Outie

They're playing truth or dare, like they do at every slumber party. They don't call them slumber parties though. For one, there's not really any slumbering. They stay up with ghost stories and finger paints, waiting for the first victim to fall asleep. It used to be Sharpies, but Ben's mom got upset when her son came home with a semi-permanent LOSER across his forehead.

For second, they're too old for sleepovers. They're men, young ones, not boys. They have deep voices and cars for fooling around with girls in. They take them to the side streets, away from the street lights. Away from all the cops that peer inside windows. All they'd see are two hot and heavy teens, feeling each other up in the back of a dented station wagon, clothes merely pushed up not off. 

Steven takes a dare, to poop in the cat's litter box. It takes him a few minutes, yet he doesn't back down, because he'd do anything they throw at him. He's bold like that. 

Darrius picks truth. He always picks truth. It frustrates Tito to no end, because he has this mega crush on him, and he wants nothing more than someone to dare him to kiss him. He's seen his friend kiss girls (okay, one, because kissing Mary on the cheek after she found his lost puppy did not count in his book) but never any boys.

Tito isn't even out of the closet, but you can bet his last quarter that he'd come out of the closet for him. Heck, he'd come out of the room, out of the house, parade that boy around town like the star he was.

"Fine," Ben exhales, "why do you always pick truth, ya wuss?"

He takes a kernel from the communal popcorn bowl. "Because y'all made Steven streak down the street and we had to get his mother to bail him out. You guys are intense."

He's been studying for months, and he is not going to have his record tarnished by some silly dare from a slumber party game. The punishment for not accepting your dare is getting duct taped to the floor, mummified for the rest of the night. They turn on the faucet, just a drip, enough to make you want to wet your bundle. He's never witnessed it, but he's heard stories about some kid named Jimmy that transferred schools before he came along, after getting called Piddle Puddle for the duration of his ninth grade year.

Darrius was no Piddle Puddle. 

"Well if Steven hadn't been screaming the entire way, he would have been fine."

"It was freezing outside!" He turns to Tito, eyes narrowing. He blew him in for cheating on the math test yesterday, and he's still sore over it. That's a zero on his record, and an after school detention of scraping gum off the bottoms of the tables in the library. He may never chew the stuff again. "Truth or dare, T?"

Tito breaks his eyes away from Darrius. "Dare."

There's a gleam in his eyes that almost makes him regret not picking truth. Either way he is probably screwed. Steven seems to have caught on to the fact that he's been staring at his friend all too often lately. Truth means acknowledging his feelings, with words. You can't lie with words. It's not lies and dares.

"I dare you to drink a shot of orange juice...from Darrius' belly button." 

"Why am I getting roped into this?" He doesn't want anything near his belly button. He doesn't want Tito's lips there. He's insanely ticklish. Also, there's one small problem.

Ben answers for him. 

"Because you're a truth picking pansy."

It's getting hot in the room, especially for January. That may have something to do with the fact that he is nodding, accepting the dare, and that his lips are going to be there, right there, on his best friend's belly button. 

His super attractive best friend. The one that he has more than friendly feelings for.

Tito moves to sit next to Darrius. He gently pushes him towards the floor, settling his head on his abandoned sweatshirt. He should have kept it on and let the hood swallow him whole. If only it worked that way.

No, it works by pushing up the shirt of his friend, hands shaking. He inspects the button, and it occurs to him that this isn't going to work.

"You're an outie."

"Dude, for real?" Steven moves to inspect, as if he doesn't believe him. They've never seen him topless, considering that he joined the friend group only a few months ago, in the cool autumn. He confirms it.

There's a relief rushing through Tito. With no cavern to drink out of, the dare is off. He's not going to have to drink out of his belly button.

"I need a new dare." 

"You can do it from Paul's belly button." Paul is Steven's older brother, who is sound asleep in his room. His very hairy older brother who will slap him upside his head if he finds him using him as a cup.

He gags. 

"You can call it the Virgin Fuzzy Navel," Ben goads, downing his own glass. 

The group shuffles to the next room, only to find that Paul isn't there. His window is open, with a rope ladder dangling out of it. He's run off for his own night of shenanigans (probably in that dented station wagon they share).

"I guess I need a new, new dare." Tito is afraid whose belly is next. He hopes it isn't Steven's grandpa. He's asleep in front of the tv, the supposed chaperone. He's hairier than Paul.

The group makes their way to the kitchen, right to the fridge. There's a can of Reddi-whip on the top shelf. 

"I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner," Steven says, leading them back to the bedroom. "You can just eat the cream off him instead."

Darrius stiffens. "Do I not get any say in this?"

"You spilled Coke in my car."

"It was an accident!"

"Revenge is a dick, Darrius."

He's fed up. This may be a mistake, risking the only friends he's made since he moved here. He says it anyways.

"That makes two of you then." He grabs for his backpack and sleeping bag. "Tito, do you want a ride home?"

Choice words are thrown around the room, mainly by Steven. They both leave before he can break out the duct tape. Knowing him, there'll be a worse punishment. 

Tito is quiet for a good portion of the way back to his house. There's a decent level of disappointment fighting the relief coursing through him. He can't put it into words. 

The sound of the can breaks the silence.

"You took his Reddi-whip?" 

"Want some?" His mouth is full of cream, and he licks his lips. The car is now parked, so Darrius unbuckles to turn to his friend.

"Hit me." 

He presses the nozzle until there's a small mountain. It may not be on him, getting licked off as he bursts into a fit of giggles (this is no fantasy, not that doing it in front of his friends would've been) from getting tickled.

Tito takes another hit. It's one in the morning, and here they are, in a mini van doing whipped cream shots under the streetlight.

"I think it's empty now." Darrius shakes the can, setting it in the cupholder.

"I should probably let you get home," Tito says. He doesn't want to say it. It's more an escape route for his friend. There's usually some sort of third person buffer between them, and he can't tell if he's having as much fun as he is.

Darrius checks the time. "Mind if I stay over? Mom won't disable the security alarm until she gets up, and I don't want to wake her."

Did he say yes too quickly? He'll blame it on the sugar rush. 

They watch a movie on his laptop, and he falls asleep against his shoulder before the credits roll. He'll blame it on the sugar crash.

He wakes up under a blanket, under an arm of a boy with an outward belly button. He doesn't know who or what to blame it on. He closes his eyes to fall back asleep. Darrius wakes a few moments later.

"I like you," he mutters, back in his dreamland.

"I like you too," he responds, smiling as he closes his eyes.

He hopes one day he can say it while he's awake.