Tyler was being chauffeured in Greg's ancient Chevy Cavalier, as it trudged down Detroit Road toward the Cleveland Gay-Lesbian Center. Tyler was unconsciously grasping the armrest so tightly, that jaws-of-life might be needed to part the two. His stomach was flipping over itself again and again. His eyes stared ahead on the road, though they focused on nothing specific.

       Tyler was oblivious to the fact that few words had passed between he and Greg, during the ride. If he had noticed, he would have wondered why Greg was so silent. Greg often had a way of filling quiet uncomfortable moments with some conversation, or at least a few funny comments.

       Tyler was too consumed by worry over what was about to happen. It was a new experience for him. He had no idea of what to expect. He felt like his body was going to be engulfed by nothingness and that his hand on the armrest was the only thing that was keeping him from that void. Besides his hurting stomach, his hand was the only part of his body that still seemed to have sensory perception.

       "I think we're just about there." Greg's voice shattered Tyler's wall of nervousness, sucking him back into reality.

       "What?"

       "I said, I think we're close."

       "Oh."

       Greg reached over to grab Tyler's leg. "You, ok?" He asked, while shaking Tyler's leg.

       "Hunh?" He turned to look at Greg, seeing him smile back. "Oh, I'll be fine." However, he wondered if he would be fine. Tyler had not felt this jittery even when he had to give a speech at school.

       "That's it there." Greg pointed toward a building. "I'll turn around and come back and drop you off in front."

       Tyler stared at the building. There was one guy and one girl, both about his age, talking in front. The girl was flicking a cigarette butt onto the sidewalk. Tyler watched as their car passed.

       Greg turned the car to come back toward the building from the other direction. "Do you want me to go in with you?"

       Tyler looked at Greg. "Uh, no. I'll be fine." Tyler was already tense going to a gay youth group. Although, he did wish Greg could go with him, Tyler did not want others to think he was afraid and needed someone chaperone. "No, I can do this alone," he emphasized.

       Greg parked the car along the street in front of the Center. "Well, I'll be back to pick you up when it's over."

       "Ok." Tyler did not look up, but he could see, out of the corner of his eye, that the two standing in front were watching him.

       "Have fun, Ty!" Greg enthused.

       "Ok." He managed to smile at Greg. He opened the door and stepped out. His palm was sweaty from grasping the armrest. He tried to wipe it against his shirt and pants as he walked, to disguise the fact that he was wiping the sweat off his hand.

       Tyler felt pressure swelling in his chest rising quickly to his neck. He could feel the veins in his neck pulsing. He began to fear that he might choke. He struggled to smile to hide his tenseness. The tips of his fingers and toes were tingling. He knew Greg was still behind him in the car, watching. Tyler was not sure if that made him feel better or worse.

       As he reached the pair still standing in front, he increased his smile and opened his mouth. For a split second he wondered if his voice would still be able to function, considering the pressure throbbing in his neck. "Hi," he managed to say cheerily.

       "Hello."

       "Hi, ya."

       "Is this where PRYSM meets?"

       "Yeah, right inside," the girl replied.

       Tyler continued walking in, without breaking his stride. As he passed through the threshold, he realized he probably should have introduced himself, but it was too late. He tried to sneak one last glance at Greg, but did not wave goodbye.

       Inside the walls and shelves were filled with posters, ads, pamphlets, and papers. He saw someone in a room who seemed to immediately notice him, and started walking in his direction.

       She smiled at Tyler as she walked toward him. Tyler considered her to be tall for a girl. Although, she was also very thin, which probably emphasized her height. She looked older too. Tyler thought she might even be thirty. "Hi, I'm Jen," she said as she put out her hand. "Are you here for PRYSM?"

       "Yes." Tyler gave his hand one last swipe before reaching out to shake Jen's hand.

       "Great." Her smile faded into a slightly more serious facial expression. "We'll be starting in a few minutes. You already met Jason and Tina outside."

       "Hi." Jason and Tina responded in unison through the open doorway, after hearing their names.

       Tyler smiled back toward Jason and Tina. He was relaxing slightly, but he still felt uneasy. It was a lot to take in at once.

       "We meet in here." Jen gestured as she started walking back to the room she had come from.

       Tyler followed her. There were two boys his age already seated on the sofa in the room. Tyler thought both were kind of cute. Tyler felt he must be beginning to relax, if he was able to recognize so quickly that they were cute.

       Tyler could not tell exactly how tall the two of them were, since they were both seated. The one on the left was blonde. He was wearing a tank top, which was slightly too tight. Tyler did not mind the tight shirt though; it showed off the boy's body. He smiled at Tyler, a big toothy grin that made the boy look a little dull.

