White Teeth and Blue-Blooded Boys

The first person I officially came out to was my best friend. We were both sixteen and still stupid and as we sat there in our pajama pants, knees touching on the hardwood floor, I told him that I kissed a boy under the tree in the backyard. I told him that it felt like summer and the way flowers smell and skipping school to hang out with my mom; how I grabbed the front of his shirt and he didn't pull back, how he said he thought he loved me and how I said it back, how I thought that I liked kissing boys a lot more than I liked kissing girls.

Henry didn't say anything at first, just looked down at his clasped hands and I almost thought he was going to bolt right then, tell me we weren't best friends anymore, but then he let out this little chuckle. He looked back into my eyes and there wasn't anything different in them.

"That's awesome, Ansel," he said to break the awkwardness - but not really because nothing used to be awkward between us.