At the park, Xiomara and Aman “sit on a bench with more / than our forearms ‘accidentally’ rubbing” (95) and listen to music for an hour. Afterwards, they walk to the train holding hands, and Xiomara is “truly thankful / that this city has so many people to hide” her (96).

In several poems about Xavier, Xiomara describes him as “the only boy I will ever love” (97) because he is “the best boy I know” (97). He is also “the worst Dominican” (98) because he doesn’t worry about looking cool or any of the other concerns that weigh on a stereotypical teenage boy. Xavier goes to a school for gifted students, so “his book smarts meant / I couldn’t even copy his homework” (99). Though the twins are close, “[h]e doesn’t get sympathy pains” (100), but “every now and then, he’ll say, in barely a mumble, / something that shocks the shit out of” Xiomara (101). Xavier notices that Xiomara “look[s] different” (101) after her afternoon with Aman, but then he explains that the change must be due to her menstrual cycle.

Aman and Xiomara swap phone numbers and text each other while they are apart. They pass each other flirtatious notes during biology class.