Santino’s eyes drop to my lips when I try to wet them. His own lips part in a silent inhale. The air around us feels too warm, even though I’ve had the air conditioning running all day. We sway toward each other, almost like we’re opposite ends of two magnets being drawn toward each other.
I’m stopped by the book hitting my chest. Embarrassment rushes at me, hard and fast. What am I doing? Santino was holding up the book so I could read the back and all of a sudden, I’m trying to… what? Kiss him?
Why would he want to kiss you? He just met you. Don’t be a creep.
“Sorry,” I sputter, spinning away. I grab the last glass that needs drying and nearly drop it in my haste.
“No, I’m sorry,” Santino replies, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t be randomly touching your stuff. I’ll go put thisback.” He moves stiffly, shoulders raised, like he’s nervous and uncomfortable.
“No!” It comes out a little too loud in my eagerness to put him at ease.
Santino stops in his tracks and gives me a deer-caught-in-headlights look.
“You can touch my stuff.” I hear the way that sounds a second too late. I wince and Santino’s lips twitch with a suppressed laugh. The tension between us vanishes as quickly as it appeared.
“I mean, you can read any of the books,” I clarify.
Santino shrugs, flipping the book back and forth between his hands. “I don’t really read, but…” He scans the room and the random piles of books I haven’t tidied yet. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll give it a try while I’m here.”
He smiles at me and there’s something about his expression that makes me pause. It’s goofy and unserious. Lighthearted and carefree. It feels so familiar and yet so far out of my reach. Like it’s a place I used to go to all the time, but I haven’t been back in so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like.
The moment passes as Santino returns the book to its pile. I hurriedly give the kitchen counter one last wipedown, then get ready to leave for dinner.
The restaurant Sebastian made reservations at isn’t far from The Bronzed Rail. On our subway ride into Manhattan, I try to tell Santino about each stop and the things he can find there if he wants to explore the city. He soaks it all up like every word out of my mouth is the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard. I can’t tell if he’s for real or not. Noel would’ve told me to shut up already by the second stop. Rhys would’ve patted me on the arm and subtly tried to change the subject. Sebastian would’ve half-listened while checking his emails on his phone.
But Santino listens with his whole body. He angles himself toward me, gaze unwavering and attentive. He doesn’t just respond with the normal “I’m listening” sounds at the right times, he asks questions—lots of them.
Do I prefer walking the bridge from the Manhattan side or the Brooklyn side? Do I have a favorite restaurant for spring rolls? Do I think it’s worth going to see the Statue of Liberty? What do I think is the most underrated neighborhood in the city?
It’s a little strange, honestly. The questions don’t feel like casual small-talk type questions. He keeps phrasing them like he wants to hear my opinions and my preferences. Like he’s not interested in getting to know the city, but rather, he’s interested in getting to know me. I’ve never had someone pay that kind of attention to me before. Like they really want to know what I think. Like what I say matters to them.
It’s not just you. You’re not special. He probably does that with everyone.
At dinner, Santino sits in the middle of the long table while I grab the empty seat at the end. Rhys tells story after story about all the funny and cringey and hilarious-after-the-fact stuff that’s happened during video shoots. Bellamy cuts in to explain things Rhys glosses over or to correct him when he exaggerates a little too much. Then Sebastian goes on about how we started The Camboy Network and some of our more recent projects.
No matter who’s talking, no matter what they’re talking about, Santino looks right at them as if they’re the only person in the entire room. He’s quick to laugh and generous with his smiles. He seems to find everything “hella cool.”
By the time dinner’s over, it feels like Santino’s been a part of the friend group since forever. He’s already got some inside jokes going and whenever he says something funny, the whole table erupts in laughter. Even Christian and Angel, the twoquieter guys in the group, are chiming in on the conversation, and Noel doesn’t look as annoyed as he usually does.
I push my chair back. No one looks up when I leave the table. I’m just going to the restroom, no big deal. When I get back, everyone’s still talking and laughing and having a great time. I slip back into my seat and no one looks in my direction.
They didn’t even notice you were gone. They probably wouldn’t notice if you didn’t come back.
A pang hits me in the middle of my chest, hard like a sledgehammer. It’s sudden and out of nowhere, leaving me struggling to draw in air.
The distance between me and the rest of the table feels like it’s growing, like I’m drifting away, even though nothing’s actually moving. All my friends are over there, having so much fun. And I’m over here, all by myself.
I don’t want to be alone on this side of the divide. But I don’t know how to get back over there. I can’t close the distance.
A dark, looming feeling teases around the edges of my mind and memories start to surface. Not any specific ones. Just fuzzy impressions of times when I felt like my friends were moving in one direction and I was moving in another. They feed into the growing darkness.
I don’t know what this is or why it’s happening. But it’s getting bigger and stronger and I’m scared it’s going to eat me alive.
CHAPTER
FOUR
SANTINO
