“Sure,” I said, and I remembered the Queer Music Festival. “Actually, there’s this music festival I want to go to on Saturday in Golden Gate Park. I know one of the bands that’s playing. The guitarist is Joan’s gardener.”

Speaking about Steph, even without using her name, made my pulse race. I waited for Tasha to ask me about Joan’s gardener, but our order number was called and we had to go get our food. Then Tasha insisted on taking selfies with our burgers and posting them on Instagram to mark the occasion. I wanted to text my photo to Steph, but then I’d have to explain to Tasha who she was, so I didn’t.

I’d ordered my burger animal style as usual, but it didn’t taste as good as it normally did. I felt Steph’s absence beside me almost physically, as if the lack of her had become a charged current thrumming against my skin.

Later, when Tasha went to the bathroom, I sent my photo to Steph and wrote, Wish you were here. She replied immediately: Me too. X

—

When we approached the garden center, I was tempted to stop in, pretend I needed to buy some plants for Joan. Steph would be in the flower section, or maybe restocking pots. I imagined the surprise on her face as she saw me, the way she’d hug me a little too long.

“The light’s green,” Tasha said.

“Oh, sorry.” I accelerated too fast through the intersection and Tasha jerked forward against her seat belt. “Sorry!” I said.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You were totally out of it back there.”

“I’m fine.” I looked in the rearview mirror. I couldn’t see the garden center anymore.

—

Tasha and I had slept over at each other’s houses countless times before. It shouldn’t have felt weird for us to sleep in the same bed, but that night when she climbed in next to me, I noticed the sway of her breasts beneath her tank top. I looked away quickly, suddenly aware of the way the mattress sank in the middle. If I wasn’t careful I could roll into her.

“Is something bothering you?” she asked.

“No, why?”

“You’ve been a little . . . I don’t know. Off.”

“I think I’m just tired,” I said.

She shifted onto her back. “I’m not sleepy,” she announced. “I think all the travel has screwed up my sleep. My body can’t figure out what time zone I’m in. Hey, remember when we were in middle school and we’d stay up all night watching bad cable TV?”

“Don’t forget the cheese puffs.”

“Yeah. Haley would never eat them.” She sounded a little sad.