"You adore me." Micah practically dances in place, all irrepressible glee. (You hear that, Calvin? That's the total dissolution of your ability to stop Micah from doing something stupid.) He knows Calvin likes him now. Likes him, likes him. He felt tongue! Micah is still grinning stupidly at him when a high-pitched whistling fills the air—the first of the fireworks, launching into the sky.

He grabs Calvin again, but with less force. One hand on Calvin's shoulder and the other in his hair, too gentle to pull, as he moves up onto his toes to kiss him for the second time. He doesn't let go until he feels Calvin's arms wrap around his waist again, even as he sees the bright flashes behind his closed eyes, and hears the awed excitement of the spectators. He doesn't want to let go ever, but unfortunately, oxygen is a thing.

"Look at that," Micah says. He doesn't take his eyes off of Calvin. "Fireworks."