“Hey now,” Zack said, raising his hands, “we’re all getting way ahead of ourselves here. If you think about it, this is no big deal. I met John, and his face wasn’t a complete tragedy. So what? He still could have been a total douche bag, or socially inept, or a stalker like you said. For all I know, we had nothing in common except for good sex. And yeah, I may have lost the best client I’ve ever had, and I might have really enjoyed talking to him, and sure, he was pretty much my dream guy, but it never would have worked, and why are you both looking at me like that?”

Kira and Alexa’s silence was deafening.

Zack climbed to his feet. “I’m going to bed. You guys are welcome to crash here if you want to pull out the couch. There are extra pillows and blankets in the hall closet.”

Zack left before they could comment, suddenly more tired than he’d ever been in his life. Ziggy was curled up at the foot of his bed, sound asleep. Zack patted his head softly, making sure not to wake him. Thank God for beer, he thought as he undressed and climbed into bed. He fell immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Zack woke up so late the next day, Alexa and Kira had left without saying good-bye. The cushions were still on the couch, but it had been piled high with pillows and blankets, leading him to believe his friends had slept on it as it was. He smiled when he pictured them spooning together on the tiny sofa. At least one good thing had come out of the previous night.

Zack brewed coffee, scrambled eggs, and settled into the nest of blankets on the sofa to watch mindless TV until it was time to go to work. A traitorous mental voice reminded him that on Saturdays, John always called him as soon as he got in.

Zack shut that train of thought down. It was pointless now, and he could feel a fresh wave of misery threatening to wash over him. No matter how hard he concentrated, images from the night before flitted into his head, accompanied by two words: “Hello, Darkling.” Zack slammed his coffee cup down on the table so hard, the wood trembled.

“Fuck this,” he said aloud, burying his face in his hands. “Get your shit together, Hall. He’s gone, and he was never yours anyway. You’re not going to think about him ever again.”

By the time his shift rolled around, Zack had broken and renewed his promise to himself thirty-six times. He’d also started cursing murderously under his breath whenever he did, which made him, for the first time in his life, the crazy person on the bus. He couldn’t bring himself to care.