her more.
"But Mom," I said, calmer now, "I swear – we're not having sex, and we're not going to anytime soon. Neither of us is ready for that. Last night was literally just our first kiss. I've always been a good kid, I make smart choices – well, except for Noah – and you know that. So please, trust me. And trust Jack, too. He's not pressuring me; he's not like that. We're really nowhere near ready for anything like that, and I don't want you worrying yourself sick over it. Just… believe me , okay?"
When she was finally finished and stood up, she looked at us both and said gently, "I know this was awkward. Trust me – it was awkward for me too. But I love you both. And I'm proud of you. I just can't stand seeing my baby grow up so fast. It seems like just yesterday that I was giving you baths in the sink, cleaning up your alien-colored poopies, and praying to God that I would do this 'mom thing' alright. Just be smart, guys, okay?"
We nodded like scared children.
"And yes, I guess it is good that I don't have to worry about having grandbabies while I'm still just in my early forties," she sighed.
"You don't look a day over thirty-two!" Jack piped up from underneath his Afghan cocoon.
But how could she know about the kiss? We only kissed for the first time last night! Was she hiding in one of the air ducts like a ninja? And why would she assume we were having sex already? I was completely baffled … and embarrassed … and humiliated. And I was ready to get back to Harrison West and as far away from this conversation as possible … and so that Jack and I could continue kissing with more peace of mind.
"Oh, and I saw you kissing when I went downstairs to check the thermostat, so you're not freaking out and wondering if I have some sort of mystical 'mom powers'," she said, rolling her eyes.
Well, that was somewhat of a relief to know.
"Oh," she continued. "I went ahead and packed some condoms in your duffel bag. Use them and protect each other now that you're boyfriends and could potentially be sexually active."
Uh, no. Just no. First of all, we were not boyfriends … yet. We had yet to have that whole conversation. Now it sounded like my mom was actually pressuring us to have sex! Just then, I decided to let her have her "thing," so she could feel like she was still protecting me, now that I was living so far away. I guessed it was just her way of coping and trying to control what little she could even more. It was embarrassing as hell, yes, but it wouldn't kill us. I reached my hand under the Afghan and squeezed Jack's hand tightly to let him know that everything was going to be okay.
On the bright side, though, she didn't say anything that sounded like "no more sleepovers" or "you need to switch rooms at school now that you're together." That was somewhat of a relief.
"Now go pack your things. I'll drive you back after lunch."
And just like that, we were dismissed. Emotionally traumatized. Deeply humbled. Armed with literature.
Jack didn't speak for a solid five minutes as we walked back to my room to pack our stuff. We didn't look at each other. We didn't have to.
Finally, he muttered, "She knew . Somehow, she knew."
I nodded slowly. "We kissed once, and she's already throwing condoms and brochures at us."
"I mean, it was a good kiss."
"It was ," I agreed. "But we weren't exactly frantically looking for a closet to bang in."
"Sheesh," Jack echoed, shaking his head.
We packed in silence after that, side by side, a little more tender than before. A little more cautious. But as we zipped up our bags and got ready to leave, our hands brushed. I looked at him, and he gave me a shy smile – just a flicker, just enough.
And somehow, despite the horror of the Great Sex Talk of 2025, everything felt… okay.
As soon as my mom pulled up to the front gates of Harrison West, I felt the familiar dread settle in my chest.
Jack and I got out of the SUV, slinging our overnight bags over our shoulders as slushy snow crunched beneath our boots. The sky was dull and gray, and the air had that late-winter wetness to it – like everything had been soaked and flash-frozen overnight. I used to think of this place as a second home. But stepping back on campus after the weekend we'd just had… it didn't feel quite the same anymore.
Too much had changed.
We didn't say much as we walked toward Linden Hall. I kept glancing at the dorm windows, half-expecting to see someone peering out with binoculars or taping up a giant sign that said "Congratulations, Boyfriends!" in glitter marker (primary suspect: Mark).
If I saw that, I might actually die. Right there in the snow. Just fall over, spirit gone, body frozen mid-blush.
Why couldn't Jack and I just have this – quietly, privately, for ourselves? Why did everything at Harrison West have to be public entertainment? I just wanted to enjoy this new thing, this new feeling, without having to navigate a minefield of smirks, teasing, and Jonah saying something both lewd and hilarious … probably with props.
This was ours . Something we were figuring out together. And we needed to figure it out without all the noise and everyone else's opinions.
Things with Noah got … messy. But now, I was getting a "do-over," and I wanted to do it right. Better. And I wanted to make Jack feel special, safe, and loved, the opposite of what Noah made me feel. Jack was my Little Prince.
