Gabriel

GAbrIEL

We gather our stuff in silence and head outside, where the weather’s gotten even lousier. The rain from earlier has turned into sleet. Josh’s clothes are still uncomfortably damp, so almost the moment I step outside, it feels like somebody’s dumped a bucket of cold water over me. Luckily, the subway isn’t too far away.

We make the trip to Josh’s place in complete silence. He leads and I follow, until we stop in front of one of the brownstones near Fort Greene Park.

Josh opens the front door and gestures me through. We make our way up the stairs where Josh unlocks another door and steps inside.

“Home sweet home,” he says as he shrugs out of his jacket.

I toe off my shoes and hang my own jacket on the hook before I venture farther into Josh’s apartment.

It’s not what I expected, if I’m being honest. Considering his family is the dictionary definition of filthy rich, I was expecting something more opulent. A penthouse apartment. Something obscenely large for one single person in New York. Instead, Josh lives in a studio that looks decidedly… normal. The only thing that hints that he’s from an affluent family is the fact that he doesn’t have to share the apartment with ten other people, which is the New York way. Other than that, there are no chandeliers and the square footage doesn’t rival that of a small castle. It’s just an apartment. A small one. A really small one.

“Where’s your bed?” I turn toward Josh.

He nods at the couch. “There.”

“You sleep on a pull-out couch?”

He rolls his eyes. “You know, considering how despicable you seem to find wealth of any kind, you’re very snobby about stuff.”

“It’s not about being snobby. You’re saying we have to share?”

He shrugs. “Unless you want to sleep on the floor.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Bathtub?” he asks while blinking at me innocently.

“Would it kill you to take any of this at least a little bit seriously?”

“Yes.”

I take a deep breath. This is going to be a long night.

“Whatever. I’m just going to—” I stop abruptly when something else occurs to me.

“You’re just going to…” Josh prompts.

I close my eyes and let out an exhausted laugh. Once I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop.

“Did you finally snap?” Josh asks.

“I wish. No. I just realized something. We’re both going to want to take a shower. And go to the bathroom. And we’re going to do all of that in the wrong bodies.”

Josh stares at me in complete silence before he nods. “Interesting.” He turns around and heads for the bathroom. Just like that. No plan or discussion about what’s going to happen next. I practically run after him and slam my palm on the door just as he’s about to open it.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Oh, you know, gonna go take a look at the goods.”

“What?” I’m not proud of the way my voice sounds. Squeaky panic is how I’d describe it.

“I’ve always wanted to see if the huge chip on your shoulder means you’re compensating for a tiny dick.”

My mouth falls open. “I do not have a small dick. It’s perfectly adequate.”

“Wow. You’re really selling yourself. Is this what you say when you try to convince somebody to sleep with you? Come on, baby. Jump on my perfectly adequate dick.”

“I… That’s none of your business,” I sputter.

“Mine’s huge,” Josh says conversationally. “Just in case you want to prepare yourself because you’re not used to handling something so magnificent.”

He starts to open the door again, and I slam my palm on it again.

He rolls his eyes. “Relax. I’m taking out the lightbulbs. You can touch, but you can’t look.”

“That’s the worst slogan I’ve ever heard.”

“Really? I thought it was kind of catchy,” he says over his shoulder as he pries my hand away from the door and goes inside to grab the bulbs.

“All yours,” he says once he’s out.

I take the quickest shower known to humankind, all the while making sure I don’t touch anything below the naval area. Even quickly rubbing my palms over Josh’s chest feels like the worst kind of invasion of privacy. And he’s going to do that to me in a minute, too. I mean, I don’t exactly care that much about him touching me with my own hands, just… It feels wrong to do it to him, even if these are technically his own hands.

I push those thoughts aside and dress in the T-shirt and sweats Josh left in the bathroom for me. When I step out, I find Josh lounging on the bed, his eyes on the ceiling, a frown on his face. It’s a strange feeling, but it’s not like I think it’s me hanging out on Josh’s couch. It’s more that it feels like I’ve suddenly gained a twin brother. Josh looks up when I step into the room, tilts his head to the side, and studies me.

I feel oddly naked without my own clothes, and I’m surrounded by Josh’s smell. It’s… not a hundred percent unenjoyable. It’s kind of exotic, like pineapples mixed with the smell of clean laundry.

“What?” I mutter as I dry my hair.

Josh shakes his head. “Nothing. I just don’t usually get to appreciate how hot I am. Is that what you see every day? How do you get any work done?”

“With little to no difficulty.”

He gets up and stretches. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

He laughs as he closes the bathroom door behind him. I drop onto the couch and rub my hands over my face before I flop down on my back.

And just in case, I pinch the inside of my arm as hard as I can.

“Wake up, wake up, wake the fuck up.”

No dice.