Words Only Count If You Mean Them

A year anniversary means everything to a couple, it means even more to a gay couple. That’s mostly because it’s harder to stay together because of what society thinks. Today was Alex’s and mine first year anniversary. So why should it be any different for us? We had our share of hardships, but nothing could break the bound we had. Nothing.

The day of our one year anniversary started, it was a silent July morning. The sun was overhead and there was a cool breeze, every now and again. I hop into my car and check my hair for the hundredth time, this morning. I turn on the car and sounds of blink-128 fill the air.

I park my car in front of Alex’s house. I walk eagerly to the door –no that’s an understatement, I sprint. I knock impatiently, tapping my foot. The door opens and Alex’s mom appears. She’s still in pajamas and is holding a mug.

She yawns, “Good morning, Jack, I’m pretty sure Alex is still sleeping, but you’re welcome to go and check.”

“Thanks Mrs. Gaskarth,” I smile stepping in and taking my shoes off. Take the quickest route to Alex’s room and go to knock, but stop. Someone was muttering.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I hear Alex chant. I knock and hear Alex yelp. “Come in.” I turn the knob and see Alex straightening his hair. He sees me through the mirror and frowns, “Sorry I forgot to set my alarm and my phone died, so it didn’t alert me.”

“It’s okay,” I respond taking a seat on his bed. “Besides,” I continue, “You’re cute when you’re worked up.” I smile and he laughs.

“Thanks,” he mutters, finishing the last chunk of hair left. “Done!” He exclaims, in a childish manner.

I laugh.

“What?” he pouts

I grin, wrapping my arms around his waist, “You’re just so adorable.”

“You already said that.”

“No, before I said you were cute, just now I called you adorable.”

“Same thing.” He says, looking up at me with those big brown eyes of his.

“No, cute is cliché, adorable is affectionate, much like this,” I plant my lips on his head.

“Whatever,” he mumbles into my chest.

“Keep your clothes on boys,” Alex’s mom shouts from the outside the closed door.

Alex blushes, the right amount of pink painting his cheeks. “Mom!” He shouts.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Gaskarth, we’re keeping it PG-13 in here.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Alex’s dad shouts, joining the conversation.

“All of you, shut up!” Alex shots his face the same bright red as his shirt.

“He’s right though,” I mumble, “PG-13 can mean anything nowadays.”

I have to say his parents are really cool, even though he doesn’t think so. My parents would have never engage in a conversation like this. Now, I’m not saying my parents are homophobic, they’re far from it, but they find it a bit weird to talk to have a conversation like that with their son. Once they found out they didn’t have to worry about me getting a girl pregnant, all they say is for me to keep it safe. Alex says he’d rather have my parents because they are quiet about my relationship.

“Can we leave now?” Alex asks.

“Like that?” I ask, gesturing to the fact he was only in boxers.

“Shit!” he yells, making some grumbling sound afterwards. He grabs a pair of dark skinny
jeans and pulls them on his slender legs. He smoothes his shirt, grabs a beanie, a hoodie and
his iPod. He catches my hand and pulls me out of his room. “Ready, now? Am I forgetting anything now?” He asks.

“Yes,” I respond, he gives me a puzzled look.

“Wait! What am I forgetting now?” he asks, whining a bit.

I smirk, “This,” I say capturing his lips; he starts to kiss back when:

“I thought we were keeping this PG-13,” his mom says, walking into the room with his dad.

“So did, I” his dad says, “I guess, I was wrong.”

Alex blushes, “Seriously? Shut up! We’re leaving now! And don’t expect me to pick up my
phone because-”

“Alexander! Stop right there! Your father and I do not want to here the explicitness, of
yours and Jacks date.”

“My phones dead! Okay? Nothing like that!” Alex’s face when he was shouting, was HOT! I felt slightly turned on. He pulls me out the front door and slams it closed. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “It’s just that-”

“It’s okay,” I cut him off, “ You’re cute when you yell.”

“’Cute is cliché’,” Alex says, quoting me.

“Fine, it was hot.”

“How is hot defined?” he asks, “If cute is cliché and adorable is affectionate. What’s hot?”

I ponder that for only a second, “Sexual, hot is sexual.”

He blushes, again. It was so easy to make him blush. I pick him up bridal style and carry him to my car. I place him in the passenger seat. I place an innocent kiss on his lips. I hop into the car and start the engine. I look backwards and back up the car.

And so our day begins…