Page 82 of Pride High

“Yeah,” she answered after laughing. “There’s no reason you can’t follow in his footsteps. John Waters, I mean. Whatever kind of movie you want to make, you just have to do it.”

“Simple as that, huh?”

“Yes. Simple as that.” She sounded so certain that he found himself believing her. Obviously he couldn’t film a movie that needed tons of special effects. Not without a big budget. But he wasn’t interested in that genre of cinema. He wanted to make something that stood out as truly different. The kind of movie that studios wouldn’t touch because they were too square and his vision was too real. He only needed to figure out what that would be. But it already helped knowing that someone believed in him.

Silvia had moved to one of the windows, the day still bright and cheerful, so he suggested they go for a walk. Omar showed her the park he often went to with Anthony and spun her on the merry-go-round until she threatened to barf. Although she wasn’t actually nauseous. Silvia was laughing too much for that to be true. When they returned to the house, the interior was silent.

“My grandma usually takes a nap around this time,” he whispered. “I’ll meet you upstairs. She gets grumpy if we walk around too much because it wakes her up.”

He got Silvia another iced tea before joining her in his room. Then he turned the radio on, just loud enough to set a mood.

“Cuddle?” she said to him.

“Sure!” Omar said, walking over to take her into his arms.

“No, I mean KUDL,” she said, pronouncing each letter. “The radio station.”

“That’s right,” he said innocently. “It’s my personal fav.”

She shook her head, knowing that he was full of shit. KUDL only played soppy romantic music. Phil Collins ballads and stuff like that. Which wasn’t his style but was perfect for making out. Silvia smiled as he touched his lips to hers. She kissed him back and it became more intense. They’d made out like this so often since their first date that Omar wished he’d kept track. How far away were they from reaching twenty-four hours total? He wanted to know when they’d kissed enough to fill an entire day.

Omar suggested that they move to his bed. Silvia seemed okay with that. Kissing her there felt even more exciting. She was lying on her back. He was on his side next to her. He played with her hair, stroked her neck, and eventually, began sliding a hand beneath her blouse.

Silvia tensed. “What are you doing?”

“I want to take things further,” he said, searching her eyes for permission. “Is that okay?”

“That depends on what you have in mind,” she said as she sat up.

Omar did the same. “Can I touch your boobs?”

Silvia raised an eyebrow. “I decided before I came over here that my bra was staying on.”

He grinned. “That means you were thinking of doing more.”

“Maybe.”

“Well can I at least see you in your bra?”

Silvia made a face, like she wasn’t crazy about the idea.

Omar got out of bed. “Maybe it’ll help if I show you my boobs first.” He stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it aside. Then he puffed up his chest while turning left and right. “What do you think? I can already tell that yours are way nicer.” He pressed his pecs together, trying to form cleavage.

Silvia laughed. “You do have a great chest.”

“You really think so?” Omar asked. “I should probably do more push-ups or something. Give you a nice big pair of man tits that you can brag to your friends about. Hey, do you want to feelmeup?”

“Sure!” Silvia said, making grabby hands.

Omar walked right into them. He only did so jokingly, but as he kneeled on the bed, he started to get really turned on. She played with his nipples while giggling before moving her hands over his biceps and down his arms. Silvia was tickling his stomach with her fingernails when it became painfully obvious, to them both, just how aroused he was.

“Sorry!” Omar said, standing and turning away so he could adjust himself. “Jesus. So embarrassing!”

“It’s flattering,” Silvia said. “Really.”

“We can take a break if you want.” Omar bent over for his T-shirt. Something hit him in the butt before he could grab it, a dark-blue blouse hitting the floor near his feet. He turned around and gasped. Silvia was on her knees in bed. The bra she wore was black—his favorite color!—the round curves of her breasts mostly, but not completely, hidden beneath shimmering fabric. “Wow,” he said. “Yours aredefinitelynicer than mine!”

“You can touch them,” she said. “But I’m not taking anything else off. And neither should you.”

---