We Could Be So Good

by Cat Sebastian

“Let me get this straight,” Andy says as they walk approximately half a mile through a dark and damp tunnel, “the only way to get to Brooklyn on the subway is to switch trains and then pick our way through a maze of murderer-infested tunnels?” Something scurries across his foot, which is a shame because Andy is going to have to burn his shoes at Nick’s mother’s house. Not the best way to make a first impression.

“That we go to one of those places, you meet someone and go home with them, and I’ll go read a book in a coffee shop for a few hours.” “A few hours,” Nick repeats, his mouth curved in a smile that makes Andy feel like he’s melting. “Don’t give me that much credit. Ten minutes in the john is more than enough.”

“I’ve been reading that series you’re writing,” Bailey says now. “It’s funny. You’re wasted on the news.” “Funny?” Nick repeats, outraged. “Wasted?” “Those were compliments.” “Like hell they were.”

“You have shitty taste in books. Would it kill you to read something that isn’t totally dismal?” “I’m paid for my taste in books,” Bailey says easily. “And I don’t mind dismal things. I’m trying to be your friend, aren’t I?”

If Nick quits the Chronicle and instead devotes his life to seeking out the least seductive activity, he’ll never find anything worse than folding laundry. Not that Andy is folding anything. He’s just gathering everything under his arm in a ball. “You aren’t going to fold that?” “Definitely wasn’t planning on it.” “The ladies at the laundry place always fold it.” Andy raises an eyebrow. “The ladies at the laundry place aren’t here to judge me.”

When he gets back to the apartment building, he stops at every landing and sits for a bit, drinking juice out of the bottle like a barbarian.

“I swear to God, Andrew Fleming, if you use the word canoodling one more time, my dick will never get hard again.”