Malinda Lo

and tearing the article out beneath the table as quietly as possible. She knew she shouldn’t, but she had needed to have the picture in a way she didn’t consciously understand.

She couldn’t put into words why she had gathered these photos together, but she could feel it in her bones: a hot and restless urge to look—and, by looking, to know.

She felt an exhilarating distance from the Earth, and yet a comforting closeness to these people she loved.

A warm tenderness bloomed inside Lily; it felt the way a bruise ached when pressed.

Rockets to the moon didn’t seem so far-fetched when Kath listened to her. She made previously unimaginable things seem possible.

She had to push herself closer to Kath; that was the only thought in her mind.

(The way her body had fit against Kath’s; the exquisite ache it had caused.)

Her mouth questioned her with each kiss: Is this what you want? And Lily tried to say yes in the way she pulled Kath close to her, the way she caressed the fine soft hairs on the nape of Kath’s neck, the way she pressed her breasts against Kath’s body.
Yes.

It was still a shock to feel it: the connection between their bodies, as if it had risen from the marrow of her bones, thick and charged and sweet. Before, she had been afraid of being discovered and afraid of discovering herself, but the more they kissed, the less afraid she felt, until her fear was subsumed beneath much more powerful feelings.

She felt the rub of her mother’s wedding ring against her skin, and her mother’s face swam into focus, her brown eyes full of the sharp worry of love, and Lily thought, You will never look at me like this again.