“Yes, cousins. But they’re not cousins. I’m see, sometimes, they hold hands in the house, on the couch—where no window. Touch hip. Touch neck. Soft. Like normal thing. Sleep in the same room. I’m not see kiss, ever, but I know what love looks like when it have to be secret.” Eli feels like he might cry. “I think it’s bad,” Kuzy continues gently, “not fair. But I’m not—it’s secret. I promise. Don’t worry.”
