The Naughty List - 5. Arrangement

“... That was incredible,” I pant, still feeling a little high from everything that just happened.

“Indeed, it was…” Ernesto pants back, equally out of breath. “I feel like I discovered a completely new side to you tonight, Quentin...”

We look at each other, break into a smile, and then kiss.

“... Sorry. I should’ve used a condom,” I mutter, looking down at the total mess we’ve made on the bed. He chuckles at my remorseful tone.

“Sí, I suppose practicing safe sex is never a bad idea.”

“I-It was my first time,” I confess, turning a little red. “I didn’t really know what I was doing, to be honest.”

Ernesto glances at me, and smiles. “It’s okay, this was a new experience for me too. Until now, I’ve mostly been the one to… como se dice…”

He clumsily gestures a penetrative motion with his fingers, making me snort in shock.

“Please never do that again,” I beg, holding back a smile while shaking my head.

Of course, the direct implication of his statement didn’t go unnoticed. This wasn’t Ernesto’s first time in bed with someone. Not that I expected it to be, or that it really mattered… but it was a strange thing to think about.

For a moment my mind wanders, and I imagine who his past partners were. I imagine what they looked like, and what kind of relationship he’s had with them. And then— just like that— Ernesto suddenly felt like a distant stranger again, despite our physical proximity.

I clear my throat.

“... Girls our age aren’t really into ass-play, are they?” I remark, trying to shake off any lingering curiosity creeping into my head. The negative thoughts that prickled my chest weren’t worth it.

Ernesto glances at me.

“Who ever said my previous experiences were with girls?”

I pause.

“Wait… what?”

He chuckles. “I attended an all-boys Catholic school my whole life, Quentin. We did lots of things without the adults knowing.”

I stare at him, trying to pick up the jaw that I swear just dropped onto the floor.

“Wait, so are you—...”

“Gay?” he giggles. “Hmm, I do like girls. But sometimes, I find other boys cute, too. Actually, I always thought you were—...” his voice trails off. He gives me a quick once-over, before shaking his head with a silly smile. “Nevermind, olvidalo. I should probably go take a shower.”

Before I could ask him to complete the sentence, he gets up and disappears into the bathroom.

I remain alone on the bed for a second, completely stunned at the bombshell confession. Ernesto liked boys too? This entire time?

Although it shouldn’t be, this was a mind-blowing discovery. I had always assumed Ernesto was straight. It was just easier to give up on him that way. After all, he was supposed to be someone completely out of reach for me— an unattainable fantasy who would have never looked my way, if it wasn’t for some magical parchment paper that somehow made him fall in love with me.

But if Ernesto was always attracted to other boys, that would mean I always had a shot with him, too. An incredibly slim shot… but a shot, nonetheless.

That night, as Ernesto slept soundly snuggled in my arms, I pondered for the first time how things would have panned out if I didn’t rely on the Naughty List to get me here. If I had mustered up the courage and taken a chance to ask him out, like everybody else in the world.

I glance beside me, and gently run my fingers along the soft curls of Ernesto’s hair. Moonlight spills into the room, illuminating us both. My gaze lingers on the remaining names engraved on my wrist.

• 1. Zayn Nassif Johnson
• 2. Aiden Takahiro Parker
• 3. Ernesto Alvarez-Cruz
• 4. Ryan Johnson
• 5. Hunter Emory
• 6. Terrance Campbell
• 7. Peter Kim
• 8. Dean Smith
• 9. Diego Garcia

All of a sudden, the letters glow a scorching red, like a fuse caught on fire. And the number “8” on my palm grows in size, until its ebony richness swallows me whole.

When I open my eyes again, I find myself standing on the edge of another diving board. But this time, what stood in front of me wasn’t a pool, but a canyon so dark and expansive, I couldn’t even see the bottom. And yet, despite its petrifying vastness, the void in front of me felt strangely familiar, like I was staring into the face of an old friend.

A quiet whisper encourages me to jump. Will I be able to do it? My curious heart thumps loudly. But I shake my head, and walk away. I wish I had the courage to find out. But right now… I realize I was too afraid to even try.

~ * ~ * ~
 

The next morning, my eyes open to the faint sound of birds chirping. The weird dream I had the night before— something about cliffs and canyons, and a weird voice— slips away as I groggily glance over to my alarm clock.

It read 6:30 AM. Shit. Shit.

