Poppinpoppyseed replied: You really are the love expert. So happy for you guys!

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“Did you pack yet?”

I roll my eyes, my phone in my lap as I wait for Drew to text me back. “It’s only Wednesday!”

“Yeah, but you’re not packing Friday morning, so you should just do it now.”

“There’s still a day in the middle, brother.”

All of my free time has pretty much been occupied by Drew, so when Brian asked me to rewatch Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood with him, I couldn’t really say no. I mean, I could, but I wasn’t going to do that.

And with Brian so fixated on Maggie—and them planning on spending the entirety of their free time on Thursday together doing whatever straight couples do—it only seemed fair that I give him some decent company for a while. You know, someone who doesn’t treat him like a cheap Japanese restaurant.

Now we’re splayed out in front of the TV, fresh empanadas between us, and he’s decided to take this brotherly bonding moment to lecture me over my last-minute packing plans. Typical.

I keep trying to squeeze in some DM responses, but between stuffing my face and reading subtitles, it’s kind of hard. We’ve been sitting here for almost two hours and I’ve only gotten one and a half done.

“You’re spending an entire weekend in a cabin. You’re gonna die if you forget something,” Brian says.

“Stop treating me like a diva.”

“You are a diva. You’ve always been a diva. You’ll die a diva.”

I groan, turning my face down long enough to close out my response and hit send. Then I freeze, smacked in the face the way only a sudden memory of something important can.

“Hey, Brian, can I borrow your credit card?” I ask.

“Why?”

“I want to get a binder for the trip,” I say. I’d been putting off getting one because really, I’m pretty damn flat-chested, and I don’t get a whole lot of dysphoria from that region, but after the trip to the Paradise Cove, I feel like I ought to have one. You know, especially if I’m spending a weekend in the woods with a bunch of people I barely know.

Brian shakes his head. “Use your own card.”

“Can’t,” I say. “Mom made it very clear it’s only for food and the occasional transportation.”

“Then go to Target, and buy it with cash.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Dude, what kind of Target sells quality binders?”

He looks at me like I just called tofu “vegan culture.” “Literally all of them? They’re in the office section?”

I groan, throwing my head back for dramatic effect. “Not a binder,” I say, miming opening a book with my hands. Then I motion to my chest, lips pressed together. “A binder.”