Hopeless Romantic

by Francis Gideon

  “But Say Anything.” Nick leaned over the table. “You have seen it, right?”

  Katie scrunched up her nose as she shook her head. “Maybe not?”

  “You are a sham,” Nick mocked, shaking his head playfully. “You do realize how much the Bouncing Souls draw from that movie? How everyone in the pop punk scene does?”

  “I’m not saying I doubt you, but I just didn’t know.”

  Nick reached into his jacket pocket so he could pull out his iPhone. He skimmed to the record The Good, The Bad, and The Argyle and to the song “Joe Lies.” “This is a direct reference to the movie. They have Say Anything playing in the background.”

  “Oh, well I suppose that makes much more sense now. Isn’t there another song about it too? Not the Souls, but something else?”

  “There are about a million songs about that movie. It’s just . . . the best romantic comedy. Hands down.”

  “Wow,” Katie said, taking a drink of her Diet Coke. “That’s a pretty hefty statement. Are you ready to put your money where your mouth is? After all the talk you had about John Hughes?”

  “I have no more money,” Nick said, laughing bitterly. “But I don’t need a lot of money, because Say Anything wins every time.”

  “Oh, this could get interesting. And I guess I know what we’re watching after this.”

  “Sounds good.” Nick spotted the waiter and put away his iPhone. It didn’t seem like the right moment to make Katie listen to music like they had in Toronto. Besides, his stomach growled furiously at the pile of pasta, spinach, and cheese that was his lasagne.

  “Here you are, gentlemen.” Scott placed the plates between them. “Enjoy.”

  “Um . . .” Nick watched as Scott disappeared, oblivious to his mistake. Nick huffed, turning to Katie. “Did that really happen?”

  “What?” Katie asked. She was already sliding a knife through her steak, her napkin in her lap. She seemed just as oblivious to the mistake. Nick wanted to be upset about what had just happened—how the waiter had so brazenly misgendered Katie—but he also didn’t want to get her upset about it. Nick picked up his fork and tried to brush over it, when Katie sighed.

  “Don’t worry, Nick. That happens a lot. I can’t let it get under my skin like this.”

  “Really? How could anyone even do it tonight as a mistake? You’re in a dress. A pink dress.”

  “All pretty in pink, I know. But I get it all the time, and I’ve come to realize it actually doesn’t matter what I’m wearing. I’ll get sir’d at the bank when I come in wearing a skirt or in jeans. I get weird looks on the bus no matter if my hair is down at my sides or up in a ponytail. If I wear makeup or if I don’t. It’s not worthwhile trying to find meaning in something like that, so I’ve just learned to tune it out. Those people don’t matter.” Katie slid her hand on the table, touching Nick’s. “You do. And while I appreciate you getting all young and invincible hero-like for my honor, I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  Katie shrugged. “I’m not going to deny that it sucks. No way around that. I try to limit the amount of day-to-day shitty activities I do when I go out, because getting sir’d five times in a row, from the bank to the pharmacy to the bus stop, is just too much on my brain. This is why online shopping is fantastic. It’s where I got this dress! And the cardigan is one of Dunja’s old ones, if you’re curious. Same with the purse. It’s actually startling how often we share clothing. Ilana and I can’t—way different sizes—but Dunja and I have so much fun. But even when I’m out with her, I’ll get sir’d.”

  “Does she ever?”

  “Nah. She’s cis. And even if she did, she’d talk back. And people usually apologize because she’s cis. I used to try to talk back like her, sometimes repeating exactly what she’d said, but it didn’t always work out for me.”

  “That’s shitty.” Nick twisted his fork in his pasta, not as hungry as he’d been before. “You shouldn’t be afraid to go outside.”

  “Oh, I’m not. I go out whenever I want, do as much as I can, when I want. I know there are good pockets around town where I don’t have to worry. Dunja’s place, some spots on campus, and Toronto’s shows. And your place too, I’m assuming, whenever I get there. But I’m not going to hang all of my self-esteem on one little interaction with strangers at a bus stop or restaurant. I can’t. I used to do that, and it destroyed me.”