“E-Ernesto, wake up…”

I shake the shirtless boy next to me. He groans a bit, before slowly turning his head my way.

“... Buenos dias, bebecito,” he mutters, with a raspy voice and lazy smile. God damn it, he was so cute. But now was not the time to be admiring.

“Hey, my dad’s probably going to come home from his night shift soon. I should, uh… probably drop you home before then.”

Ernesto looks at me, and for a second, it almost appears he’s a bit taken aback. But he quickly flashes an understanding smile, and nods his head.

We hurriedly get dressed, and head downstairs in the darkness. I feel bad at how I have to rush Ernesto a bit, but amends can always be made later. Our dusky silhouettes almost succeed in making it to the door… but the sound of clanking keys beats us to it by a mere second.

The door swings open, and my dad—immediately surprised— appears from the other side.

“Q? Why’re you awake?”

Fuck. My dad notices Ernesto, with his still-disheveled hair, standing behind me.

“... You had someone over.” His question sounds more like a statement. A confused one, too. Cue the nervous laughter.

“M-Morning, Dad. Yeah, this is Ernesto. He’s in my Spanish class. He was, um… teaching me stuff, until late last night. So, he spent the night here.”

Teaching me stuff. Until late last night. Technically these aren’t incorrect statements. Ernesto shoots me a slightly unsure look, before sticking his hand out and committing to an introduction.

“Good morning. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Noel. Quentin and I are—…”

“— Friends,” I immediately cut in. I can almost feel Ernesto’s uncertain glance from my peripheral.

For a moment, my dad continues to stare at the unexpected guest with an unreadable expression. My heart beats loudly. The mere seconds that followed felt drawn out, like they were each at least a minute long. But then, my dad’s eyes soften into a warm smile.

“... Nice to meet you, Ernesto,” he says, reciprocating the handshake with a welcoming nod. “Sorry, if I knew we were having someone over, I would’ve cleaned up the house a bit.” He puts his duffel bag down, and walks past us to the dining area, grabbing his apron from the kitchen shelf.

“Why don’t you two hang around for a while? I’ll whip something up to eat, before you two head out.”

Internally, I panic again. “I-It’s fine, Dad. We should really get going, anyways...”

My dad frowns. “Why the hurry? It’s Sunday morning, you should—...”

“I said it’s fine, really!!”

The frustration in my voice comes out sharper than intended. A thick silence lingers in the room.

“... Sorry, dad. We’ll, uh… catch you later!”

Before further protests can be made, I’ve already begun pushing Ernesto out the door, leaving my confused dad in the dust.

~ * ~ * ~
 

Needless to say, by the time Ernesto and I shut the car door, I could tell some answers were in order. I groan, deflating on the top of the steering wheel.

“... I’m so sorry. I made that interaction wayyy worse than it had to be. You both deserved a better introduction to each other.”

A bemused Ernesto scratches his cheek.

“It’s okay, Quentin. Your father seemed really nice,” he reassures, patting me on the head from the passenger seat. “... But yes, I would’t have minded staying a little longer, you know.”

I let out a very long sigh, turning on the ignition while fixing my posture.“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m actually not ‘out’ to my dad yet.”

“Out?” Ernesto parrots in confusion. He thinks for a moment, then flashes a proud smile after putting two and two together. “Ah, I understand. Please continue.”

I pause in the middle of reversing the car, and let out a soft chuckle. Sometimes, English being Ernesto’s second language made him say the darndest things. It was yet another disarming quality of his— one that was very much appreciated in moments like this.

“Right, sorry. I meant outside the closet. Like, I haven’t told my dad that I’m gay,” I clarify, while inhaling sharply. “So… I sort of panicked, when we bumped into him earlier.”

Ernesto glances at me. Without a word, he takes my free hand, and interlocks our fingers together.

“It’s okay, I understand. Are you planning on telling him?”

I sigh again. “I don’t know. I guess it’s something I never really thought about,” I respond, my eyes mindlessly glazing over the familiar streets and scenery of San Nicholas. “My goal this year was just to finish high school in peace. Exploring things seriously with someone was something I’d maybe do in college, away from all of this…”

My eyes then trail over to Ernesto, timidly.

“But then… you, sorta happened.”

At that, Ernesto falls noticeably quiet. When I glance over, I find him looking down at his feet.

“And how do you feel about me… happening?” he asks, fidgeting his fingers. Apprehension could be sensed from his voice.

Apprehension. From Ernesto. Unacceptable.

