Here is how to make a queer bed look straight:
start with little mentions of your “good friend” to your parents– speaking of your parents, savor your common ground whole it lasts, because as of right now, neither of you have realized that this is a crush situation. when you tell them about him, talk about the classes you take together and the books you both like. save those long form descriptions of his deep brown eyes, his lilting voice, and the way he moves like dust in sunlight for late night texts to your roommate, that big beautiful butch who keeps you from proposing to every brown-eyed boy you see.
once you have established a narrative of this “good friend” to your parents, start mentioning that you both like the same movies. then, with a coolness that conceals how many times you practiced this question in the shower, casually ask if he could come over to watch your copy of “there will be blood”. (you’d honestly rather watch Amelié, but Anxiety Brain convinced you that a french rom-com would blow your Heterosexual cover in an instant.) your parents will agree to the movie night without much thought, their general apathy rooted in a complete ignorance of the High Interpersonal Stakes you are facing here.
next, invite him over. this is actually the easiest part– he and his boyfriend have seen the movie a thousand times, so you know he’ll say yes. when you ask him to come over, say it with a warm and gentle sort of casualness, different from the rehearsal you gave your parents. use the same soft tone as he used the first time he held you close to his chest and whispered, low and sweet, “it’s okay to want this. it’s okay to need touch like water, like air.” ask him gently to come over and he will say yes to you.
watching the movie is not covered in this guide– this I leave you to work out on your own.
and now we get to the meat of our how-to guide. it gets late, and he asks to stay the night because his place is way out of town. your parents, still blind, set up an air mattress on the floor of your room with all the necessary props: an old comforter from the downstairs closet and a pillow stolen off the couch.
you will both ignore the mattress.
you will both ignore the mattress, and will instead slip into your bed. it is a queen bed, and it always felt a bit too big for you, and you liked it well enough that way. but now you feel like goldilocks with your arm wrapped around his waist and your face nuzzled into the nape of his neck, and every part of you fits into him perfectly, and in that split second before falling asleep you understand hibernation perfectly.
here is the final step: you will wake up long before your parents, and well before him. untangle yourself from his arms (with great reluctance) and begin the art of constructing a slept-on air mattress. first you must run your hand over the pillowcase, un-smoothing it. next you must mess up the comforter just so– a twist here, a corner tossed aside there. build the implication of a body that was not there. this is when he will wake up. he will ask what you are doing, and only half of “someone was supposed to sleep here” will leave your mouth before he nods– he has done this before.
let him make a brief comment to your parents about the surprising comfort of the air mattress his body never touched. then accept his offer of a ride to school, and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him at every stoplight you hit.