We Could Be So Good

by Cat Sebastian

One of the strangest complications of this whole mess is that this person he was ready to regard as a sister for the rest of their lives is now demoted to being a near stranger, and they’re both supposed to act like it isn’t a loss.

He braces his hands on the edges of the sink and looks at his reflection, surprised to see that he looks normal, almost calm. He feels as if he’s been turned inside out, as if he just learned that a part of his heart is on the outside of his body, in the possession of somebody else entirely.

The moment stretches too long, with Andy ineptly fiddling with daffodil stems and Nick watching him and something hanging in the air just out of sight, and if Andy keeps his eyes averted, maybe he won’t have to see it.

So Andy tells him about the book, occasionally noticing Nick’s gaze stray toward the door. Until, finally, he holds up a finger for Andy to pause and then flashes a look over Andy’s shoulder. The look is—it isn’t anything Andy’s ever seen before. It’s almost a smile, if smiles were made of molten metal and bad intentions.

He can’t quite imagine it, can’t quite imagine having a village. He can imagine his father’s journey more easily. He wonders if leaving everything behind is a Russo trait. As the crow flies, he’s five miles from the place where he was born, ten miles from the house where his brother and mother live today. It feels like more.

“Gay sex doesn’t have so much in common with bowling. You’d be surprised.”

why it’s an admission in the first place. He wants to be danced with the way he’s seen Nick dance with other people. He wants Nick in all the ways that he can have him.

But for the first time, anger outweighs the fear. It’s not that the fear is less, only that the anger is more, tipping the scales decisively.

“I want this with you. I want everything with you. And I need you to know that. I don’t know how we’ll make it work, but I want it anyway.”

“I love you,” Andy repeats, “and I want to be with you, and that’s all there is to it. The rest is details. The rest is . . . administrative.”

I want this to be—I want more than we can have.” Andy is looking at him so carefully, too carefully. “But I want it anyway,” Nick admits.