With the metal front door open, I could see Josh through the screen door, standing half on the folding step and half on the concrete block we’d placed because the trailer was sitting a bit too high.

“Can I come in?” Josh asked. “There’s bugs out here.” He fidgeted a bit, standing on the awkward steps in a halo of flying insect squadrons swarming in the springtime desert air.

I wanted to let him in, but I hesitated. If he came in, he’d see me in my thin t-shirt. But then he’d seen me dressed like that for weeks. I moved toward the door. “Yeah, sure,” I heard myself say, flipping the hook so he could open the screen door. “Try not to let in too many of the little Fokkers.”

He snorted a laugh. “Yeah, huh? Fokking bugs.” He pulled the screen toward him and stepped in with a sideways lunge to keep as many insects as possible from following him.

I stepped back to give him room and…for other reasons? Josh is half a foot taller than me, as big as my brother John, and he kind of…loomed in the cozy front room of the trailer, the top of his head only inches from the ceiling.

He looked around after a glance at me. “Nice,” he said. “They told me in the house that you’re going to be staying out here,” he laughed, “because your sis-in-law is afraid of tigers?”

He grinned, and I found myself smiling back. “Well, lions, but yeah?”

Josh laughed, and I made a noise that made him look at me again. My face felt hot, my mouth dry. “You went to the house first?” I asked, my tongue and lips sticky.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “They said you had your own place now.” His eyes crinkled, but he was looking directly at me.

We stared at each other for a moment. A breeze, a bit cooler than most, came in the screen door. A single bug that had managed to infiltrate my space landed on Josh’s shoulder, showing its triangular, miller-moth wings against the blue of his shirt.

I couldn’t think of a thing to say.

He looked away, noticing the tiny 13-inch black-and-white TV that Mom usually watched her soaps and game shows on while cooking, but had loaned to me. “You know,” she’d said. “Something to make noise and keep the bears away.”

Josh seemed to be staring at the little screen way more than it deserved. “You’re going to need a bigger TV,” he said finally.

He was so close. I wanted to reach out and touch him. When he turned his head, I saw a line of dark hairs at the angle of his jaw. He’d shaved and missed a spot. What would that feel like to touch it?

I put a hand to the same spot on my chin, mirror-fashion, just as he turned back to look at me again. “Yeah, huh?” I said.

“What?” he asked, smiling.

“Need a new TV,” I almost whispered.

We were closer. If either of us moved at all, we’d be touching.

A voice came from the open door, Mom saying, “Knock, knock.”

Josh and I tried to move apart, but somehow bumped against each other, making noises like startled ducks.

Mom’s voice had sounded casual, like she’d been there long enough to see more than she was going to say.

“Yeah?” I called, a little too late. I could see her vague outline through the screen, meaning she could probably see Josh and I standing there in the light inside the trailer. Did she need to see anything more? Josh and I had separated, but not by much. The air between us still felt hot enough to sizzle.

I took another half step back, bumping lightly into the edge of the little dinette table. Josh shifted the other way, giving himself something to lean on, one hand finding the brass fixture for the lamp above the couch.

Mom pulled the screen door open a careful few inches, keeping her body mostly outside. A moth slipped in anyway, drawn past her shoulder by the interior lights. Without the screen in the way, she looked directly at me.

“There you are,” she said. Her eyes moved from me to Josh and back again, not lingering, just taking things in. “I brought some lemonade and a piece of cake you can share. It’s got buttercream frosting.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Archer,” Josh said, taking the paper cup of lemonade she handed him. “You told me Bobby was out here, so I came by to check out the new place.”

I got the other cup and the paper plate with two slices of cake, and set the plate down on the counter beside the sink.

I would have rolled my eyes if Mom wasn’t sure to notice. Josh was signalling guilt about something, smirking like a cat with feathers on its chin. Embarrassment rolled off both of us like mist from dry ice.

“Well,” Mom said, glancing around without coming completely into the trailer, “it’s not exactly the Ritz, but it’ll do.” She smiled at me, swaying a bit, balanced apparently on the concrete block John had placed as a step for the little trailer.

I waved jerkily at a miller moth looking for a landing spot on my forehead. Probably a shiny place where I was sweating.

Mom asked. “You getting settled?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Mostly.”

She nodded, satisfied enough. “Don’t stay up too late. School night.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said automatically.

She gave Josh a small, polite smile. “Good to see you, Josh.”

“You too, Mrs. Archer.”

She pushed the screen door closed as she stepped away, making a soft, final-sounding snap. The moths that had made it in circled once and settled again near the light. She walked back toward the house and disappeared into the dimness, leaving Josh and I still standing there.

For a second, neither of us said anything. I took a sip of lemonade and glanced at the slice of cake. Mom had left two plastic forks, too.

Josh let out a breath, like he’d been holding it without noticing. “Your mom’s nice.” He gulped some of the lemonade from his cup.

“Yeah,” I said.

He looked at me again, then away, then back. The spot along his jaw caught the light, that faint line he’d missed. I wondered if he knew it was there.

“I should probably—” he started, then stopped.

“Yeah,” I said, though I wasn’t sure what I was agreeing to.

He swallowed more lemonade and nodded, like that settled something.

“You want any of this cake?” I asked, gesturing at the paper plate on the counter.

“Buttercream,” he said, then swallowed the rest of his lemonade. I took the empty cup he passed me and handed him the paper plate with cake and two forks.

Holding the plate in the palm of his hand, he used one of the forks to shove most of the cake into his mouth.

I made a noise like someone else giggling, then took the plate from him.

“You finish it,” he said. There wasn’t much left but the frosting with the other fork sticking out of it.

Last night, he’d kissed me. What would happen…? I leaned toward him, aware of the paper plate and buttercream frosting between us.

He reached for the latch, hesitated, then opened the screen. A couple more bugs darted in past his shoulder as he slipped out onto the step.

“Night,” he said.

“Night,” I replied with a creak in my voice.

He gave a quick, almost-smile, then turned and dropped down onto the dirt and off into the dark, moving quickly.

I stood there a moment longer, listening to his footsteps fade, then to the quieter sounds of the yard settling back in.

The trailer felt different again. Same walls, same low ceiling. But something had shifted, like the whole place had taken a breath and not quite let it out. Had he even noticed my chest? Would he have said something if he had?

I closed the screen door all the way and flipped the hook into place before finishing off the frosting.I licked a last fleck off my lip, still thinking about kissing Josh.