“No, I’m not, anyway. What about you?”

I raised my eyes to his. “How’s Fiona?”

“Charlie, I’ve known her forever . . .”

“It’s fine, I understand.” I bit my lip.

“And what about Julian?”

“That’s hardly comparable.”

He ran his hand over his face. “He’s an open door. All you need to do is walk through it. And you feel something for him too. I can see it when you dance together. I hate to say it but he’d be right for you in all the ways I’m not.”

Now he was trying to set me up with Julian. How much could my heart hurt? I looked away. “Can we talk about something else?”

“You can get fired just for seeing me tonight. I don’t know, I’m so confused.” He hugged me from behind and then, so lightly that I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it or not, he kissed my hair.

I closed my eyes and gathered myself, then turned around. “No more of that.”

He backed away, holding his hands up. “All right. Friends?”

Slowly I nodded.

—

It was a long ride all the way uptown. Ryan was leaning back next to me with his eyes closed, the curve of his neck and jaw revealed above his T-shirt. How strange to be sitting there with him, not rehearsing. It was hard to be heard above the noise of the subway. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Some friend of Felipe’s is giving a party. A whole bunch of people will be there.”

“Are they your friends too?”

“Nah. You might meet some of the kids I coach, see some street dancing too.”

I was excited for this, even apart from being with Ryan. I’d never been to this part of the city, but even more, I’d never been to a party where the social capital was dance. I wondered what Mo Li would think—to her, it’d be an investigation, an exercise in self-broadening. I just couldn’t wait for the music, and the space and freedom to move. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I tucked my arm underneath his and leaned my head against his shoulder. The subway rocked us back and forth. He felt so comfortable, his body familiar. His arm was covered in downy hair, his shirt soft against my cheek. “Ryan?”

“Mmmm?”

“I wish you were a girl.”

I shut my eyes and didn’t hear his answer. The next thing I knew, he was telling me that it was time to get off the train.

—

But then, as soon as we emerged from the subway station, my happy excitement drained away. The sidewalk was dark, lit only by street lamps, and in front of me, a pyramid of black garbage bags was stacked high next to a bus stop. We headed up a street that was deserted except for a few homeless people who were talking to themselves, huddled against the buildings.

“Do me a favor and take my arm, will you?” Ryan said.

We rounded a corner and saw a group of young Latin men, hanging on the street. One was sitting on a fire hydrant, a few were leaning against the buildings, but most of them were huddled around one guy in a dark T-shirt. I grabbed Ryan’s arm and tried to redirect him. I didn’t want to make any sound that would alert them to our presence, but he kept moving forward as if he hadn’t seen anything.

“Ryan!” I hissed.

“It’s all right.” By now, they had seen us and everyone was giving us the once-over. I felt panicked. I kept walking with Ryan, hoping they’d let us through. The man with the dark T-shirt held up both his arms. Ryan released me and strode up to him. I couldn’t breathe.

“Hey, man.” They hugged while I exhaled heavily. Ryan said something to the man in Spanish, to my surprise, and then everyone turned to me. The man Ryan had embraced was looking at me with curiosity, then he extended his hand. “I’m Felipe.”

I shook with him. “Charlie.”

The entire group gathered around us as we started walking.

When Ryan threaded my arm through his again, I whispered, “I’m a little nervous here.”

“You’re fine. You’re with me.”

“When did you learn Spanish?”

Ryan shrugged. “You know, boxing, my job. Lots of the guys speak Spanish. They tell me my accent’s awful.”

Felipe joined us and said, “My mom misses you. She says you have to come over for dinner soon.”

“Yeah, I will. She still worried about you?”

“Every day I hear, ‘Felipe, when you going to stop that boxing? A few more fights, you’ll be in a wheelchair. You’re gonna get Parkinson’s.’”

“She’s right. Wise woman. You should stop getting your butt kicked.”

“I’ll kick your butt. How’s Evelyn?”

“Great. You coming to the wedding? It’s next month.”

“Got my tux ready. Just need to find a date.” Felipe glanced at me and winked. I noticed he didn’t mention Fiona: code of honor among men. I already knew she’d be back for the wedding.

Meanwhile, even though I was holding on to Ryan tightly, all of the men around us were eyeing me. This was something new. For the first time, I was grateful for my sixty-year-old-lady outfit. We halted so someone could get a light for a cigarette, and to my surprise, the young guy walking next to me dropped onto the concrete sidewalk and started doing a rapid series of push-ups. Then he popped up and strode along with the rest of us again.

Ryan bent down and murmured, “I think he likes you.”

I ignored him and said to Felipe, “So, tell me about how you and Ryan met.”

“We met at the mecca of all boxing gyms in Brooklyn and spent our teenage years trying to knock each other out. Just about every serious fighter winds up there. Then we started hanging out in each other’s houses and neighborhoods too.”

Ryan said, “I’ll never forget how that place smelled. No AC, if you slipped on all the sweat, you just went down on those concrete floors. Weights held together by duct tape. But it wasn’t for show. People were polite and respectful and no one cared how much you could bench. It was about doing the work. But boy, could those trainers break your back.”

I looked at him a minute, picturing him in that world. He could feel my eyes on him and turned to me. “What?”

I shook my head. “It’s just—you’ve got this whole macho boxing past. But then you have an apartment filled with orchids and a fluffy fat cat.”

Felipe whooped with laughter. “She’s seen your green thumb, eh?”

Ryan smiled. “I’m a very peaceful guy. I just had a bit of anger to work out in my adolescence, that’s all.”

Felipe snorted. “A bit of anger. Don’t let him fool you, this guy’s got some serious talent. I have the dents in my head to show for it.”

We finally arrived at a large apartment building. Even from the outside, we could hear the music blasting from the top floor. Mambo. We all trailed in. Ryan, Felipe, me and a couple of the other guys fit into the rickety elevator. The rest disappeared into the stairwell. When we stepped out, the hallway was dank and smelled like cabbage. My heart was still pounding hard. Then Felipe banged on the door and we went into the apartment.

Inside, the music was so loud, my eardrums began to ache. I could smell marijuana and a more bitter stench, like kerosene, although I knew it had to be something else. The apartment was filled with young Latin men. Most of them were sitting on the floor against the wall. There were only a few old armchairs and little tables scattered across the room. Small groups huddled by the tables. I followed the guys into the kitchen, which was crowded with bottles of liquor. Felipe turned to me. He was a bit shorter than Ryan, and moved with compact efficiency. Since it was too loud to speak, he made a drinking gesture to ask me what I wanted.

I shrugged. He held up a bottle of Coke and pointed to some rum. I nodded. While he was making my drink, a girl with long dark hair and a prominent Greek nose stepped into the kitchen. I was relieved not to be the only woman there. She smiled at me, then made a smoking gesture with her hand, pretending to bring it up to her lips. She was offering me something other than cigarettes. I smiled as I shook my head, then noticed Ryan in front of me, holding both of our drinks.