Because I hadn’t been camming. Because of Blue.

A suspicion flickered in my mind.

“Would you ever hire someone to . . . distract me?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You looking for an escort? I know some guys. I’m offended you didn’t ask me first, though.”

“No, you bozo.” I had to laugh. “Never mind. And who do you know?”

“Some guys.”

“Some guys. Right.”

He winked.

Like me, Dane was primarily attracted to the opposite sex, but he hooked up with men, too. I wondered if he’d ever fallen in love with another man. If it made him question whether he was really bi. And I hoped he wasn’t playing me, because I needed a friend who understood what this was like.

Dane checked his watch. “Ready to meet the man of your dreams?”

“I have a feeling I already have.”

The walk to the café felt surreal. My head floated a dozen stories up, observing from a bird’s-eye view: the city gleaming with an oil-paint glaze, cars and feet flowing through the warrens of Boston. Two people walking to a café. Two stories, one about to begin, the other to end.

Ellis and I went into an upscale hipster coffeehouse, all unstained hardwood and riveted steel. Track lights twinkled in the crisp air like champagne bubbles. We took a table on the mezzanine and I emailed Blue.

I’m here

Two syllables. The sound my heart was making, over and over.

When I looked up, Ellis was watching me. Our hands joined under the table. I hung on for dear life.

Thank you, I mouthed.

No response. But she was hanging on to me, too.

Below us Dane walked in, bought a latte, and sat near the window.

This was it.

The meeting was set for two p.m. At ten till I was a mess, breathing fast, my heart kicking down my ribs like a wild bull. Every time the café door opened I nearly leaped from my seat. Two o’clock came and went. Maybe his plane was delayed. Two fifteen. He got stuck in traffic. Two thirty. Dane left.

Ellis watched me more than the door. Her thumb moved over the back of my hand, steady, a little metronome of sanity.

Three o’clock. I stopped refreshing my email every thirty seconds.

Dane came back in wearing a track jacket, and glanced up before buying a bear claw and sitting beneath us.

I took a deep breath. “Blue bitched out.”

Ellis said nothing. My pulse slowed enough to distinguish it from hers: hers was still fast, nervous.

She liked things scheduled and organized. Settled. This was chaos.

where are you, Blue?

I checked the weather. Plane delays. Road accidents. Someone died on the Maine Turnpike that afternoon. Water lying like silver silk on the macadam. Tires that couldn’t bite through it. Skid, smash. No seat belt.

Buckle up, kids. Unless you’re so tired and beaten you’d rather die.

At half past three I bought lattes. By four, the pale light flooding through the windows dimmed and faded. At four thirty I went to pee.

I’m leaving at five

where the fuck are you?

As I left the stall, my phone buzzed in my hand. I was so startled I nearly threw it.

vada.

don’t be angry with me.

Guaranteed way to piss me off.

you’re not coming, are you?

I was afraid to move, my entire being focused on this tiny phone screen.

The next email came while I washed up at the sink.

i saw you, with red.

holding her hand.

you looked right at me. through me.

i watched you together.

and i knew it was wrong.

coming between you two.

vada, i felt something real for you.

i still do.

but your heart belongs to someone else.

it’s wrong of me to ruin that.

what i’ve done is wrong.

i hope someday you can forgive me.

yours, always,

blue.

Everything in me was going a hundred miles an hour. Then it hit:

you looked right at me.

He was here.

I ran out of the bathroom, crashing into someone on their way in. Mumbled apology. Blurred lights, a swirling cacophony of voices. I dashed beneath the mezzanine and looked up.

Ellis stood, peering down. “Vada?”

“He was here.”

I stumbled through a couple at the door and onto the street.

Commuters flooded past, umbrellas up, small pearls and crystals of rain rolling off and shattering on the asphalt. A taxi pulled away from the curb and I chased it into traffic but when I grabbed the door handle, a shocked woman’s face stared out. Mist collected on my skin. Any man that passed could have been him. Fine, pale hands. That’s all I knew. Aside from the way he’d made me feel, the way he’d laced his fingers into my heart and unraveled it. Was that what I’d have to do? Pry my ribs open and see whose hands fit, whose fingers were stained with the same red inside me?

I walked up and down the block, peering into every face. Looking for Max, or someone I knew. Anyone. Only strangers. Then Ellis and Dane appeared like angels, one on either side.

“What happened?” Dane said.

Ellis clung to my arm, eyes wide.

“He stood me up. That fucking asshole stood me up. He was here. He saw us, and bailed, like a little bitch.”

People on the street side-eyed me. I wanted to snarl, What the fuck are you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen someone getting their heart broken?

“Why?” Ellis said.

I shook my head. “I’ll explain later. I just—I want—”

Across the street, a bar sign glowed warmly through the rain.

“I want to get shitfaced.”

Three White Mexicans later—tequila, Kahlua, and horchata— I felt a lot less shitty about this whole stupid scenario.

Dane matched me with Moscow mules. Ellis was still on her second amaretto sour, but she was easily the drunkest.

“Let’s play a game,” she said.

The bar bustled, sweat sparkling in the air, Ed Sheeran crooning “I’m a Mess” on the sound system. Scents of fish and chips and vinegar wafted from the kitchen. Ellis and I sat crammed in a small booth, Dane straddling a chair across from us.

“What’s your game, Red?” he said.

“Never Have I Ever.”

“It’s a trick,” I said. “She always wins. She’s pure of heart.”

Ellis gave us an airy look. “It’s okay if you’re not up to the challenge.”

The later it got, the calmer and more confident she got. It curdled in my gut, knowing she was relieved I wasn’t spending the night with a stranger. Because Blue bailed. Not because I’d chosen her.

Dane signaled a server, and Ellis ordered eight shots of Johnnie Walker Blue. Dane whooped. I put a hand on her arm.

“Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t order it just for the sake of irony.”

“I’m ordering it because it’s expensive and ironic.”

“You can’t stand whiskey. You’re going to puke it all back up.”

“Unless I beat you.”

I folded my arms. Ellis raised an eyebrow, defying me.

“Red’s throwing down,” Dane said.

I met her stare for stare. “You’re on.”

When the shots arrived she arranged them in two neat rows.

RULES OF NEVER HAVE I EVER:

1. Someone says, “Never have I ever” done something.

2. Anyone who has done that does a shot.

3. If no one drinks, the first person does a shot.

“Three shots and you’re out,” she said. “Last man standing wins.”

“Who’s first?” I said.

Dane shrugged. “I vote Red. Let’s see how dirty she plays.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” I warned. “Her IQ is probably a multiple of yours.”

“Be nice,” Ellis said.

“Floor’s yours, brainiac.”

She eyed us coolly. “Never have I ever kissed everyone at this table.”

Shit.

I delayed a few seconds, poker-faced, then grudgingly picked up a shot. Liquid smoke and hot toffee. My chest burned.

Ellis and Dane gaped at each other.

“You kissed him?” she said.