“I have something to tell you,” he says. I run my fingers around the tendons in his hand and look back at him. “I might be in love with you.” He smiles a little. “I’m waiting until I’m sure to tell you, though.” “That’s sensible of you,” I say, smiling too. “We should find some paper so you can make a list or chart or something.” I feel his laughter against my side, his nose sliding along my jaw, his lips pressing behind my ear. “Maybe I’m already sure,” he says, “and I just don’t want to frighten you.” I laugh a little. “Then you should know better.” “Fine,” he says. “Then I love you.” I kiss him as the train slides into unlit, uncertain land. I kiss him for as long as I want, for longer than I should, given that my brother sits three feet away from me.