Getting It by Alex Sanchez

replied.
    â€œYou two
are
going gay, aren’t you?” Playboy quipped, but Carlos kept reading.
    â€¦ a boy who likes me for ME and is actually interested in ME! not just in wanting to get into my pants …
    Carlos wondered: Who on Earth could possibly be more interested in her than him? Although he’d like to get into her pants too.
    DISLIKES:
Selfish, uncaring, unhonest guys … Fakes and phonies, especially girls (ugh, that annoys me) … Ppl that give me 1’s (I’m not that ugly, am I?)
    Carlos couldn’t imagine anybody giving Roxy a one, except some bitter maniac like the friend next to him.
    â€¦ guys who just want sex … pervs, creeps, and annoying needy guys (get a life!)
    Carlos breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing he’d read had ruled him out. Yet even so, little blisters of nervous sweat began beading on his forehead.
    â€œYou going to e-mail her?” Pulga asked.
    â€œUm, not right now.” Carlos quickly rated her a ten before Playboy could give her any less.
    But Playboy had calmed down, moving to the mirror to study a blemish. “How can she have a nine-point-eight and I’m a four-point-eight?”
    â€œShe’s got better boobs,” Pulga answered.
    Playboy threw a hairbrush from the dresser at him, but Pulga ducked.
    â€œIt’s getting late.” Carlos faked a yawn. “I’m heading home.”
    â€œNah, don’t go,” Toro urged. “Let’s watch a DVD.”
    â€œYou
pendejos
want to spend the night?” Pulga asked.
    â€œI can’t,” Carlos replied. “I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.”
    â€œFor what?” Playboy flashed Carlos a glance in the mirror. “You got a brunch date with your boyfriend?”
    Carlos froze. Had his friends somehow found out about his Saturday mornings with Sal? Quickly, he replied, “My pa’s picking me up early.”
    Playboy pulled himself from the mirror and wrapped an arm around Carlos’s shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered in his ear. “Promise, when you get home, you’ll give me a ten. Okay, buddy?”
    â€œSure.” Carlos patted him on the back, feeling kind of sorry for him. Although at times he wondered if Playboy had any feelings at all—unless you considered horniness a feeling—in other moments (like now), it seemed there was more to Playboy than his swaggering exterior suggested.
    When Carlos arrived home, he did as he’d promised. Then he searched for Roxy’s profile. After giving her another ten, he stared at her picture on the screen for a good half hour, fighting an urge to kiss it. That would be way too silly.
    And yet, as he undressed, the urge grew uncontrollable. He clicked off the light, crept across the darkness to the monitor and tapped his lips to the screen, feeling supremely harebrained. Then he climbed into bed and, after a series of contented moans, drifted into dreamland.

Twenty-Four
    S ATURDAY MORNING, C ARLOS answered the door expecting Sal, but found that Sal had also brought along another boy who appeared to be the same age, though shorter and more muscled.
    â€œThis is Javier, my boyfriend.”
    Carlos’s brain reverberated with the word “boyfriend.” Although he recalled Sal mentioning it, the reality of an actual live person had never sunk in—till now.
    Having a gay
couple
in his home seemed almost too much to handle. He was now outnumbered. And besides, Sal was supposed to keep their makeover sessions a secret. On top of all that, Carlos felt something totally unexpected: He didn’t want to share Sal. He’d grown to enjoy his time with Sal
alone.
    â€œâ€™S’up?” Carlos shook hands with Javier, while giving Sal a sideways glare.
    But Sal didn’t seem to notice. “Javi is in cosmetology school—a hair master. I told him how you stood up to Harris and he wanted to meet you—your reward for helping out.”
    Lucky