Page 92 of See You Next Tuesday

Simone: Not me getting emotional over the behavior of a straight man

Simone: But genuinely like

Simone: I’m so so so so happy that this is how it’s going

Simone: (And selfishly quite relieved that my partner’s best friend isn’t a total douchebag)

Anya: At most an intermittent douchebag with occasionally questionable taste in music

Simone: Tell me that man doesn’t listen to country

Anya: I would like to, Simone

Anya: I would really like to

There had been a few moments when Anya almost said it.

When Gabe was taking a shower and playing music on his phone while she was working in the living room, and he was singing “Friends in Low Places” at the top of his voice and getting a majority of the lyrics loudly, confidently wrong, and it was all she could do not to run into the bathroom and get in with him fully clothed.

When they were having sex and he wanted to try out some complicated position, and it was so awkward and awful for both of them that they ended up collapsing in hysterical laughter.

When he came home from the island bookstore with a stack of fantasy novels she liked, and when she asked him why, he told her he was going to read them so he could understand “the weird vampire stuff you’re always saying.”

But every time, something stopped her—she wasn’t sure what. Maybe she just liked this easy space they were in, on a faraway island tucked in the northernmost corner of the country, where they didn’t have to think about what came next. Until the Friday before the election, when they decided to take a hike after they finished phone banking.

“It’s not a hike-hike, right?” Anya asked Gabe suspiciously. “I’m not cute when I’m all red-faced and huffy.”

“If I wanted you red-faced and huffy, I’d keep you right here in this cabin.” Gabe gave Anya’s ass a friendly squeeze as he pulled on a T-shirt.

“Well, I don’t hate that plan,” she teased.

“Do you want to stay?” he asked. “I’ll take this shirt off right now.”

“Can that please always be our thing instead of ‘I’ll turn this car around’?” she laughed. “You bail on any given plan by taking off your shirt?”

“You’ll do literally anything to see me topless,” he chided.

“No! It works for every occasion. Parties, the opera—”

“I get bored at the opera and take off my shirt, this is what you’re suggesting?”

“As a subtle cue to me that you’re ready to leave, yes.”

“If I take you to the opera, will you wear those long gloves?” He skimmed his fingers up and down Anya’s arms. “I really like those long gloves.”

“You’ll be shirtless, I’ll wear the gloves, we’ll be the weirdest couple at La Traviata.” Anya beamed.

“Couple,” Gabe repeated, and then he leaned down and kissed her. “I like when you call us that.”

—

The hike was more of a nature walk, to Anya’s relief—and an unbelievably beautiful one. They took the dogs through a dense forest until they finally reached a path that wound along the island’s shore, with endless views of isles, seas, and mountains. They walked along the path for twenty minutes or so until they got to a little inlet with a soft patch of grass, and they decided to sit for a bit to let the dogs run around.

“So, about the opera,” Gabe said. He sounded nervous—he was picking at a piece of grass.

“Wait, do you actually like opera?” Anya asked. “Do you want me to learn about opera like you’re learning about vampires?”

“No, I know nothing about opera,” Gabe said quickly. “I was thinking, if I were to get us tickets, for any sort of event, did you have thoughts on what city might be good?”