We walk to Mirror Box holding hands under the moon. I’ve done this walk a billion times, but right now it feels like my first, I suppose because I am a different person—lighter, happier, filled with promise. Everything is in its right place.

Cinnamon notices.

“You’re glow-ing,” she whispers into my ear.

Then she kisses Beau on the cheek.

“This is Daniel.” Cinnamon gestures toward the man beside her, who is frail and afraid and severely lacking in charisma. I can’t believe this is the professor. If he can get a girl like Cinnamon, I figure my dad could probably have anyone. I remember that I need to tell him to stay away from Zoe and that I have a stage name. Ice Forrest.

“Oh, I’m up!” Cinnamon says, and it takes me a second to realize she is about to perform. It’s after 8:00 P.M., and Cinnamon is usually the opener’s opener. Maybe she’s getting better. “Get whatever you want on my tab,” she tells us as she scurries away.

Britney’s “Lucky” comes on, and I ask Beau to get me a Mountain Dew and the professor says, “That sounds great,” and Beau gets us three Mountain Dews, and we all sip them and watch Cinnamon dance clunkily. At one point, Cinnamon attempts a heel clap and misses, causing her legs to twist, and she tips over. I find some cash in my purse and take Beau’s hand and go up to the stage. We throw ones at Cinnamon as she untangles her legs.

I awake to light harsh enough that I know it must be after noon. I worry for a second that the previous night was a dream. Then I feel Beau’s arm around my waist. Lydia is purring at the foot of the bed. She feels safe with Beau, a good sign. He is kin.

Beau pulls me tighter and then whispers into my ear, “Last night was incredible.”

“It was,” I say, and I’m not lying. After Cinnamon danced, we all drank Mountain Dews, and Cinnamon was really on, telling jokes and cracking us all up. Beau got the professor to open up a bit by asking him about his book project, which I heard only snippets of, phrases like “the polymorphism of electral love” and “reverse sexual imprinting.”

We left before midnight.

On the walk, Beau humored me by asking me to rank Winona Ryder’s movies. I took the bait. Girl, Interrupted. Beetlejuice. Edward Scissorhands. Heathers. The Crucible. Beau said he had never seen Heathers but had always wanted to, and I said we should watch it together and he said that would be fun.

Back at my apartment, we fucked again, and the universe expanded and contracted and expanded again. I remember looking briefly at my iPhone and seeing it was 4:00 A.M.

Beau’s phone dings with a notification.