Gravity

by Tal Bauer

“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.”

And he is— Calisse, he is everything I have been searching for.

This is the man I have been missing. Not my hero. Not the man from the posters on my teenage walls. The real Bryce, the man from midnights and empty drives and lonely rivers, and the man who looked me in the eyes and dared to risk everything because, somehow, I made his heart beat faster.

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.”

My eyes are open. He is my North Star.

“I just needed to tell you,” I'd said. “You needed to know. But you don't have to say anything back.”

Tu es la lumière de ma vie. Tu es l’homme de mes rêves, de ma vie. Tu es tout pour moi.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon amour.” My voice is more breath than sound, a whisper strained through silence. But these words have shape and weight, and they move from my lips to Hunter's ears. “Je t'aime de tout.” Then we're kissing again, and crying, and his tears slide down my face as he holds me tight and says to me, “Tu es le seul pour moi, mon amour.”

“Nous voulons prendre soin de lui comme il se soucie de toi, chéri,” Leo said.

“Je veux passer ma vie avec toi.” His lips are parted, shock painted on his face. “Hunter…” I kiss his fingers and smile. “Veux-tu m'épouser?” “Mais oui.” Bryce beams. “Mon Dieu, oui, oui, mon amour.”