I immediately swerve over to the curb, jerking our bodies sideways in our seats.

At first, a wide-eyed, open-mouthed Ernesto turns to me in complete shock, but I apologize before he could say anything.

“Sorry, but I just wanted to be crystal clear: I really like you, Ernesto. You’re literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I still have to pinch myself to make sure everything we did last night was real; that it’s not something I made up inside my head, because being with you was something I’ve secretly dreamed about ever since I met you—…“

My heart thumps loudly, but my mouth plows onwards, without even catching a breath.

“—I honestly have no clue what I did in my past life to deserve you— or deserve any of the amazing things we did together last night— but regardless of what you may be thinking right now, and regardless of how overwhelming this might be for me personally, I just want to reiterate that my feelings for you are absolutely, 150% real.”

Ernesto blinks. The sound of the emergency lights click loudly in the background, amplifying the very, very long silence that passes over us. And then, Ernesto bursts into a sudden fit of laughter.

As my brain processes the unfiltered profession that just spewed out of my mouth, my cheeks flush into the color of boiled lobsters. Wow, I did really just say all of that? Out loud?? Oh god.

I clear my throat.

“... And sorry about that last maneuver, too. That was pretty dangerous of me,” I admit quietly, almost to myself.

Ernesto wipes a tear from his eye, and takes a couple deep breaths to calm himself down. “I admire your honesty, Quentin. Thank you for sharing what you were thinking,” he chuckles. He takes my hand again, and plants a soft kiss on its backside. “I really like you, too. But… why do I sense a very big ‘but’ coming after all of that?”

I gulp. Deep breaths, Q.

“There’s no doubt about my feelings for you, Ernesto. I mean that. But—…” My voice trails off, as I brace myself for the words that were about to come out of my mouth. “— I-I don’t know if I’m ready to come out of the closet yet…”

I look down at the floor. A part of me feels deeply ashamed to admit this. After all, the world around me constantly tells me that I should be out and proud already. That I’m somehow an incomplete person, if I’m not. But… what if I didn’t want to be out yet? What if inside the closet was where I felt the most comfortable? The most safe and secure? Was it wrong or invalid for me to feel that way?

We always talk about being in the closet like it’s a bad thing. But choosing to remain inside is also a choice— perhaps the one choice I’m allowed to make on my own terms. The one decision that’s reserved for myself, in a world where I otherwise have very little control over everything else. And a part of me wasn’t sure if I was ready to give up that choice, just yet.

Ernesto looks at me intently. The clicking sound of the emergency lights grow louder between us again. I try to break the silence, by clearing my throat a second time.

“You’re also returning to Buenos Aires after graduation, aren’t you…?” I decide to point out the obvious. Inside my head, I’ve already mapped out the final destination of this conversation. I didn’t like where I was taking this, either. But I felt it was the responsible thing to do.

I make up my mind.

“Before we get both invested any further, maybe we should just—...”

Ernesto leans in, pulling me into a deep kiss.

At first, my body jolts in surprise, but as the sound between our lips grows louder and wetter, I could almost feel my body melt inside his arms. Fuck… Ernesto is such an insanely good kisser. It’s like his mouth was made of candy, each kiss an ephemeral moment of sweetness that I wanted to savor, forever.

“... We’ll keep this a secret, then,” he mutters.

“W-What?” I barely manage to stammer, eyes half-glazed.

“You and I. We’ll keep it a secret.”

His deepened accent and assured gaze were enough to make my insides flutter, and— contrary to my wishes— my lower body stiffen. Ernesto continues to plant several kisses along my neck, sliding his hand between my legs, as if he wanted to make sure of the effect he was having on me.

He slowly unbuttons my jeans. I panic.

“B-But you’re eventually leaving,” I remind him, trying to maintain control over the conversation, despite his fingers slipping into my boxer briefs. “I don’t know if I’m ready for something serious with you, if it’ll just make things painful for both of us in the end…”

Both my mind and body make a feeble attempt to push him away. The rational part of my brain knows all the reasons this won’t work out. A relationship predicated on magic was never meant to be. But Ernesto’s got a firm grasp on me. And he won’t let go.

“Then it won’t be, Quentin.”

He squeezes. I moan.

“If you’re not ready for something public yet, then this won’t be, until you are. And if you’re not ready for something serious yet, then this won’t be either, until you are. We can choose to make this whatever we want to, Quentin,” he breathes into my ear. “But just like how you’re not ready for something public or serious yet, I am not ready to let you go. Not after hearing your feelings about me. About us. About last night.”