All I wanted was to crawl back into bed with him, pull the blankets over our heads, breathe in his warmth, kiss him slow and soft, and fall asleep tangled together. Just us.
Was that really too much to ask?
Finding a boyfriend wasn't supposed to feel this dramatic. It was supposed to be… simple. Easy. Awkward and sweet. Our path to get there was a little more … complicated. And then there was that word again— boyfriend. We hadn't said it to each other yet. Not once. My mom had, and I was pretty sure everyone else would, the second they found out.
And the worst part? I finally got it – in a twisted way – why Noah had been so hesitant to use it. Boyfriend didn't feel like just a label. It felt heavy, significant, like it came with expectations I wasn't sure I was ready for.
A shift in gravity.
God, I hated that Noah might've been even partially right about something. But there it was.
Still, I knew Jack. I knew his heart, his hopes, the way he looked at me like I was something precious. If he wanted to use the word, I wasn't going to be the one to take that away from him.
If Jack wanted to call me his boyfriend, then I was going to be his boyfriend.
By the time we reached the front steps of Linden, my head was pounding with everything I hadn't said, everything I hadn't figured out yet. This weekend changed me. Changed us .
Change is good, I reminded myself. But it can also be awkward as hell.
We stepped inside. I held my breath.
Nothing.
No banner. No rainbow confetti. No one slow-clapping in the common room or blasting "Chapel of Love" (personally, I preferred the Elton John version from 1994 from the Four Weddings and a Funeral soundtrack, but that's just me).
Mark and Emery were in the corner arguing about whether Call Me by Your Name Timothée Chalamet was hotter than A Complete Unknown Timothée Chalamet. Danny was curled up with a novel. No Jonah in sight.
Everything looked… weirdly normal.
I exhaled slowly. "Maybe they don't know."
"How would they? Would your mom have called the school to have them make an announcement? Jack asked sarcastically, although he was still glancing around suspiciously.
We made it up to our room without incident, laughing quietly about how anticlimactic it all was. Maybe – maybe – we'd get a day or two of peace before Jonah launched some elaborate prank. I was just about to unlock the door when Jack stepped ahead of me and opened it.
He froze.
I nearly walked into his back.
And then I saw it.
Mr. G was sitting on Jack's bed .
In one hand: a peeled banana.
In the other: a shiny, unopened condom.
On the bed next to him? A stack of brochures. Very familiar brochures.
"Oh my god," I muttered. "No. No, no, no."
"Welcome back, boys," Mr. G said, taking a bite of his banana. "We need to have a little chat."
Jack let out a strangled noise and backed into me like he was trying to melt into the doorframe.
"Wait – how did you even…?"
"My eyes work," Mr. G said casually. "Also, your mom texted me."
" WHAT?! " I shrieked.
He nodded, completely unbothered. "She said she had the talk with you. Thought I should reinforce it. You know, from the school side."
I wanted to teleport.
"I swear to God," I groaned. "We kiss once and suddenly everyone's acting like we're about to film a porno about our lives."
"I would totally want Joey Mills to play me," Jack proclaimed, before noticing my withering death glare and clearly deciding that now was probably not the best time to be joking around. I certainly did like Joey Mills, though, especially his older stuff.
Mr. G grinned. "Hey, I'm not here to judge, boys. This kind of thing is a lot more common in an all-boys' boarding school than you may realize. Sometimes it's just messing around and experimenting because there aren't any girls around, and sometimes it's a lot more real than that. I'm just here to say: if you're gonna do the deed, wrap the need . And don't get caught, because then your parents will be getting a phone call, and you may get your very own school assembly in your honor."
"Please stop talking," I whispered, practically begging. I'd had just about enough talk about my non-existent sex life for one day.
He patted the stack of brochures. "Take one of each. I brought the full set. Herpes. Gonorrhea. HIV. Genital warts. The classics. You can pick up all the free condoms you need in the infirmary."
This was not happening.
Jack looked like he was trying to vibrate through the wall, his fingers manically drumming some unrecognizable pattern on the front of his right leg. Was he trying to signal "S.O.S." or something?
"Also," Mr. G added, standing up and dusting imaginary crumbs from his hands, "don't worry. No banner. Jonah was planning one, but I convinced him to hold off. Something about 'letting them have their moment' or whatever."
"Oh my god ," I moaned. "How the hell did everyone find out?!"
Mr. G ruffled my hair. "Good to have you back, Nick."
He turned to Jack, winked, and said, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Which is… almost nothing."
