I’m going back to Boston tomorrow, River continues, but his voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere far away. I’m not trying to be presumptuous, he says, but I can’t get involved or anything.

The whole year seems to hit me all at once, just as the lava lamp sends swirls of pink and purple over River’s elegant face.

I’m not my brother. I’d never want to be so out there. But maybe Connor isn’t the only one allowed to do something simply because it feels good once in a while.

And more than anything, this feels good. River has moved, and he’s standing so close to me I can feel him pressed against me in a million different places, and I know I should be nervous and I am, but it’s like I can’t really feel that. All I feel is River. All I want to feel is him.

Then he steps back, and I feel a strange sort of cold, of hunger, and I place my hand flat on his chest.

Michael, he breathes out, and I know, somehow, that I could walk away now and he’d still be cool, and I know that I’d be an idiot not to be afraid. But I still don’t believe that hiding from the world is the way to deal with anything. Not for me, anyhow.

I take a deep breath and walk over and lock the door.

Everything about River is relaxed. He’s considerate and confident and sexy as hell. And it’s almost like he’s memorized the pamphlet in Connor’s old apartment, because while we do a lot of the things I read about and imagined trying with Gabriel, he’s got condoms and follows all the other safety ideas it suggested.

He doesn’t do anything to point out how inexperienced I am. And because I know I’m unlikely to see him again, I’m less inhibited than I was with Gabriel. It’s easy to touch him. Easy to let him touch me.

When he tells me, after, that he’d be happy if I spent the night and crashed with him, it’s easy to say yes.

But none of that keeps thoughts of my missed chances with Gabriel out of my head, and I barely get any sleep.

In the morning, River asks me for my address so he can send me postcards from Europe.

Filled with guilt over my thoughts of Gabriel, I panic and give him Becky’s address instead.

I stumble out of the apartment, Polo on my skin, dizzy with sex and the realization that my parents are going to kill me for staying out all night without even calling.

The sun is burning down hot for September and reflecting off the pavement as I walk crosstown, so I take my shirt off and tie it around my waist.

I pass early morning joggers in the park and smile at the idea that they can see the shadow of River’s mouth on my skin.

I’ve had sex. Sex with a boy, and I liked it, so hey world, here I am.