And Gabriel. Gabriel knows, and Gabriel likes it.

He takes a step toward me and kisses me hard, like he needs to more than he wants to. I’m a mass of contradictions. Of live wires, electricity, and conga drums. Of caffeine and cotton candy.

His hand slips up the side of my shirt, and my muscles spasm against his fingers. The sky spins like I’m going to pass out, the brick wall of the townhouse the only thing holding me up.

This is different from being in the club. This is different from anything.

There was a boy in music class my last year at St. Sebastian’s. His name was Eli, and he had a light Afro that he was forever combing with a pick. His skin was so smooth that I used to stare, wanting to reach out and touch it, and his voice was so soft I always found myself leaning toward him to listen. We stayed after school one day to help decorate the gym for the band concert and found ourselves standing behind stage when the lights suddenly cut. The only way out was on the other side of the room. We couldn’t see a thing.

He took my hand and started to walk, but it felt like something more than two boys guiding each other through the dark. Or maybe it was exactly that. Maybe we saw something in each other that we each needed to see, and we were trying to help each other.

We both hesitated before pushing the door open. In the darkness, I was aware of him leaning in toward me, close enough to feel his heat, drawing me in.

And then the power came back on.

Eli’s family moved, and he transferred out a week later.

I always wondered what it would have been like to kiss him.

But I know now that it wouldn’t have been like this. Gabriel tastes like cinnamon, and kisses me in a way I feel with my whole body. In a way that pushes reset on my world.

Some guy walks by and grunts “fags” under his breath, but I don’t care. I’m falling, falling, falling. Feeling like I’m part of this city. Feeling like I’m part of myself. Feeling like being with Gabriel at this specific moment in time is my reason for being born.

Feeling like there’s no damn reason for the whole world not to see us.

When we stop kissing and catch our breath, when the rain stops and we walk around, when shift change comes and yellow cabs flood the street, Gabriel says, My papa drove a cab. He was the best. He was always working. But he never missed a single one of my gymnastic meets. He sat in the front and yelled so loud he embarrassed me. I used to tell him, Stop, Papa. Can’t you just clap like everyone else’s parents? But I didn’t really mean it. The first time I tried to compete after he died, I fell off the high bar. No matter what I did, I couldn’t hold my grip. It wasn’t important anymore.