  Nick closed his eyes, feeling the breadth of pain in Katie’s words. Destroyed her? Really? He couldn’t imagine everyone calling him something different when he insisted on something he so clearly wanted. He imagined someone calling him Nicole, over and over, and repeatedly referring to him as a woman. It was odd and painful. Not because those words were wrong (though that was definitely some of it), but because no one seemed to want to listen. He had never had the same time with resistance that Katie had dealt with, even when he was gay-bashed. Most people still acknowledged his name and who he liked. He was never ignored in the same way.

  “And besides,” Katie added. “I look pretty damn good right now. And I know I do. Why should I let some seventeen-year-old at his first job decide my self-worth?”

  “You’re right.” Nick picked up his fork and ate a couple more bites. “I’m still not going to tip him.”

  “No, don’t do that. You should know well enough how difficult it is to get by on minimum wage.”

  Nick huffed again. “Fine. I just won’t tip him well.”

  “There. Good compromise.” Katie held up her drink to toast with, and Nick mirrored her action. The clinking of their glasses didn’t make him feel that much better, but it was a start.

  “So,” Katie said, “Madonna or Lady Gaga?”

  “Oh, that’s almost offensively easy,” Nick said, rolling right into their new conversation.

  “Are you okay with meeting Tucker?” Nick asked as he held the apartment door open for Katie.

  “Your asexual roomie? Yeah, I’d be fine with that.”

  “He’s also getting his PhD, but in German philosophy. So he’s really quiet, and there are books all over our apartment that seriously look as if they could summon demons. And he’ll mention Hegel at least twice before the night is out.”

  “Nice. I like him already.” Katie grinned. She held her leftover steak under her arm, along with some of Nick’s leftovers as well. By the time they finished the meal, Nick had been able to tell that the subtle misgendering was wearing on Katie, and she hadn’t felt safe enough to use their bathroom, so Nick had quickly paid the check and prayed his card wasn’t declined. He’d put the hundred from Dunja onto it, so he’d been relieved when there’d been no problems. On the bus to Nick’s place, Katie’s hands had eagerly touched his leg, hinting at the dessert she’d promised. Nick was ready to pin her against the wall by the time they reached his apartment foyer, when he remembered that Tucker, like always, was probably going to be in the living room watching a documentary on the civil war. For fun.

  He was in the middle of telling Katie about Tucker’s civil war fixation—which, for a nearly thirty-year-old Canadian, was an odd fascination to have—when Nick caught Katie wobbling on her feet. They stepped into the elevator, and her smile seemed forced.

  “You okay?” Nick asked. “Your heels finally getting to you?”

  “Yeah. Just a little,” she said, giving another weak smile.

  She’s nervous. Nick wanted to continue telling her about Tucker Wu, the best roommate ever, but he realized it would do no good. She had heard lots of good things about tons of people who had turned out to be jerks anyway. She just had to meet him for herself in order to feel safe.

  “Hey, Tucker,” Nick announced when he stepped inside. He flipped on the hall lights, illuminating some of the recycling that still needed to go out and the half-closed laundry room. “Tucker, you here?”

  “Yes.” Nick heard the telltale sign of a book hitting the ground from Tucker’s closed bedroom door. “Just reading.”

  “You mean sleeping?” Nic
k teased.

  “About the same thing when we’re talking about Heidegger.” Tucker stepped into the hallway, wearing his typical jeans and sweater combination. Some of his dark hair was stuck up at the side in his classic sleeping cowlick. He pushed his glasses up his nose, before extending a hand to Katie.

  “Hey. I take it you’re Katie. I’m Tucker. Nick’s roommate. But you probably figured that out.”

  “Yes, I did. But the demon hunter and civil war buff were other things I’ve learned from Nick.” Katie shook Tucker’s hand with a grin. Tucker shot Nick a look—he had heard the demon joke once too many times—but then smiled politely.

  “You know, some philosophy borders on the occult, since the word for ‘occult’ comes from the Latin for ‘hidden.’ And philosophy is all about revealing the hidden. But alas, I’ve found no demons. Only dissertation supervisors who constantly email me.”

