Now, Nicole felt herself to be gazing at, well, not an alien. Just a stranger.

Then she laughed at herself. Look in the mirror and see a stranger. She really had become a boring old straight woman. Scram! Go gush about Charlize Theron, you hag! And she walked into the chilly night with a giggle. If her life had come to this, it wasn’t a bad life, was it? No, no, not a bad life at all. She put her wipers on high, turned on some old pop-punk, and drove down Tecumseh pogoing in her seat, singing and hitting the steering wheel in the pissing January rain. She had a good job and her own apartment, and she went on dates and lived in a silly-ass little town where most people seemed to like her. It wasn’t a bad life at all.

She got there early and got a booth. Her sister had texted—she was down to a few packs of ramen and needed a few hundred to get her to next month; if Nicole had anything to spare, she’d really appreciate it …

And so Nicole was staring at her phone, tired as a scarecrow, when Ant rolled up with a highball and said, “I just had the wildest Uber driver of my whole life!” He launched into the story like Nicole was already an old friend. The cab driver was from BC. He had gone to jail for something or other, lived with his daughter who’d moved here for a guy, and now was sick of driving. Wanted to get into the restaurant business. “I told him I was a cook and the rest of the ride he’s like, ‘Tell me how you start. I think I’d be good at it!’” Ant laughed, but it was without a trace of unkindness. “Some fuckin’ people.”

He had bright black eyes that were deep and curious. His stubble was shaved, but he still had beard shadow. He spoke slowly and earnestly, as if he was worried you wouldn’t catch everything. He wore a plaid button-up shirt under a hoodie (this town).

Within minutes, Nicole knew she wouldn’t fall for Ant, but she also knew something else: she liked him. She liked him. She knew that. She let him talk. He’d been out west, working construction and restaurant gigs, lived in Banff for a while. “It’s like Disneyland for rich people.” He worked in this restaurant on Pillette. “I used to bartend on the West Side. It’s crazy, man. I can’t even go into Billie’s anymore. I’ll be doing shots ’til four in the morning.” He said he usually didn’t like going to bars. “I just know too many people.”

“Sorry!” Nicole said. “We didn’t have to meet in a bar. I’m not even a big drinker. I just—I’d rather meet people in public.”

“A safety thing, totally,” Ant enthused. “I was too forward about dinner at my place. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. Next time?”

“Yes, please!” he said, as cheerful as he’d said everything else.