Page 74 of All Our Almosts

“If there’s anyone I’d want to read it, it would be you.”

That statement has me turning in his arms, resting my palms on his chest, a little overwhelmed by all these new axes of closeness between us.

“Well,” I breathe, “I can confidently say this is the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“It’s not over yet,” he says, one hand coming to rest on my jaw. Even in the low light, the expression in his eyes melts me down to nothing. And when he slowly bends to kiss me, I feel him everywhere. His lips on mine, yes. His hand on my cheek—but not just there. I feel him along my spine and beneath my ribs and low in my belly. Everything is Andy. My Andy, here, kissing me because he wants to and I want him to and all our almosts are suddenly something real.

The darkness makes me bold. My hands start to explore in the way they’ve wanted to for so long, moving up his chest to his shoulders, then drifting back down across the hard plane of his stomach. He pulls me tighter against his body, one hand still clasping the side of my neck as the other holds my lower back. The kiss grows hungry, our tongues tangling together, and I’m pretty sure I could die from how much I want him.

He breathes my name against my mouth, and it’s as much as I can take. I pull back to meet his eyes. “It’s kind of cold out here,” I exhale. “I think we should head home. If you want to.”

He blinks once, then seems to understand. “Y—yes,” he stammers. “Let’s just—uh—yeah. Good idea. Let’s head back.” But he doesn’t move. Not until I grab him by the hand and drag him back down the park path.

22

The train car is nearly empty when we board.

B LINE TO BOSTO COLL GE

We take seats next to each other. His thigh presses against mine.

Somewhere on the edge of my consciousness, the train screeches mercilessly along its track.

This is almost something. Very, very almost.

This is Arlington, an automated voice says.

This is Copley.

This is Hynes Convention Center.

I place my right hand on Andy’s knee, squeezing once.

Andy places his hand atop it, lacing our fingers together.

This is Kenmore.

I let my thumb start to move, tracing small, slow circles across his thigh.

This is Blandford.

I should say something.

This is Boston University East.

I should definitely say something.

This is Boston University Central.

“You know it’s funny…” I say, rotating my hand up until my palm is flush with his, then locking our fingers together. “I feel like you know a lot about dates I’ve been on, but I barely know anything about yours.”

“Is there…” He clears his throat. “Is there something you want to know?”

My thumb starts moving again, back and forth over his.

“Yeah…” I reply.

“What?”