  Katie laughed. She hadn’t taken off her shoes yet and still held their leftovers, along with her purse, close to her chest. Nick placed a hand on the small of her back, easing her into the apartment more as he grabbed the white boxes from her.

  “Is it okay if we hang out for a while, Tucker?”

  “Yeah. I’m not doing anything. Go for it.”

  “Great. Let me put these boxes in the fridge and I’ll make some coffee. Sound good?”

  “Yes,” Katie and Tucker both answered at once.

  “Okay, coming up,” Nick said. “Make yourself at home.”

  After Nick filled up the kettle, he was relieved to hear the clink of Katie’s heels. She slid them off in the front and walked into the kitchen with Tucker at her side. Her body language was less guarded, but Nick could tell her voice hadn’t completely relaxed. It was the same higher pitched sound he’d heard when they first talked on the bus, not the softer, lower tone she’d used to speak with him one on one at Dunja’s.

  Katie cleared some of Tucker’s books off the kitchen table as she sat down. The two of them continued polite conversation as Nick brewed coffee. He found some Oreos in the cupboard and placed them on the table when he set down their mugs. By the time Nick brought over the carafe of coffee, the friendly and teasing tone had returned to Katie’s voice. She was good here. Safe. Tucker didn’t bother her, and from what Nick could tell, Tucker seemed really taken with her too.

  Over coffee and cookies, Nick and Tucker explained how they’d met, the type of research work they were both doing, and when they would possibly defend. Katie talked about her own undergrad work, and Tucker didn’t ask why her degree had taken her so long, but asked her about her subject area instead. When Katie showed him her early butterfly paintings, he understood immediately what she’d meant by the metamorphosis metaphor being dangerous.

  “Have you read Kafka?” Nick asked. “You should read Kafka.”

  “I think I have. Bug book, right?”

  Tucker nodded animatedly. Nick leaned back, sipping his coffee and completely amazed by how well this was going. He was almost a little jealous that Tucker and Katie got along so well. He probably would have been, except that Katie kept giving Nick stray glances and nudging his foot with her own under the table.

  “I should get the laptop and hook up Netflix or we’re never going to watch the movie.” Nick rose from the table, collecting the empty mugs. “Tucker—do you want to watch Say Anything with us? Help me prove to Katie it’s the best romantic comedy out there?”

  Tucker snorted, but shook his head. “I think I’m the last expert you want in there. I was actually about to head out, anyway.”

  “You were?”

  Tucker nodded slowly. He gave Nick a weighty glance that seemed to say, I’ll take off so you can have the place to yourself, before he added, “Study group. You know.”

  “Okay. Well. Have fun. Summon some demons.”

  “Yes.” Katie stood to shake his hand again. “Nice to meet you.”

  Tucker gathered his books from his room while Katie and Nick relocated to the living room area with the laptop. As soon as Tucker was gone, Katie let out a breath. “Oh, I like him. I really do. But I’m relieved.”

  “Yeah?” Nick asked, slinking onto the couch with a mischievous smile. “You are?”

  “Yeah. I was really disappointed when you broke out Oreos, though.”

  “Because you’re my dessert?” Nick said. His cheeks flamed at the cheesy remark—but he couldn’t help it. Katie seemed to share the feeling, because soon enough, she pressed her lips against his. Nick melted into the couch and into her. Katie didn’t let the embrace linger for too long, and pulled away after they’d barely touched tongues.

  “I’ve missed that,” Nick said. “I want more of that.”

  “Soon enough. I hate to make you undo everything . . .” Katie said, glancing at the laptop. “But do you think we should move to a more comfortable room?”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  Nick’s double bed was pressed into the corner of his small room. On the left, his desk acted as a nightstand and an entertainment area as he positioned his laptop (yet again), making sure they could both see the screen. He propped his pillows against the wall so they became support for a seating area, and they could both maintain the illusion that they weren’t going to immediately roll around and make out. Katie assessed his room from the doorway, her gaze bouncing from the posters on the wall to the large bookshelf by the window.

