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shifted in a way that amused Matt; he was clearly rapidly editing his response. “Well, that you were attractive,” he said, stiff with shyness.
    â€œReally! Say more,” Matt joked. “Wait, did I come out with some big drunken confession? I have the vague memory that I did.”
    Daniel cleared his throat. “You said that being as good-looking as you are proved to be a curse sometimes.”
    â€œShut up. I said that?”
    â€œYup. You even choked up a little when you said it.”
    Matt groaned. “Was there at least some context . . . ?”
    â€œNot really.”
    â€œChrist, what an asshole.” It was coming back to him. He remembered now that he’d been trying to encourage Daniel, because he recognized on him the diffident look of a man who thought Matt was out of his league. “What did you say?” he asked.
    Daniel shrugged, a glint in his eye. “I said that that must be really hard for you.”
    Matt guffawed. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m a weepy, and apparently quite conceited, drunk.”
    He helped Daniel clear the dishes, wanting to tell him that he had thought Daniel was hot too, but not being able to find a way out of their conversation, and not sure what message he wanted to give him. They moved to the living room, where Daniel made a fire in the woodstove. “Do you like hot cider?” he asked. He disappeared into the kitchen for a while, and Matt picked up the magazine Daniel edited, browsing through stories of Amherst College alumni who were doing DNA sequencing and building affordable housing for the homeless. Daniel emerged from the kitchen and handed a tall steaming glass to Matt. It had a cinnamon stick in it. When Matt told the story in years to come, he’d say that, between the fire and the hot cider, he was remembering every sitcom episode he’d ever seen where the wife drags the reluctant husband to a cozy, romantic weekend in a Vermont inn. But when Daniel settled beside him, and the sweet cider coated his throat, and Daniel asked him why he’d needed to get out of New York so badly, Matt found himself choking up. “Oh God,” he said, waving his hand in front of his face, and he told him about Jay, his best friend since high school. “We started our school’s first gay-straight alliance,” he said, his eyes gleaming with pride and self-irony. “We spent every Halloween together for ten years.” He took two pictures out of his wallet and showed them to Daniel: one from their first year of college, when he and Jay had dressed up for Halloween as the Id and the Superego, and one from their junior year, when they’d gone as Nature and Nurture. Daniel looked at the pictures of the boys in preposterous costumes, and Matt was rewarded by his appreciative laughter. “I was a poli-sci and fine arts major,” Matt said, “so these Halloweens really combined all my interests.”
    â€œI see that you managed to be the one who went as Nature and the Id,” Daniel said.
    Matt laughed. “Anything to show off bare-chested.” He sighed shakily. “Anyway,” he said, “last week there was a misunderstanding about who was going to bring Jay dinner, and Kendrick reamed me out for not being there when it counted. And then, when Jay tried to intervene, that little fucker told me I was upsetting Jay and making him sicker. Can you believe it? I was upsetting Jay! This is the guy who made Jay move out of his apartment after his first hospitalization because Kendrick was allergic to mold!”
    He sat back on the couch cushion and sighed. “It was all very Angels in America: The Next Generation ,” he said.
    Daniel leaned toward him and kissed him, his forehead touching Matt’s, his breath sharp, like apples. The dog approached and shoved his muzzle between their knees, and Daniel said, “Yo-yo, don’t be rude.”