Gravity

by Tal Bauer

I have my hands wrapped in a death grip around my stick, my eyes peeled as I stare sidelong at the Eighth Wonder of the World. The first wonder of my own personal world.

There’s something about watching a guy chasing melted cheese down his wrist that forces away the awkwardness, too.

Bryce: Salut! This is Bryce. The guy that wears your number. :)

He can trap me in his gravity pour toujours.

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.

Something tells me that I'll be marking time differently now. Hours spent in Hunter's arms, and then counting the hours until I can be in his arms again. Minutes since our last kiss, and minutes until we're tasting each other once more.

I will do anything to bring you the happiness That you have unchained within me

Weeks ago, I'd wondered: what does a secret like ours do to a team? Nothing, apparently. Nothing at all if we were never a secret and if we are more than a team. If we are family, then there aren't any secrets that need to be kept.

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

The only thing Ottawa has to decide is how they want to lose.

They've hung a banner across Bryce's living room, too. Bienvenu! Someone hand-painted it, but that someone looks like they have Shrek's penmanship.