       The boy on the right however, looked more interesting. He had a perky, though somewhat mischievous smile, with deeply indented dimples in his cheeks. Tyler noticed his eyes were hazel, like Greg's. However, this boy's hazel eyes were striking because of his light-skinned black complexion. His eyes seemed to sparkle. Tyler felt like the boy's eyes were peering right through him.

       "Let me introduce you..." Jen paused.

       Tyler realized he had never supplied Jen with his name. "I'm Tyler."

       "...Tyler, good to meet you. This is Colin on the left."

       "Hi." The blonde gave a slight wave, while he stayed seated.

       "And this is Kiambu," she gestured to the remaining person on the couch.

       Kiambu rose from his seat, reaching out his hand to grasp Tyler's. "Hi, Tyler."

       "Hi,"

       Kiambu looked into Tyler's eyes, continuing to hold and softly shake his hand. "It's really nice to meet you."

       Meanwhile, somewhere in the southern suburbs of Cleveland, Thommy was racing to make his weekend class at Tri-C. He glanced into his rearview mirror, noticing the flashing lights, which matched the siren he had heard seconds prior. "Damn!" He exclaimed as he pulled his car to the side of the road.

       Thommy's stomach was doing summersaults. He watched the cop get out of his patrol car, through his rearview. He wished he had left earlier for school. "Why am I always late?!"

       Thommy began to reconsider his luck, when he noticed how attractive the police officer was. He was tall, at least 6' 2". He had a lean, but muscular body. His hair was dark and cut short. Thommy imagined rubbing his hands through that short hair. To top things off, the officer looked to be about Thommy's age.

       Thommy was able to catch quite a glimpse of this handsome man, through his mirror. By the time the officer had reached the driver's side door, Thommy had almost completely forgotten why he had pulled his car over. He stared up into the face of the man who was staring down at him. Thommy was wondering what color eyes the officer's sunglasses were hiding.

       "Driver's license, please." The officer's statement jolted Thommy back to the business at hand.

       "Was I speeding, sir?" Thommy asked in his most polite, damsel-in-distress voice, as he handed over his license. Thommy batted his eyelashes, as the officer glanced at the I.D. photo and Thommy's face. "I'm very sorry." Thommy was ready to pull out all the stops, enough to make Scarlett O'Hara roll her eyes.

       "You were going a little over," he answered dryly. "But that's not why I pulled you over. Is this your car?"

       "Yes, it is my car. Why did you pull me over then?" Thommy was a bit confused. "What was I doing wrong, sir?"

       The officer took his sunglasses off. Thommy's heart skipped a beat. His eyes were the most beautiful deep blue. "Well, Mr. Poppovich, were you aware that one of your brake lights is out?"

       "Oh, is that why?" Thommy began to feel relieved. He probably would not have to pay a ticket.

       "I followed you quite a ways before I decided to pull you over."

       "Oh, really..." Thommy did not quite understand what the cop meant by that statement. The officer did not say anything else. It was a dead uncomfortable silence. "Which light did you say?"

       "I didn't say. Is this address on your license current?"

       "Yes, sir. Am I getting a ticket?" Good looking or not, this policeman was beginning to use up too much of Thommy's time.

       "No, I'm not going to give you a ticket. And in answer to your other question, it's the light nearest your pride bumper sticker."

       "Beg pardon." Thommy whipped his head back to look at the officer. Thommy might have feared the cop's recognition of the pride sticker, except for the smirk on his face.

       "Then again, I may be forced to give you a ticket - if you were not compliant." The officer bent down, resting his chin and arms on the open car window. "That is - not compliant in accepting a date with me."

       Thommy was a bit shocked, though he quickly recovered. "Well, I don't know. Does this sort of offer fall under some strange category of police brutality?" Thommy resumed his flirtatious demeanor.

       "Perhaps... if you're lucky." The officer joked.

       "Are you busy next Saturday?" Thommy was thrilled that this gorgeous cop was interested in him.

       "What did you have in mind?"

       "I was supposed to go to Cedar Point with some friends. Would you like to go?"

       "Sounds good. Although, I hope I can wait that long to see you again."

       "Well, maybe we can arrange something before then." Thommy melted from the officer's stare, which seemed to penetrate to his core.

       "Let me give you my number." The officer jotted on a small piece of paper and stretched his hand in the car, leaving the paper on the dash. His hand brushed Thommy's arm as he drew it back. Electricity shot up Thommy's arm, from the touch.

       "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Poppovich." The officer shook his hand.

       "Please... call me Thommy."