Just because I’m not out here throwing myself around like Caleb, it’s weird? If his sex life is anything like it appeared to be in high school, he’s basically a walking science experiment. So, no thank you. That’s not my vibe.

Unlike him, sex means something to me. Always has. It’s something you share with someone and hang on to. It’s supposed to be meaningful. Something you treasure with someone you really care about. Or at least, that’s what I think. I guess that makes me different. Or maybe just… stuck.

All these thoughts are making me want to find Sarah faster. For clarity. For answers. For—God, maybe even for sex? Ugh. Caleb’s in my head again and I hate it.

I storm after him as he slips through the crowd, his back straight and confident like always. Apparently, we’re heading to Church Street where Pride is in full swing.

Honestly? It’s not a bad idea. Sarah’s bisexual, and this kind of thing is totally her scene. But still, how the hell are we supposed to find her in all of this?

The crowd is massive, shoulder-to-shoulder with glitter and neon and rainbow flags. The thump of bass shakes the pavement under my feet. The air smells like cotton candy, street food, and bubblegum body spray and somewhere, someone’s blowing bubbles into the sky.

At least Caleb’s height makes him easy to follow. We’re both tall, so weaving through the crowd isn’t too hard. I’ve even caught a few shorter people following us through the crowd as we make a path in our travel. I keep my eyes locked on his back as he pivots and weaves effortlessly. The way his shirt shifts as he moves—thin linen, open at the front—reveals just enough of his tanned, muscular back to make my stomach do that stupid flip again.

God, I hate that.

With a toothpick tucked lazily into the corner of his mouth, he glances over his shoulder to make sure I’m still behind him. When our eyes meet, he smiles like he knew I’d follow. Of course he does.

"Come on. Keep up," he calls, reaching back for my wrist.

I move to pull away, but he catches me too quickly. His skin is warm, hot from the sun, and I shiver at the sudden contact. This weather is already frying my brain and now his hand is not helping.

Music blares from every direction as we move through a parade of joy and bodies and celebration. His hand stays locked around my wrist. And I know I should feel shy or embarrassed about it, but weirdly… I don’t. Not here.

Here, two guys walking hand-in-hand doesn’t even raise an eyebrow.

It actually calms me a bit. Everyone’s just being. Queer dynamics of all different types just having fun and enjoying each other. Hands holding hands. Laughter rising like confetti into the sky. It's loud and chaotic, but at the same time—comforting.

Sure, New York has Pride too, but being not gay, I’ve never been. And it’s not like I’m not an ally or anything, I just…I guess I never thought it was my place to go. But damn, the energy is contagious here. Like love and freedom are spilling into the streets. I think I’d like to come back.