Paul is pulling you along as you walk. You take him in subtly, trying to see your friend in this changed person. All his expressions are the same, but they're pulled tighter on his gaunt face. His grin, which was framed by soft lines in his round cheeks only a few minutes ago, are now deep creases in his face. It suits him in a way, makes his happy expression more contagious. The squash around his eyes is gone, and you see his pupils glitter with excitement and maybe nervousness. "Where are we going?", you suddenly ask. Paul walks forward dutifully. "We have to go to your place. My roommate has like... zero chance of acting cool if I walk in like this, dude." That makes sense. Plus the two of you can talk a little more. You're not sure what your next step is with the ring. Should you keep using it? Is that selfish? It seems like a waste of a huge opportunity to stop now. The ring glistens in the afternoon sunlight, still on Paul's angular hand which is currently gripping your shoulder through your shirtsleeves. There's a slight sting on your skin. A couple of the coiled hairs on your shoulder (a fact you are still getting used to) are being pulled painfully taut. You shake his arm loose as you walk up to the lobby of your building.
Paul is uncharacteristically quiet on the elevator ride up to your floor. You figure that's for the best, so you can discuss everything privately. When you walk into the apartment, Paul heads to the bathroom, eyes glued to the floor. He looks at you over his shoulder just before he heads in. "I'll just be a minute, dude. Just want a chance to look at myself in a mirror." He closes the door behind him and you sit down. A few minutes pass; you want to check on him, be sure things are alright, when he calls your name. You press your ear to the bathroom door and call out. "What is it, Paul?" No response. You put your hand on the doorknob. "Paul?" You turn the handle and open the door.
Paul is standing there in his underwear. His collarbones are a wide v, jutting out from his pale skin. You notice how his ribs stick out a little, but not too much. He's smooth, like you were only a day ago, except for a little patch of chest hair between his lean pecs. You're surprised to see he has abs. Well, maybe abs is generous, but you can see the outlines of where they would be if he was a little brawnier. His chest is flushed a little. Is he excited?
His hand is an outstretched cup, with the ring in the middle. "Come here," he says. "The ring." You take a few steps forward, and move your hand to take it. As you do, Paul's cupped hand closes around yours. You look at him, or try to, but before you know it, his thin arm is on your back and he's pulled you close. His hot breath is on your cheek. You look at him, and he looks back intently. His eyes close and his head tilts, pressing his lips onto yours. Paul is kissing you. You're in shock, and reacting, you push him backwards firmly. You take a step back, putting some distance between the two of you. You try to ask him what he's doing, but all that comes out is a low, drawn out 'huh' sound.
Paul looks embarrassed, his cheeks are flushed red. He's smiling, but it's a little wobbly. And though you try not to, you can't help but take stock of the tent in your best friend's underwear. The sizeable tent. "Well... like... I guess that cop was gay, dude. And you must, uh, be his type I guess? Which makes you like... my type?" He's looking at you hopefully.