“I made a mental note to call. Later.Tomorrow. Next month. Or January.”

“Do you know what I did to the last guy that called me Tinkerbelle?""Slept with him?"Darryl was silent for a second. "After that.”

“I like you,” I said honestly. “Even though you’re probably a criminal and are going to get me thrown off the force. And you kicked me. Broke my nose. Made me gay and refused to kiss me.”

“Ask me for money, Peter.” I grabbed his wrists and pushed him against the wall.He looked everywhere but at me, no attempt to free himself. He was definitely stronger than I, but right that second I didn’t care if he was being patronizing. If it forced him to answer me, then patronizing I’d take.“No,” he murmured.“Ask me for money, goddamn you.” I punctuated it with a slam of his wrists, hard enough to jar, but not painful—I hoped. The next time my shirt wouldn’t be there to cushion it. I wasthat pissed.“I have!” He spat back, easily extricating his hands and pushing me away. I grabbed his arm, turning him around.“For Cai. For sex. Not for you. You’d rather go fuck a bunch of strangers—”“I don’t fuck anyone but Darryl anymore,” he denied. “It’s just a show for a bunch of voyeurs. No one gets hurt.”“I get hurt!”“I don’t have any other way, Austin.”“You have me. Ask me,” I said, hating the pleading sound in my voice.“No.”“Jesus Christ, why the fuck not?”“Because I don’t want you to be a fucking trick!” The shout was so loud I felt the vibrations along my spine.”

“I looked at our hands, caked and coated in red, but entwined. The pristine moment when they were clasped like that earlier in the day seemed weeks ago."Clean." Peter said."Can I get a water bottle or something to clean his hands?" I scanned the crowd. He drew my attention back to him with a pull of my hand."No," Peter said. "I'm...clean."I had missed who Peter was until that very moment.I had called him names and treated him callously. I had read every micro expression in a vacuum of how it related to Austin Glass. And in return Peter had cared for my wounds, treated me tenderly and assured me that he was HIV negative while bleeding out in a hallway of strangers.I broke. It wasn't a visible fracture. I didn't sob or explode into anguish. I didn't give in to my vomitus urge that came from the burst of self-loathing. But I shattered nonetheless.”

“Bunny Slippers watched my appraisal for at least a fullminute before clasping his hands and resting them on the table.“You stand in the doorway, clothes sticking to you like you justgot out of the shower and didn’t dry off.” I hadn’t dried offactually. “Your hair is wet like it’s been raining, but it’s nearninety outside. You glare at me for a good ten minutes beforeyou come over. Sit across from me in my booth, without aninvitation. Don’t introduce yourself. Don’t say hello. Youannounce you’re not gay, but that I made you gay, and I amconfusing you?Well, when he said it like that.”

“I start thinking that maybe God’s plan is I make him more of a man and less of a boy. “I think I was wrong. Some men will always be boys.”"I start thinking that maybe God’s plan is I make him more of a man and less of a boy." “I think I was wrong. Some men will always be boys.”