A cyclist passes by, ringing his bell, reminding them that they are actually outdoors, in public. Neither wants to stop. But there is an empty flat somewhere with a bed and somehow, while still kissing her, Willem manages to unlock his bike.

Allyson had thought riding sidesaddle with Wren was fun, but with Willem it is something else altogether. She remembers the illegal bike ride in Paris, when she sat in the seat and he pumped in front of her and how much she’d wanted to touch him. She hadn’t. She wouldn’t. And then they’d gotten pulled over by the police. But this, here, is perfectly legal. And there is a place for her to sit, and she can wrap her arms around his waist all she wants. She can nuzzle against his back and lick his vertebrae if she wants to. (She does, so she does.)

At the stoplights, she hops off the bike and he turns to her and they start kissing again and sometimes stay that way until the light turns green and cyclists and motos beep at them to get out of the way.

It is a torturously labored ride home like this. Allyson is desperate for it to end and would like for it to go on forever.

Willem is just desperate for it to end. He is so full of wanting that it is painful and Allyson keeps lifting his shirt and licking his back, which she shouldn’t do while he’s riding a bike because he might pass out. (But she shouldn’t stop, either.)

And finally they are back outside his flat and he can barely keep his hands steady to lock his bike and he is about to attack her in the hall when he remembers condoms. He doesn’t have any, hasn’t needed any in months, so he drags her to a store that’s still open and he buys a three pack.

“Get the nine pack,” Allyson says, and he almost explodes right there.

And then they are outside his building. And fuck because Mrs. Van der Meer is downstairs walking her dog and he doesn’t want to make small talk with her, but they do and he introduces Allyson, and Mrs. Van der Meer wants to talk to her about her trip to California back in 1991 and Willem has to position Allyson in front of him because it is like being twelve-years-old again, the lack of self control he has, but also at least with Allyson standing in front of him, against him, it’s bearable (and it is also unbearable).

Mrs. Van der Meer’s dog yanks on the leash and she goes out and they go in and he can’t even wait. They are on the stairs and she is under him and he’s got that wrist of hers in his mouth (finally!) but it’s not enough, he wants all of her (the feet!) and they both know they need to make it up to Daniel’s flat but the last stretch is the hardest, but somehow they do and Willem can’t find his key and at this point he is going to take her in the hall because he doesn’t care, and honestly, neither does she, but then she remembers she has the key! He gave her the key. It’s in her back pocket.

They don’t even take the key out of the lock. They don’t even make it off of the floor.

A year is a long time to wait.

And Allyson and Willem, they feel like they’ve been waiting a lot longer.

Only later, after they have pulled the key out of the lock and put back on their clothes only to take them off again and try things more slowly this time and are having a 3 a.m. snack in Willem’s bed, do things calm down enough for them to talk. They talk about things like birthdays and ice-cream flavors (March, August, chocolate for both) and scars (he fell on the deck of his family’s houseboat, the one his father built; he has much to tell her about Bram). They speak of Willem’s apprenticeship and Allyson’s college. They spend a fair amount of time discussing the geography and transportation options of the American Northeast.

“Four hours from New York to Boston on the bus,” Allyson says. “One hour to Philadelphia on the train.”

“I like trains,” Willem says as he nibbles her ear. “Busses, too.”

“And I could come to Brooklyn on weekends,” Allyson says shyly. Only not that shyly. Her hand is drifting down under the covers. Willem is glad she steered him away from the three pack. “And October is like nothing.”

“It’s practically tomorrow,” Willem murmurs.

“I think today has become tomorrow.” Allyson pauses. “Which means I’m supposed to fly home today. I have to get myself to Heathrow in like ten hours. Is that even possible?” (She hopes it isn’t possible.)

“Anything is possible,” Willem says. “You can take a train, or one of the budget airlines. Though we should probably book something now.”

He thinks about reaching for his computer, but at that moment, her hand has reached what it was looking for and he is useless. He closes his eyes. The girl he sees behind his lids is the girl who is in his bed. He has no desire to do anything to send her away.

Last year in Paris, she asked him to stay on with her, for just one day. He had wanted to, but he’d been ambivalent, too. And that ambivalence had cost him.

Or maybe it hadn’t. He thinks of what Kate and Wolfgang said. Maybe last year wasn’t their time. But now is. He knows it. Right in his kishkes.

“Do you have to go back right away?” he asks her.

She has the flight booked. And school starts in September. Though September is not for a few weeks, and flights can be changed.

“Can’t you stay,” Willem begins. “For just one—?”

Allyson doesn’t wait for him to finish the question—hour, day, week—because her answer is the same.

“Yes.”