He turns to the man next to him, who is finally looking straight into his eyes. ‘My name is Yassim,’ he says.

*

Jacob has never snuck into parks late at night or sought out many hook-ups on Grindr. How could he have? His ambitions have been higher and more narrowly defined. It’s not that he hasn’t fantasized about it; in high school it was the only thing he thought about while surfing restlessly on his phone in bed, the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. All the sites and images and films dampened it, allowing him to temporarily find release and some imitation of satisfaction. But to seek it out for real? Back then? It would have been impossible. It wasn’t until Uppsala and Simon that it actually… became real? And it wasn’t what he’d thought it would be. Not like this, whatever this is.

He looks around. He’s never been in a place like this one. He’s never seen a darkness that crackles and shivers and trembles like this. He breathes shallowly, cautiously, barely at all. He doesn’t really know why, but it’s as if a single deep breath might disrupt something fundamental, some law of nature, that has turned the world upside down.

He glances at the man sitting next to him, whose name is apparently Yassim. He has stubble on his chin, black, medium-length, wavy hair, a white T-shirt, well-worn jeans. He looks like a thousand other people, Jacob thinks. Why is this happening? What is it about Yassim? What is it about his gaze and voice that brought Jacob here, that makes him lose control and follow after a feeling he’s never experienced before?

When Yassim turns to him, Jacob doesn’t turn away like he did earlier. He meets his eyes. He holds his breath, and it’s as if blood no longer pumps through his body, as if everything is completely still. He clears his throat, tries to smile.

‘Those flowers are odd,’ Yassim says, and it’s barely more than a whisper. ‘Magnolias usually bloom in the spring.’

A gentle breeze Jacob didn’t notice before whispers through the top of the tree and a few white petals, soft as silk, land on his hand. There’s a swish as bats dive in under the high branches and disappear.