  “Wow.” Katie gestured to the bottom shelf as she stepped inside. It was filled with comic books, old pulp sci-fi novels, and every single other book that Nick tried to hide.

  “Please. Don’t look at those.”

  “But these are all great. You shouldn’t keep them on the shame shelves.”

  “The shame shelves?”

  “Yeah. It’s a step above hiding it under your mattress,” Katie joked. “I have lots of trans books I read when I first came out down on the bottom now. I’m not actually ashamed of them, but I like to keep them distant. But this—” Katie knelt in front of his shelves and gestured to his collected editions of The Invisibles by Grant Morrison “—these are not to be ashamed of. I really like this issue.”

  Nick could only nod and mumble his agreement. From the way Katie was kneeling, her dress had ridden up over her thigh, exposing more of her tattoo. He hadn’t had a chance to figure out what it was in the restaurant or walking upstairs, but Nick was obsessed with the inky black lines. A tree? Or maybe it was a flower? Nick wanted to undress her piece by piece until he found what he needed.

  “Don’t you agree?” Katie asked. She held a copy of Morrison’s The Filth in her hands. “Nick? You listening?”

  “Um.”

  Katie discarded the comic without repeating her question. She bridged the gap between their bodies, a devious glint to her eyes. She knows I was checking her out. Nick’s heart beat faster, his palms got sweaty, and he waited for her to kiss him again. Instead, she tilted her head and gestured towards the bed.

  “Can I sit?”

  “Please.”

  She flattened her dress over her knees as she sat down, then crossed her feet at the ankle. “I’m ready to start when you are.”

  “Right.” Nick grabbed the mouse and turned the movie on. The familiar opening credits made his stomach buzz with excitement. He sat next to her on the bed and placed an arm around her when she nudged him. She continued to snuggle up closer to him as the movie went on, and Nick—as the dutiful boyfriend he was—reciprocated in kind.

  “Remember,” she warned as they continued to tangle themselves together as the movie played, “I actually have to watch this so I know whether or not it’s a good romantic comedy. So we can’t make out.”

  “We can’t? Do pause buttons not work?”

  “Oh.” Katie tilted her head, as if she had just realized that. “Then pause it right now.”

  The movie had barely been on twenty minutes—the high school graduation scene hadn’t even completed yet—so Nick paused it without qualm. As he turned to
face Katie, she placed a hand on his knee. She pressed their noses together, kissing him gently before going to his ear. “Tucker’s gone for the night?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Good.”

  When they kissed again, Nick initiated the embrace. It was so easy and so nice to kiss her. She was aggressive in all the right areas, like when their teeth gnashed together and their tongues touched, but she was soft at the right times too. Nick caressed the nape of her neck and she undulated beneath the touch. Soon, she was folding into his body, allowing her legs to open as she slid into his lap. Nick touched her thighs as the heat built between them. She rocked into him, almost mewling after each stroke or small bite against her lips.

  “Fuck,” Nick murmured. He slipped his hand underneath her cardigan and along the zipper of her dress. The fabric was new and different under his skin. Up until his moment, Katie had always been dressed fairly neutrally. Black jeans and a band T-shirt. Her hair was long and her body was feminine, but Nick knew how to work around her clothing. Confronted with a dress, and a bra underneath, his hands wandered aimlessly, unsure of what to do.

  “You’re doing fine,” Katie said. She pecked his chin, then down towards his neck. “You’re doing more than fine, actually.”

  “Am I? Things are all right?”

  “Oh yeah. Things are great. If not a little slow.”

  Nick laughed. He kissed her again, their eyes closing as the embrace grew more passionate. With more confidence, Nick traced the buttons on her cardigan, undoing the only one that remained closed. He coaxed the sweater off her shoulders, and Katie helped discard it with a simple tug. Katie wrapped her fists around the lapels of his jacket, urging it off him in the same way.

  Nick broke their kiss so he could remove the jacket. He also tackled the buttons on his collared shirt, until he was only in jeans and a T-shirt. The skinny straps of Katie’s dress seemed looser, falling down over her pale shoulders. She didn’t bother trying to straighten them.

  “So, what do I get?”