It could happen.
“I have to stop looking at this, they’re losing it. My regulars will hold down the fort. Probably.” They cleared their throat. “I can’t believe you’re producing food from my kitchen.”
It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it. No.
I’m a genie, rub my belly and see what else I produce. Oh my god, NO.
“Well, I...yeah...” I squeezed my eyes shut really hard, hoping that time would skip back fifteen seconds and I could rewrite that line.
They cleared their throat again. Closer this time. “So you have a friend who needs advice? Sorry, I know you said we weren’t pretending, but I don’t know how else to like...start this conversation.”
I opened one eye, and yes, they were looking at me. Obviously. On the me side of the desk so they were essentially in the kitchen now. “Um. Well like. Okay. So um.” I took a deep, slow breath. “I am totally not trying to in any way invade your space, or your not-dating guidelines, or anything. But it has come to my attention that I’m like...attracted. To you. Errrrrr...so yeah. FYI. I’m open to talking about it. Or not talking about it. Either way, I’m making broccoli with lemon juice.”
“Ohhhh, I had a plastic thing of lemon juice, right?” They shook their head. “Sorry, that was in no way a good response to what you just said. Um. Do you want to sit in actual chairs? I feel weird standing here awkwardly.”
“Cool. Yes. Let’s do that.”
Then we were sitting in actual chairs. Both of us looking at our hands. I was looking at my hands in such a way that I could tell they were also looking at their hands.
“I like your shirt,” I said.
“Oh. Thanks.”
“The, uh, rolled cuffs thing. Is a...thing I like. I guess? I mean, yes, I must, because I do. On you.” I covered my face with my hands. “Oh my god, this is ridiculous. Please put me out of my misery.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to do this wrong.”
“Wrong how?”
“I don’t want to...”
Oh no, they were trying to let me down easily, this was the worst, dammit, I’d messed this up, I should have known I would totally mess this up, why would anyone want to date someone whose claim to fame was leaving their last boyfriend at the altar, oh my god—
“...give you the impression I’m creepily preoccupied with you. Because I’m not. I don’t think.”
Wait. What?
“But it has also come to my attention that setting you up with other people is not exactly working in my best interest.”
“It’s not? I mean, I thought the show was going okay?” I peeked through my fingers.
“Oh, the show is great. I meant to show you the email I got from my contact with the company sponsoring, it’s really supportive. And views are up.” They seemed to kind of pull back. “But I meant it’s not working for my personal interests.”
I waited, but they didn’t say anything else. “Um. I think I’m going to...need more than that?”
“Sorry.” They grimaced. “I keep apologizing. It’s a nervous tic I’ve tried to stop doing, but not that successfully. I’m trying to say—”
The oven timer went off.
“Aw man,” I mumbled, getting up.
“Declan, wait.” They stood too, so close to me I was worried they’d smell my tuna breath. “I think we should go out. Together. On a date. If you want to.”
“Yes. Definitely. I definitely, for sure want to, yes. Please.”
They exhaled. “Okay. Good. Sweet.”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t help grinning. “Sweet.”
The timer went off again.
And then we ate broccoli.
“You must be a wizard.” Sidney shook their head, setting their empty plate on the edge of the desk. (We’d eaten on our laps because: no table.) “I would not have believed anyone could prepare an edible vegetable in my kitchen.”
“It’s not my best work, but I’m happy with it.” Feeling daring, I added, “And anyway, it seemed like the point wasn’t so much dinner as hanging out together.”
“Very true.” With a satisfied breath, they sat back.
I put my plate on top of theirs and did the same. “So um, scale of one to five, how messed up was it that I asked you for advice live on YouTube? I was a little worried that would be messed up.”
“Actually, I find that I...am less likely to get into mental tangles when the pressure is on. Some of my best spinstering is done live because I don’t have time to think too hard about the answer. So on a scale of one being not messed up and five being very messed up, I’d put it at a one.” They shook their head slightly. “That was actually easier than this. I don’t know what it says about me that I’m sometimes more comfortable in a livestream than I am in, you know, my life.”
“It’s probably a good place to be comfortable if you do it a lot. And I don’t think that I would be as comfortable on video if you weren’t. I for sure feel calmer because you’re so at ease.”
“Oh.” Faint color in their cheeks again. “Thank you.”
“This could be a pretty bitchin’ episode of The Love Study,” I offered. “Whatever happens.”
“You think? You realize if we confirm their suspicions, they will be relentless.”
I shrugged. “That doesn’t bother me. But you have to, you know, work in that space.”
“It’s more... I’ve never given them evidence to support any of their theories about me. They know I’m genderqueer, they know I’m somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five, they know I recently moved from Southern California to Northern California. People who dig into the archives know a little more because I wasn’t as guarded when I first started. But that’s basically...it.”
“That doesn’t have to change if you don’t want it to. We can keep it completely off-limits.” That might be the smartest thing to do. Though then my friends would have to come to me for the details of my dating life instead of getting them on YouTube.
“But doesn’t that make me a massive hypocrite? I was willing to throw you to the wolves, but the second I get involved I’m like, Hey, no way, that’s out of bounds.” Their forehead creased. “And it’s not a bad thing to be out and queer and trans and accessible when it comes to dating. Maybe that would help us not fall into the same sorts of patterns that don’t really seem to be working for everyone else.”