* * *

  —

  All they do is sway. It is the most natural motion in the world.

  The wind does it. The tide does it. Other couples do it.

  Ryan and Avery do it, too.

  * * *

  —

  They have each found something, and they have each found someone.

  Both at the same time.

  * * *

  —

  “There you are!”

  At first Avery doesn’t hear it, but then Lana is at his side, asking where everyone else has gone.

  Avery pulls back from Ryan, just a little bit. And Lana reacts as if Avery was hiding Ryan this whole time, as if he wasn’t right there holding him.

  “Oh!” she says. “Who is this?”

  “This,” Avery replies, “is Ryan.”

  The dance floor is too crowded for Ryan to retreat entirely, but Avery sees him shy away.

  “Hi, I’m Lana!”

  “Hi.”

  Lana turns back to Avery. “Have you seen everyone else?”

  Avery takes hold of Ryan’s hand, so he won’t shy away too far.

  “No,” he tells Lana. “I’ve been here. And I’m going to stay here. I’m sure they’re around, though.”

  Avery barely knows Lana. But he relies on her understanding.

  He sees it click—Lana stepping out of her own situation to see Avery’s.

  She smiles. “Got it. If I see them, I’ll tell them you’re here. We’ll let you know if there’s anything for you to know.”

  “Thank you,” Avery says. Then he turns back to Ryan, squeezes his hand, tries to return them to the song.

  “Do you have to go?” Ryan asks. “I mean, it’s okay if you have to go.”

  “But it’s more okay if I stay, right?”

  “I think so? I mean, if it’s more okay for you, it’s definitely more okay for me.”

  Teeter. Teeter. Emotionally, Ryan is the kid on his bike leaning on its training wheels. He doesn’t know what will happen when they fall off. Will he fall, too?

  Avery takes his other hand. The DJ returns to a fast song, a song everyone loves. There’s a cheer and an eruption of bright movement around them. They stand there looking at each other, their arms an imperfect circle.

  “I’m glad I’m here,” Avery says.

  When the training wheels fall off, the thing you have to do is pedal forward. Pedal like you know it will work. That way, you don’t fall. That way, you soar.

  Ryan lets himself believe Avery.

  Inside the song, they soar.

  The DJ does not relent. He knows which songs have that magic to them, the ones that lift you to the mountaintop and show you the view. The dancers cede their heartbeats to the greater thrum. They are awash in smiles and sweat and soul. The sweetest deliverance is a shared deliverance, and in this ugly municipal center, about a hundred teens from a hundred-mile radius are reaching for the beauty and attaining it. Their cares, their fears, their petty dramas can’t help but fall away as the music draws them to a pure elevation. For three minutes, five minutes, they can love the entire world, because the entire world is right here in front of them, and it’s vibrant.

  Ryan and Avery ride these songs together. Their touch, their hold, their smiles, the opening of their eyes and the closing—all of it makes these moments shared, makes their experience of each other inseparable from their experience of the music.

  There is no better place to be.

  * * *

  —

  Time can be counted in the number of songs that pass…but who’s counting?

  * * *

  —

  Finally, there is the comedown, the song that doesn’t quite live up to the others. Ryan becomes aware of the sheen across his forehead, the trickle down his back. Avery catches his breath. They both look a little worn out, but not disagreeably so.

  “Want to step outside for a second?” Avery asks.

  “Sure,” Ryan says. “I can give you a tour.”

  Immediately, he’s worried he’s going to run into people from town, people who’ll want to stop and talk, who’ll want introductions. (He doesn’t know that Alicia, seeing what is happening with the pink-haired boy, has told everyone else to give them space.)

  They stop at a water fountain. After Avery guzzles down as much as he can from its tepid offering, he asks, “Is there a pool here? Is that what I smell?”

  “Yeah,” Ryan says. “I’ll show you.”

  It only takes a few turns for them to be away from everyone else, for the sound of the dance hall to move offshore. The first stairway they come to is locked, but the second one isn’t, so Ryan can lead Avery down to the basement.

  “Have you lived in Kindling your whole life?” Avery asks.

  “Yup. So I’ve been coming here for as long as I can remember. A couple of the rich families in town have their own pools, but most of us use this one. I remember coming as a kid in the winter, and how weird it would be to step outside and have my hair freeze. I’m sure that wasn’t healthy, but I’d do it on purpose, you know? Leave my hair wet, just so I could see if I’d get icicles when I stepped outside. I was that kid.”

  “Makes total sense to me.” Avery can tell the pool is getting nearer because the chlorinated smell is overpowering, almost ammonia-level.

  “We have to go in this way,” Ryan says, gesturing to a door that says Men’s Changing Room. Avery follows him in and it’s super eerie—a bare-minimum fluorescence keeping the lockers and the shower stalls from total darkness.

  “Who knew these rooms could get even scarier?” Avery jokes.

  “Sorry,” Ryan says. “We’re almost there.”

