What If It's Us

I barely know him. I guess that is every relationship. You start with nothing and maybe end with everything.

I believe in love at first sight. Fate, the universe, all of it. But not how you’re thinking. I don’t mean it in the our souls were split and you’re my other half forever and ever sort of way. I just think you’re meant to meet some people. I think the universe nudges them into your path.

But maybe this isn’t how life works. Maybe it’s all about people coming into your life for a little while and you take what they give you and use it on your next friendship or relationship. And if you’re lucky, maybe some people pop back in after you thought they were gone for good.

I don’t know if we’re in a love story or a story about love.

God, Arthur.” He kisses me. “Te quiero. Estoy enamorado. You don’t even know.” And I don’t speak a word of Spanish, but when I look at his face, I get it.

I just need more time with me, I think. To really believe in my worth without anyone's help.

I don't get why that's so bad. Why shouldn't I want to be with someone who makes me feel worthy? Someone who wants to be with me for the long run?

People like me should come with a mute button.

Arthur, the universe just got the ball rolling,' he says. 'We made us happen.

But what if the story should quit while it’s ahead?” “How do you know unless you give the story another chance?

The universe knew it was love before we did

The universe wouldn’t get us together for just one summer, right?

He talks a lot, which I’m fine with, and he’s not good at maintaining eye contact, which sucks because I want to stare at this electric blue eyes. Punch me if I ever compare them to the sky or the ocean because they’re much cooler than that.

I guess that’s any relationship. You start with nothing and maybe end with everything.

Where the fuck is a Time-Turner when you need one?

This apartment isn't home for either of us, but we're home for each other, and that's what makes every small wall fall away so I only focus on him.

He laces our fingers and shrugs. And I’m dead. I am actually dead. There’s no other way to explain it. I’m sitting in fucking Herald Square, holding hands with the cutest boy I’ve ever met, and I’m dead. I’m the deadest zombie ghost vampire who ever died. And now my mouth isn’t working. It's like I'm stunned into silence. That never happens.

I shrug. 'I'm just going to live in the moment. That's the only way to see where we end up.

Sometimes I feel like New Yorkers do New York wrong. Where are the people swinging from subway poles and dancing on fire escapes and kissing in Times Square? The post office flash mob proposal was a start, but when’s the next big number? I pictured New York like West Side Story plus In the Heights plus Avenue Q—but really, it’s just construction and traffic and iPhones and humidity.

This is the best. It's like we're dads.' He laughs. 'Dads?' 'Like we're an old New York couple just sitting around doing nothing.' 'I like doing nothing with you.' 'Me too.' And I do. I like it so fucking much. I always thought love was about the showstopper moments. No dialogue, no filler. But if the quiet parts are filler, maybe filler's underrated.

Just speak from the dick, Big Ben.

I can't help it. If I'm going to feel something, I want to feel it.

just think you’re meant to meet some people. I think the universe nudges them into your path.

I have this thing where if someone likes me, I feel like I tricked them into it. Like I can't trust it. I'll fuck it up somehow, like with Hudson.

And I let Jonathan Groff drown them out. Because that's what cute boys are for.

I kiss him and I call him beautiful and I tell him I love him and we go on past that finish line. We laugh and catch our breaths and we peel stickers off each other. No do-over needed.

Last night my Sim counterpart gave flowers to Sim Arthur and got rejected because fuck my lives, real and digital.

It’s this strangling fear that we’ll be sitting there and we’ll run out of something to say and I’ll be able to witness the exact moment someone falls out of love with me because I don’t have enough substance to keep a conversation alive over a meal. Why would you want to talk to me for the rest of your life?

Dylan checks his phone, like we're not even talking, which is my least favorite thing about humans.