“All right?” Robbie says with a soft laughing tone. He isn’t sure how to unpack his feelings enough to really respond. No, it’s not all right to never kiss the person you’re dating, not to Robbie’s inner teenaged self, who represents the totality of his dating experience.

That Robbie would’ve thought that kissing was great but the idea of kissing Vance was weird. The Robbie of six months ago would have said he was not part of that dance anymore. Male or female had ceased to be relevant. The calculations of dating and fondness don’t allow for people like him.

But this Robbie is half a year removed from regular external reminders of his failings. He has slacked on punishing himself and finds that he can no longer use his sins as a reason to never kiss someone.

Now, when he tries to think of a reason that will tell him what to do, there’s only the warmth engulfing his hand and cooling on his cheek, quite separate from the heat of the blush. Robbie thinks he knows what he would like to do.

“No, it’s not all right,” he said carefully. He doesn’t want to put Vance on edge, but Robbie feels like he has to telegraph a warning of what he’s about to try. Because it is trying, it’s an experiment with two subjects who are too involved to be clinical. “I won’t get you stuck in a monkmance if I decide I don’t like the physical side.”

With an impetuous speed that would’ve made teenaged Robbie proud, he stepped forward, straight into a kiss, before he could tell himself how much he didn’t deserve it. It’s a near miss, because he’s already telling himself what a bad idea it when his lips crash into Vance’s. It wouldn't be any easier with weeks and a date under his belt; the pressure to not disappoint would only get worse.

So he kisses the boy and doesn't intend to stop until they both figure out if they like it.