Gravity

by Tal Bauer

This is already the best night of my life, and I haven't even laced up my skates yet.

Bryce Michel is skating out under a swirl of spotlights. It’s like seeing God.

Bryce moves in a world beyond mine, at the peak of perfection. He’s too high.

“I have watched you play for two years. C'est bon de te rencontrer enfin.”

I could faint. I could also puke, right onto the ice, right between his skates. “Hi,” I squeak. “I wear your number.” “Enchanté.” Bryce's grin grows. “I wear your number, too.”

No stop im obsessed

“Do you want to skate together?” Oh, shit.

It’s like fucking magic. Like how it felt the first time I put on skates and took to the ice. Like it’s the first pass I ever caught, the first pass I ever sent. It's perfection.

What do you wear to dinner with your hero?

“I was going to go out to Red Rock Canyon. It’s only half an hour away, but it feels like you have teleported to Mars.”

This weekend?” He looks me in the eyes. “It’s going to be the highlight of my career. I already know that.” It is already the highlight of my life. Meeting him, and having these minutes and moments together. Every pass we made on the ice that electrified this bond between us, every time our gazes met, every inhale that’s caught inside me as I look at him and imagine.

I want him to keep talking forever. I never want this night to end, because I've clicked with Bryce in a way I rarely do with anyone.

I tried to push this away, and I tried to not want, and I tried to be different.

I fell in love with my hope, and I hoped for him.

Dangerous excitement whirlpools around me, and everyone is talking and moving quickly, like they can’t hold back their nervous energy.

I don’t know how to stop this fall. I don’t know how to stop dreaming of who I can never have. I don’t know how to stop this pain, or stop it from spreading to everyone and everything that I touch.

This hurts so fucking badly, but I shove the pain away. Focus. Your broken heart is not important. What did I expect from impossible dreams, anyway?

done. But now you are here. You are in my thoughts and right in front of me. You are in my dreams and in the dressing room. I cannot escape you. Or what I feel about you.”

“Calisse… I cannot breathe, Hunter. I'm drowning. I feel like I'm screaming underwater and there's no one around to pull me to shore.”

He looks too much like he does in my dreams when my imagination of him whispers, “Je te desire. Mon coeur bat la chamade pour toi.”

“Tu parles français?” “I’m learning.” A kiss to my shoulder. “I want to speak French with you.” Another kiss. “I want to do everything with you.”

He is my North Star.

Kissing him is like a first morning skate on fresh ice, or a perfect shot on goal that bends the net. It's a rush, jolts of perfection sliding up my veins and burrowing into my brain. I kiss him once and instantly want more, and more.

He's still smiling. I'm still dying.

I'm quickly becoming addicted to him.

The world is silent. Inside this room, inside this bed, it is quiet enough to hear Hunter's heartbeat, and the sound lulls me into doux et beaux rêves.

I am Bryce's biggest fan. He's the brightest star in my sky, a man I look up to not only as the best athlete in my sport, but because he is an incredible human being. He still is my hero, not because he plays hockey or because he is the next Great One. He is my hero because he is Bryce.

“Je veux être avec toi pour toujours.” I want to be with you forever.

We kiss until the world fades, until dizziness threatens to pull me under.

“Mon amour, mon amour. Don't fight. We're trying to help you.”

Mon amour, it's agonizing to be here while you are there. I want to be by your side every moment of our lives. I wish I could place my heart and soul in your hands and live forever as close to you as I can be.

“I love you,” I whisper. He draws a heart on my chest and kisses the center of it.

“Tu es dans tous mes rêves.” You are in every one of my dreams.

Later, when we're falling asleep in each other's arms, Bryce draws a never-ending heart on my chest. He draws and draws and holds me tight, his finger moving until his movements slow and he surrenders to sleep. And the first thing I feel when I wake up is his finger drawing hearts on my chest.

“N'oubliez pas de vous aimer,”

“Je veux passer ma vie avec toi.”