The Pairing

by Casey McQuiston

everywhere. A hundred thousand memories of a hundred thousand touches circle like shoals of little iridescent fish. Kit’s lips against the bridge of my nose. Kit holding the side of my face in the laundry detergent aisle. A slice of cake on a bad day and Kit’s apron smeared with buttercream, a grateful kiss to each of his fingertips. Passed dishes, stolen covers, a thumbprint of strawberry juice on my chin. My hand pinning his shoulder to the wall, his mouth livid and wet and starving. The way he kissed me at the kitchen table the first morning we were honest.

his body became so familiar that I stopped sensing it as separate from my own.

Love took root in me before I even knew its name.

if, sometimes, discovery wants bitterness first.

It’s a shame, because I like that about myself. My favorite parts of me are the ones that Theo brings out, the ones that grew to match theirs.

a sign declares these TRIONFO DI GOLA—TRIUMPH OF GLUTTONY. God, if I could title my memoir.

I’d had the gift of being loved to the center of my soul twice in my life, and even if both of those people were gone, the love had been there. It was still there, in the shape it had made me into.