Oliver and I lie in bed the next morning, staring at the ceiling. Finally, he sits up, and then snickers. “You know, if Peter knocks at this door and we take two minutes to open the door because have to throw on clothes, he just might finally get suspicious. Then again, he thinks that I’m gay, so he still might not.â€? “You know that?â€? I ask him in surprise.

“He’s always said little things to hint at it. I’ve told him repeatedly that I’m not, but he thinks I’m lying. I haven’t corrected him lately because I figure that’s why he’s so lax about us being around each other constantly.â€?

Oliver turns onto his side to face me. “But, as you have already found out, that’s the farthest thing from the truthâ€?, he says, winking at me.

The phone rings. It is Peter, calling from our room. Oliver talks to him for a minute, and then he hangs up. “That was Pete. He was calling to see if you were up yet.â€? I sigh. “I guess I should head back over there now.â€? I stand and begin to dress.

Just a few more weeks.