“They’ve been a little worried about me. On account of the whole not-having-friends thing. So they asked if I wanted to invite my cohost over for dinner.”
“But they can’t know that we’re . . .”
“No. They can’t.”
Bad idea. Bad idea. And yet I can’t stop myself when an agreement tumbles out.
“Sure,” I say. “I can’t say I’m not curious about how all of this came about.” I gesture down the length of his body, and he smirks, pouncing on me and pressing me deep into the mattress.
All we do is kiss, pausing every so often to laugh or talk or marvel at how excellent Steve is at managing to push both of us off the bed to make room for himself. I’m going to be exhausted tomorrow, but I don’t care. Maybe I’m a masochist, liking him here in my bed and knowing we cannot be more than this. That even this is stretching the limits of what we are, and it’s only a matter of time before we snap.
It’s not real.
But I wonder, if it isn’t, why we fall asleep with his face tucked against the back of my neck, his hand at my hip.
FROM: Yun, Dominic
TO: Goldstein, Shay
DATE: May 14, 3:52 p.m.
SUBJECT: Booth C
Hi Shay,
You’ll see on our shared calendar that I reserved Booth C from 4 to 4:15 p.m. There’s something I want you to listen to. I think you’ll enjoy it quite a bit.
Regards,
Dominic
FROM: Goldstein, Shay
TO: Yun, Dominic
DATE: May 14, 4:19 p.m.
SUBJECT: RE: Booth C
Dear Dominic,
You were right. That was an especially satisfying piece of audio.
All the best,
Shay
27
“I want to say we’ve heard so much about you,” Margot Yun says after taking my coat in the foyer of Dominic’s childhood home. “But frankly, we’ve heard almost nothing at all.”
I paste a smile on my face as I step out of the corn shoes a sponsor sent us a couple weeks ago. “My mom feels the same,” I tell her. “Dominic and I are both just . . . private people.”
“I think it’s commendable.” Dominic’s father, Morris, stands about five inches shorter than his wife. It’s clear which side of the family Dominic’s height came from. “There’s no need to post everything all over social media. There’s not enough that people keep to themselves these days. Although I did just manage to figure out Snapchat. Tell them, Margot.”
“He’s been very proud of himself,” Margot says. “He sends me photos from the shop when we’re not working together, but I can’t understand why they go away after only a few seconds. I can never seem to get them back.”
“I tried to tell you, that’s the whole point!”