Hallelujah

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Joshua can't put two sentences together as we make our way outside to join the congregation on the lawn for the last prayer. When his mom asks him if he's feeling all right, he says, "Yeah. New Year's." She looks at me and I shrug, trying to hide my pride over rendering her son catatonic with my kiss.

Before our families part ways, he pulls me aside and takes my hands in his.

"I need to talk to Ali," he says, his voice low. "Because I think it's the right thing to do. Maybe. I don't know. We're going out of town this week, so I won't see you until New Year's, but I'll be there for your party, and we can talk then. Because ... we should talk ... right?"

I lean in and press my mouth to the corner of his, so that anyone watching might mistake it for a cheek kiss. He inhales sharply and his hands move inside my coat, to my waist, for an instant, releasing a swarm of butterflies in my chest.

He kisses my cheek swiftly and pulls away. "Merry Christmas," he says. He turns and jogs toward his parents as they head to their car.

* * * * * 

That night Joshua comes to me in a dream. 

A vivid dream I can feel on my skin and taste on my tongue. 

He's different. 

Taller, broader. 

And his eyes aren't green. They're blue. 


We're in the balcony at church, under the sconce, against the wall, and we're naked. 

I see him. For the first time, I see ... all of him. 

He lets me touch him. And he touches me. 

He slides himself into me and we're close ... Oh God, we're so ... so close ...

My eyes snap open and I'm crashing, breathless, shuddering, gushing, a cold sweat on my neck and back, both hands balled into fists at my sides, and I'm ... I'm ... 

... finished.


My eyes dart to the clock on my bed table.

4:42 AM.

Holy shit.

That was a first.

* * * * *

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