  He hurries them forward to the source of the scant light—a swinging door that luckily opens when it’s pushed. The pool is lit from below, so it first looks like it’s the entire floor of the room, a gently wavering blue.

  “Ta-da!” Ryan says. He sounds relieved to find it’s still here, that he hasn’t let Avery down.

  “Lo and behold,” Avery replies.

  There isn’t anywhere for them to sit; this isn’t the kind of pool that people lounge next to in deck chairs.

  Ryan feels self-conscious. Is this really the best he has to offer? What is he doing?

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s really just a pool.”

  “I like it.”

  “Why?”

  Avery laughs. “I don’t know why. I like that it’s just us here. I like seeing you in this light.”

  “You don’t have to be nice.”

  “What?”

  Ryan feels like he might as well throw himself in the pool.

  “I’m so bad at this,” he confesses. Then he looks down, because he doesn’t want to see Avery’s reaction.

  Avery steps closer. “I think we’re at the point where you don’t get to be the one who decides whether you’re good or bad at this.” He touches Ryan’s arm; Ryan looks up. “I think this is turning out to be an amazing first date.”

  Ryan is so surprised, all he can do is echo, “First date?”

  Avery takes his hand again. “Yes. And don’t forget the other part. An amazing first date.”

  “But you live hours away.”

  “That’s no reason to stop, is it? I mean, there has to be a second date, right?”

  Ryan doesn’t understand why he can’t accept this, why he can’t just say yes, of course of course of course. It’s like he can’t trust his own happiness. It’s like he’s already forgotten his ability to soar.

  But. Something good must have happened, because something has enabled his hope to be stronger than his doubt.

  Avery’s presence certainly helps.

  The response takes a little longer than either of them would like. As Ryan’s heart builds momentum, Avery’s approaches a dip.

  Just in time, Ryan says, “I would love a second date. Like, tomorrow. What are you doing tomorrow?”

  Avery smiles. “I think I’m having a second date with you.”

  At this moment, two things happen: Avery’s phone vibrates, and a light goes on behind a door on the other side of the pool, which Avery assumes is the women’s changing room.

  “Maybe we should go,” Ryan says.

  “Goodbye, pool,” Avery says.

  And Ryan, not holding back, takes on a goofy voice and says on the pool’s behalf, “Goodbye, Avery.”

  Avery laughs, and Ryan loves the sound.

  * * *

  —

  Back in the stairway, Avery checks his phone.

  “What is it?” Ryan asks.

  “It’s my friends. I think they want to go soon. Because of the drive back.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m going to tell them we’re getting in one last dance.”

  * * *

  —

  Normally, the word last would make Ryan sad. But already he’s feeling a strange trust in the future.

  This time when they dance, they notice everyone around them. They recognize that they are a bunch of queer kids dancing in the middle of nowhere, finding somewhere. It ties them a little bit more to everywhere.

  * * *

  —

  In two minutes, they will exchange phone numbers. In eight minutes, Avery will be back in Lana’s van, everyone asking him for every detail about the blue-haired boy. In five minutes, Ryan will finally look at his phone and see that Alicia has been aware of him the whole time. In twelve minutes, she’ll meet him out by his truck, will ask him how he is. At first, he’ll just shake his head, not having any idea where to begin, but grateful that she, too, saw it, that there’s no way it was only a dream. In fifteen minutes, Ryan will send Avery his first text, saying what a great time he had. In sixteen minutes, Avery will text back, seconding the emotion.

  But now…

  Inside the song that carries them, they find the word free. They dance to that word more than any other. At one point, they dance as if it’s a slow song, even though it’s a fast song. Then they return to the beat. They jump together, swirl together, hold together. Everything feels lighter than air.

  It doesn’t feel like a last dance at all.

  Derivation

  (the tenth date)

  On his way home from the cast party, Ryan realizes there is no way he can go home. He has to see if it’s possible to be happy without paying for it in sadness afterward. He can’t step from time spent with Avery to time spent with his parents. He cannot put himself in a position of being so unrelentingly misunderstood. He’s explained himself enough. They don’t want to hear it. Which is why there’s no going back.

  He drives to Caitlin’s. His texts to her have gone unread, so he rings the doorbell and wakes her up. She takes one look at him and knows exactly what the situation is. He’s aware she’s been trying to avoid the position he’s putting her in. The door opens anyway. She hugs him before he can even put his bags down. They don’t talk it over; she doesn’t try to persuade him otherwise. She just gets the sheets from the closet and leaves them on the couch. She says she loves him, and that she’ll see him in the morning.

  He thanks her. He doesn’t say for what, but they both know.

  * * *

  —

  At two in the morning, Ryan texts Avery:

  Are you free next Saturday to help me move my stuff to Caitlin’s?

  Avery’s response is instant.

  Of course.

  * * *

  —

  Avery is supposed to spend Saturday with his own parents. After all the rehearsals and his time away with Ryan, they’ve been looking forward to some family time. Avery knows this. But he also knows he has to be in Kindling. Ryan is doing something momentous and wants Avery there. That matters more.