At that exact moment, with the worst possible timing ever, Jonah burst through the door, shouting, "You two totally banged, didn't you?!?! "
And with that, Mr. G raised an eyebrow and got up to leave, casually tossing the banana peel into the trash.
We both stood in stunned silence for a few moments.
Then Jack slowly turned to me and whispered, "This is worse than the brochures."
I nodded solemnly. "This is worse than the talk . This is worse than condoms in a public health pamphlet labeled 'Is Your Mouth at Risk?'"
And then we both completely lost it. Jonah quickly joined in, most likely with no idea what we had been through already that day, but not wanting to be left out.
We collapsed onto the bed in hysterics, laughing until our stomachs ached, until I couldn't breathe, until tears were rolling down Jack's cheeks and mine.
This had been the weirdest , most awkward day ever in the history of my otherwise dull and lonely life. Before, it was like no one cared about me, no one even saw me. Now, it was the complete opposite. It felt like everyone cared (even if it wasn't their business), and everyone saw me. It was a significant change in my social adjustment from the "Old Nick" to the "New Nick," and I was still working through it.
"I can't believe he was just sitting there ," Jack gasped. "Like some kind of horny guidance counselor."
I covered my face with my hands. "I will never eat a banana again."
We lay there, side by side, the ridiculous stack of brochures still sitting between us, and slowly the laughter faded. But the warmth stayed. The connection. The absolute absurdity of being young and gay and in love and completely humiliated.
And even with all of it – especially because of all of it – I wouldn't have changed a thing.
"So, guys, did you actually bang or not?" Jonah piped up again. "Inquiring minds want to know!"
Somehow – by the grace of God, fate, and maybe Mr. G's watchful eye – Sunday evening didn't devolve into a complete shitshow.
There were, of course, moments . Jonah being the most obvious one. He kept popping up like an unholy jack-in-the-box, following me and Jack around the common room and making ridiculously loud smooching sounds. Every time I glanced over, his face was scrunched into this exaggerated kissy expression, which made it both better and worse.
What finally got him to stop – miraculously – was Cute Danny, who looked up from his book, sighed dramatically, and said, "Jonah. Seriously. Knock it off."
Jonah immediately paused mid- Mwah! , gave Danny a faux-wounded pout, then made a zipping motion across his lips and tossed away an imaginary key like some tragic silent film diva. It was absurd. But effective.
And somehow, we also managed to convince the little goblin that Jack and I hadn't, in his words, "banged." Which I think was a win? I didn't want to know what he would've done with that mental image. Probably draw something in a notebook and leave it on Christian's pillow to freak him out.
After dinner, Jack and I had a mountain of homework to face, and not much brainpower left to face it with. We bailed from the group early, retreated to our room, and tried to focus. Tried being the keyword. By nine o'clock, I was slumped over my notebook, and Jack had fallen asleep face-first into his lit textbook. We both gave up around the same time and decided to call it quits.
After separate showers (and I was still a little surprised, if grateful, that Jack hadn't asked again about sharing one), we put on clean pairs of underwear and T-shirts, and collapsed in a heap onto his bed – a sweaty, slightly damp pile of emotional exhaustion and too many thoughts.
At around 10:30, Mr. G peeked his head in, his voice softer than usual. "Lights out, boys. Try to get some rest. I know it's been a… full weekend. And don't forget your meds."
No argument here.
We muttered our goodnights and then, as soon as the coast was clear, we shuffled over to my bed, ripped off our T-shirts and shorts, and crawled under the covers together. We barely had the strength for a goodnight kiss. But we still did it, slow and sleepy, like it was a reflex. Like breathing.
And then I was out.
Until 6:30 AM.
When Jack's phone screamed us awake with the most god-awful heavy metal song I'd ever heard. It sounded like a band of demons gargling glass in a blender.
I groaned into my pillow. "Why would you do this to me?"
Jack stretched and yawned like he was proud of himself. "Gets me out of bed."
"Gets me into an early grave," I muttered.
It took everything we had to peel ourselves off the mattress, find clean clothes, drag combs through our hair, drown ourselves in body spray, and stumble to the dining hall.
I was honestly surprised we remembered to bring our backpacks.
Our friends were already there, waiting at our usual table. And the moment we sat down, Jonah practically launched across the table like a caffeinated ferret.
"Oh my God , you guys!" he squealed.
Christian, without missing a beat, planted a firm hand over Jonah's mouth.
"They'll talk," he said calmly, " when and if they decide to. Give them a minute to breathe, devil spawn."
Jonah rolled his eyes behind Christian's palm, then made an exaggerated show of zipping his lips and tossing the key again.