Ernesto slowly adds motion to his hand, applying more pressure onto me, pressing his thumb against the small bead of liquid oozing from my tip.

“Give us a chance, Quentin,” he urges again. “Please, just listen to your heart. Let this happen. Enjoy me. Enjoy this.”

I glance over to my car’s AC, just to make sure the dial was on. And although it was, for some reason, it didn’t feel like it at all.

“E-Ernesto, there’s people around us…” I try to protest, in between my quickening breaths. There were pedestrians on the sidewalk next to us. Bicyclists on the street. But he flashes an undeterred smile, letting go of me only to lick his sticky thumb.

“... Good thing your windows are tinted, then.”

Ernesto lowers his head. And then— without the use of any further words— he proceeded to tempt me with the messiest, most inappropriate reason why we shouldn’t call this quits, just yet.

~ * ~ * ~

By the time we pulled up to Ernesto’s house a short while later, the sun had already come up, showing a clear sky.

“Are you really sure about all this…?” I mumble, admittedly feeling apprehensive— maybe even a little hoodwinked— about the agreement we eventually came to, en route to his house.

“Sí. I told you, we don’t have to be official until you’re ready. Your dad, everyone at school... no one has to know anything about us,” he reassures with a smile. “Let’s just have an open mind, and see where things take us, Quentin. We don’t need to make any decisions about the future right now. I like you, and you like me. It’s as simple as that, no?”

I massage my temples, still in disbelief about the terms we’re ultimately agreeing to.

“… Yeah, but a spring fling, though? Like really? Do you even know what that is?” I retort, trying to wrap my head around the ridiculousness of the proposal. “I just feel like you deserve a much better arrangement Ernesto, and—...”

“— Stop, stop. I know what this is. And it’s exactly what I want,” he asserts once again. For the second time, he leans in close. “I mean, the idea is quite exciting, no? To just let it all go, and agree to something fun and casual with someone while living abroad…?”

He takes my hand again, and gives it a long, wet kiss.

“You’re my American dream, Quentin.”

There he goes again, lowering his voice by an entire octave. A real poet, he is. At this point, it’s clear that he’s aware of the effect that his deepened voice has on me. And he’s definitely using it to his advantage.

I shoot him an unamused look.

“... What kind of excitement are you talking about?”

He grins, catching my drift.

“Both kinds.”

At that, I couldn’t help but break character, and let out a weak, defeated chuckle. I had to admit, the way Ernesto seems so gung-ho and sparkly-eyed about all this was pretty damn cute. And as long as he was okay with it, the prospect of a secret, non-committal fling with the hot international student that everyone was obsessed with, was… as much as I shouldn’t admit it… a titillating offer for me, too.

Granted, we still had no clue what we’re going to do once we graduate. But for now, we’ve decided we’re not going to think about that, just yet. We’re going to trust the process, as Ernesto put it.

Grandma Mary’s words cross my mind again.

“Be selfish, young man. Live in the moment. And be happy. You deserve happiness. We all do.”

I sigh.

“Alright. Then I guess starting from tomorrow, we’ll be… friends with benefits.”

I cringe internally as I say this, scrunching my nose as the words drag off my tongue. Jesus, it felt so indecent to say this out loud. And yet, Ernesto looks at me with the most content look on his face, like he couldn’t be happier with the outcome.

“Sí, amigos con derechos,” he repeats, like he, too, was settling into the idea.

He squeezes my hand. Although this certainly wasn’t where I imagined the conversation would land when I initiated ‘the talk’ earlier, I genuinely appreciated the open line of communication we took to get here, and the clear expectations and boundaries we laid out for each other in the process.

Ernesto then thinks for a moment.

“You know, there’s also another word we also use to describe people like us back home: follamigos.”

I look at him, while turning on my ignition. “What’s that mean?”

He smirks. “Google it,” he answers, kissing me on the cheek one last time before opening the car door. “Ciao, Quentin. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”

I scratch my cheek, as he starts walking away. Obviously, I recognized what the word amigos meant… but not the first part. Curious, I punch the word into my smartphone.

The search result instantly heats my face.

“ERNESTO!!!” I yell from my car window, in total embarrassment.

The handsome exchange student simply turns around, raising an eyebrow with the cheekiest grin, before disappearing into his home.

To be continued...