  Avery assumes his parents will be sympathetic. Still, he waits until Friday at dinner to tell them what’s going on.

  He explains as much as he can without feeling like he’s invading Ryan’s privacy. He tells them he’s been texting and talking with Ryan all week, preparing. Ryan’s been trying to go through all the usual motions of school without thinking too much about the reckoning that’s about to occur, but even Avery can hear its drumbeat.

  “I said I’d be there,” Avery lets his parents know. “I promised I’d be there.”

  In response, Avery’s mom and dad share a long look, and he understands that he has inadvertently continued a conversation they’ve been having without him. His dad puts down his fork; his mom looks at him gently, but also with concern.

  “Honey,” she says, “we’ve made plans for tomorrow, remember? For the three of us? We’re going to take a drive to have lunch at that French place in Wickham that Ramona liked so much, and stop at Donna’s studio to look at her new sculptures. She’s looking forward to seeing us.”

  They could leave it there. It’s enough of an argument.

  Instead Avery’s dad takes the conversational baton and adds, “It’s not just that, Avery. Your mother and I both like Ryan a lot, and we’re very happy the two of you have found each other. But because we’re your parents, we also want to be sure that your relationship doesn’t take over your life. We know how all-consuming love can be at your age, especially with the right person. But you can’t let anything be all-consuming right now. You have to keep parts of yourself open, give yourself a little space to grow.”

  “You can see him next weekend,” Avery’s mom says. “You can invite him here. We’d love to spend more time with him. But this weekend, you need to take a break. You’ve already made plans with us—and even if you hadn’t, we’d still be suggesting you take a break. It will make things better in the long run, I promise. And a long run with Ryan is what you’re after, isn’t it? That’s certainly how it’s seemed.”

  Avery knows how lucky he’s been that his parents have always been on his side. Even though there were times he had to be patient with them, even though there were times they said the wrong things or even did the wrong things because they thought they were the right things, they never made him doubt himself at an existential level, never made him regret being who he was. But now, it feels, they’re telling him he’s going too fast.

  “I know we have plans,” he concedes. “And I’m really sorry about backing out of them. I wish I could be in two places at once. But we can go to the French place or go see Donna’s studio any day—we could even do it Sunday! But tomorrow I really have to be with Ryan. He needs me.”

  Avery’s mom’s gentle tone doesn’t change when she says, “I know it’s hard to understand, but you haven’t known each other long enough to need each other. Or at least you shouldn’t need each other, not yet. I’m not saying it won’t happen—I actually think it will happen for the two of you. But in time. Over time. As you get to know each other, as you get to know each other’s lives, you will grow to need him, and he will grow to need you, until you get to the point that the need will be so much a part of your life that you will think of it as inseparable from who you are. Your father and I know what that’s like. But that need—it can take so much from you, Avery. It gives and gives, but it also takes. Which is why we’re asking you to approach it slowly.”

  Avery understands what she’s saying, in the abstract. But what Ryan’s going through isn’t abstract. It’s real.

  “Mom, Ryan’s not asking me to go to a party with him. He’s getting his things to move out of his house. Whether you like it or not, I’m his boyfriend, and I should be there.”

  “We like it, Avery,” his dad says. “Listen to us, okay?”

  “We sympathize with what Ryan’s going through,” Avery’s mom continues. “Obviously. But what we’re saying is that with something so big, he needs to be able to do it whether you’re there or not. He’s taking control of his own life, and that’s a good thing. But he can’t take control of his life fully if he’s relying on you to help him do it. I know it’s hard for you to see that—you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t want to be there, and that heart of yours is in exactly the right place. But you need someone outside that heart to give you some caution, some perspective. And that job falls to us.”

  It would be simple for Avery to scream. To let all the emotions amplify into a storm—incomprehension that his parents could be so wrong, anguish that he might actually let Ryan down at such a moment, frustration at waiting for so long to love someone only to be told to slow down. In a flash, Avery realizes that if he were Ryan, and these were Ryan’s parents, that is exactly what he’d do: unleash the indignation and let it bite whatever it wants to bite.

  But these are his parents, looking at him with a concern that is, at the very least, sincere. So he doesn’t pound the table. He doesn’t push back his chair. He doesn’t even raise his voice when he says, “I need to be there. If you don’t understand why, that’s fine. I apologize again for screwing up our plans. I hope we’ll still get to do them another day. As for tomorrow—I don’t think you’re going to try to stop me, are you?”

  Avery’s mom and dad don’t need to look at each other to consult.

  “No,” Avery’s dad says. “We’re not going to stop you.”

  “We’re just going to hope you listen to us anyway. We want you to be careful.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Avery promises, even though he’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to be careful about.

  His parents are disappointed in him; he can tell. And he’s disappointed in them, as they surely know.

  The subject is dropped, but it remains the only subject in the room.