I would cry if I could, so my body kicks up the closest thing it can get, where my eyes burn and my chest hitches. I laugh like I might be able to hide it. “I’m good. Really. Wait, you’ve got some wine on your lip—no, over there, just—here, let me get it.”
I sit with the bottle between my knees while the rest of them bicker, the lighthearted jabbing and snickering that comes with being so close in a place like this. Alex wanders over and steals the wine from Cormac, only to hack in disgust when it hits their tongue. When Sadaf comes to kiss the top of Aisha’s head, Salvador offers her a drink too, leading to a bout of awkward spluttering when Sadaf reminds xem she’s Muslim.
“Besides,” she says, resting her cheek against Aisha’s temple. “It’s nasty.”
There’s a knock on the wall beside us. We look up, almost guiltily, like we’ve been caught slacking off on the job. But it’s just Nick, as calm and quiet as always. I have no idea how he does it, how he stays so still when the world falls apart around him.
“Hey,” Salvador says, holding up the bottle to him. “Want some?”
“No,” Nick says. “Benji, can we talk?”
Right. It’s happening. Maybe I can convince Nick to wait—to let me stay here a little longer—but that would be selfish. Everyone turns to me, confused frowns pulling at their masks.
“Sorry, guys,” I say. “Gotta go.”
“Wait.” Cormac catches my bottle and takes the wine back from Salvador. He adds a little more and tosses it to me, with what I think is a mumbled yeet under his breath. “If you’re not going to drink it, at least give it to someone who will.”
When—if—I survive this, if they’re still here, I am never leaving them again.
* * *
We meet in the copy room. I set the plastic bottle of wine on the fax machine because my hands are trembling, and I don’t want to make a mess.
Nick says, “Erin will be here soon. She got tied up with Micah.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I take off my mask and shove it into my back pocket. My tongue writhes in my throat, and I wipe rot off my chin. “They’re cute together.”
Nick takes the wine from the fax machine, sniffs it, and takes a cautious sip. His own mask rests under his chin, showing off his squishy teenage cheeks and sharp nose, his tired eyes and hard jaw. The things that made me tell myself I was betrothed and always would be.
It doesn’t matter now, does it? After what Theo did?
Funny how I’ll go back to him after he hurts me, but as soon as he hurts the people I care about, he’s dead to me. If only I had seen it from the start.
“Did you try this?” Nick asks, holding up the wine to the light.
“No,” I admit. “You can have it if you want.”
“Fine. Trade.”
In exchange, he gives me the trans bead lizard he finished last night. I cradle it in my hands, admiring the pale pink, baby blue, and gentle white. All I can manage is “thank you,” even though I want to say, This is the first time I’ve gotten to hold something with my colors.
For some reason, a small laugh bubbles up from my chest. With my ruined mouth, it doesn’t sound much like laughter at all, but Nick seems to know what it is because his face screws up and he says, “What?”
“Nothing, I just…”
I’m going to say it. I’m going to say it out loud. Fuck my betrothal, fuck Theo, fuck everything else.
I say, “I was just thinking about kissing you.”
Nick says, slowly, “Why?”