Jack shrugged, casual as anything. "It was nice. We hung out, watched some movies, played in the snow, stuff like that. It was cool. Low-key."
I could've kissed him right then.
" And?! " Emery and Mark both blurted in unison.
I sighed, fully aware that I'd never hear the end of it anyway. "And… there may have possibly been some kissing involved."
Every single boy at the table shrieked.
Jonah had the hugest shit-eating grin on his face and it looked like smoke was about to come shooting out of his ears.
Even Christian shouted, "Finally!"
I froze mid-bite as the entire dining hall turned to look at us. Someone dropped their cereal bowl two tables over.
Jonah recovered first. "So… when are you gonna do it ?"
Christian slapped the back of his head.
Jonah pouted. "I meant emotionally. God. You people are filthy. I'm only thirteen!"
We survived the rest of breakfast without any other major incidents – though I did hear a few exaggerated kissing noises from another table, which I ignored out of sheer self-preservation. How did people find out so fast?
The day was long. Cold wind. Surprise Biology quiz. I forgot to bring my scarf, and Jack gave me his even though he pretended he wasn't cold. By the time the final bell rang, my brain was fried. But when I stepped outside and saw Jack standing across the quad waiting for me, my heart actually did that fluttery thing I used to think only happened in bad teen movies.
We didn't hold hands. Not yet. Not with everyone still watching us like hawks. But we walked close enough that our shoulders brushed with each step. That was enough – for now.
During dinner, we heard a few more "mwah" sounds from the peanut gallery, but no one pushed it. Honestly, we were weathering the storm better than I expected.
After prep, Jack and I were both halfway asleep at our desks when he finally asked what I knew he'd been thinking about since Saturday. The big question. I'd been kinda hoping he'd give me a couple more weeks to get used to the idea of us just kissing and snuggling, but I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't put him through what Noah put me through.
"So, um… are we, like, officially boyfriends now?"
He tried to sound casual. But I knew that voice. That nervous, hopeful one he used when he wasn't sure if he were going to get hurt or not, and certainly not the voice one would expect from the "rebel-emo-twink" who wasn't supposed to have a care in the world. It was clearly a façade, because Jack had turned out to be one of the most sensitive boys I knew.
I didn't hesitate.
"Of course we are."
His face softened. His whole body softened. Like he hadn't even realized how tense he'd been until I said it out loud.
We didn't talk about it any further. We didn't need to.
Eventually, the gang found their way into our room – like they always seemed to do. It was part hangout, part impromptu therapy session, part teenage cuddle pile. Everyone was just… there.
Jack and I were curled up together on my bed, his head in my lap, my fingers running through his messy hair. His roots were really starting to show again, and I wondered, silently, if he'd re-dye it or let it grow out. Either would be beautiful. He was beautiful.
Danny and Jonah were tangled up on the floor in the middle of a chaotic, giggly tickle war that kept restarting every time one of them breathed wrong. Emery and Mark were half-reading some weird sci-fi paperback, whispering commentary to each other and rolling their eyes at the more ridiculous parts.
Christian wasn't there – probably with his jock friends, getting hyped about spring training or whatever. I hoped he'd be back soon. I wanted to ask him what he thought about the Tigers this year.
At around 10:30, Mr. G popped his head in again, smiling like he always did when he saw too many boys crammed into one room. He herded everyone out with his usual "lights out, knuckleheads," and suddenly it was quiet again, and Mr. G slipped me my pill before departing.
It was just me and Jack.
And that quiet didn't last long.
We barely made it under the covers before our mouths found each other again – like magnets drawn back into place, like a promise we couldn't help but keep. It started slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that felt like we were still drifting between sleep and something sweeter. Our lips moved in that dreamy rhythm, exploring without urgency, savoring instead of rushing. But then my hand slid to his waist, and his fingers curled into the small of my back. Hips tilted. Breath hitched. And when our tongues finally met, it was like something inside both of us exhaled – longing giving way to quiet surrender.
Every soft moan that slipped between us felt like a secret we hadn't dared speak aloud, wrapped in the safety of shadow and cotton sheets. His body fit against mine like it had always known the shape of me, and in those moments – quiet, electric, wrapped in warmth – I didn't feel nervous or awkward or wrong. I just felt right . Like maybe, for once, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
We didn't say much.
We didn't need to.
Every time our mouths came together, it said everything I was still too scared to put into words.
And Jack was kissing me like he was afraid I would disappear if he stopped. He was absolutely insatiable, and I low-key loved it, knowing my boyfriend was so wildly into me.
And all I could think was:
Please. Let me keep this one.
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