I had just moved into my new place; a one-bedroom condo in a nice part of town. I was single again, and half looking forward to some independence and time alone.

I was coming back in from the store—another quiet Friday night at home—when I heard someone say, “Hello!”. As I looked up, I saw my young neighbor—probably in his late 20s, tall, strikingly handsome, and very wholesome looking. “Hey, how’s it going?”, I responded. He had a big smile on his face, and I thought to myself, “Man, if only I were only a few years younger…”

Who was I kidding, I’ve always been tragically shy. Odd thing about my personality, when I’m among people who have no sexual significance to me, I’m outgoing and confident. The second I am either interested in someone or feel they’re interested in me, it’s like my mind shuts down. In this case, I hadn’t even considered this guy to be anything more than a neighbor, so we talked with ease.

“I’m Trent,” he said with an expectant look on his face. “Paul”, I responded, as I shook his outstretched hand. He asked if I had just moved in, and I told him I had. He said he thought he heard someone over there, and then saw lights on, but didn’t know whether someone had actually moved in. He said my unit had been vacant for some time.

We stood on the walkway between our second floor units and got to know each other a bit. He is an aspiring chef, and works odd hours. No time for dating, due to his work and school schedules, and the fact that he often ends up working late. He was a clean-cut kid from Nebraska, and I had no doubt he’d freak if he realized he was talking to a gay guy. So, I spoke with ambiguity when I explained that I had just ended a relationship, and moved on. He again emphasized that he hadn’t been with a woman in so long, he couldn’t remember what it was like.

After about an hour, he said, “So, you have plans tonight?” I told him I didn’t, and that I just planned to chill. He said, “Cool, why don’t I run up and grab us some beers, and we can hang out.” I told him I don’t drink, but that I have a six-pack of Corona in the fridge that I keep for company. Living in the Southwest, Corona seems like a beer staple, so I had picked it up along with a couple bottles of wine the last time I was at the store. He said, “Cool, let me change clothes, and I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

I put away my groceries, and it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t…

Find out what happens next!