James moves first, pays, and hands the paper to me. I rifle through the pages and then scan the article quickly.

This time there is no mention of James’s cheekbones. This time there is no photo of him in suspenders. This time there are only words, and the ones that stand out are these: Important. Stunning. Necessary.

Becky pulls us both into a hug and doesn’t let go.

I can feel James relax. The tightness in his arms loosen.

For all of the shit that she and James give each other, this is who we are.

Becky Kaplan is our heart. James Barrows is our soul.

At some point, I need to figure out what role I play.

Gabriel isn’t at Echo when I get there, but Brian waves me over to the bar and hands me an envelope.

What’s this? I ask.

I don’t read ’em, I just deliver ’em, he says, and starts washing some glasses that are still stacked up from the night before.

I move to the wall. Hold the envelope up in the blue light. Examine my name written in straight, sharp letters. A thin knife of a line scored underneath.

I feel something that resembles possibility. As if anything could be written inside. But then doubt kicks in. It could be bad news. Or a joke.

I rip open the envelope and slice my finger along the edge.

A quick drop of blood forms, and I suck it away before anyone can see.

At the moment, a gun would cause less panic in New York City than a gay boy bleeding.

My finger wrapped in a napkin, I pull the photo from the envelope.

The Polaroid girl caught me staring up into the lights. Next to me, Gabriel is all muscles and innuendo, and he’s looking at me as if I’ve said something profound and interesting.

I flip the photo over and read, in Gabriel’s loopy writing,

Worth stopping the world for.

There was “before Gabriel” and there’s “now.” Places and times in my life he didn’t fit into, and places defined simply because I knew he existed.

I was seeing him. I’d just seen him. I was counting the days until I could talk to him to decide when I was seeing him next.

How do you know when you’re in love? I ask, although I suspect I know the answer because I know how I feel when I’m with Gabriel.

It isn’t love, Becky says. You just want to get into his pants and he just wants to get into yours, and I’m not even sure that love exists.

You don’t have to be so cynical, James says.

Becky glares at him. Oh, what do you know? she asks and storms out of the room.

My parents are going out of town for two days.

Thirty-two hours to be exact, but that includes a night. An entire night.

My mother says, I guess you’re old enough to stay on your own, but you’ll remember to call your brother if you need anything?