—Nah, your mom is cool.

Hush held the beer in her mouth before swallowing. The aftertaste was sour and made her tongue numb. Bobby took a bite of steak, being careful not to make funny noises. He could hear himself chew.

—Well, when you spend so much time without anyone to talk to, you realize that the word is often wasted on bullshit. I rather keep to myself.

He washed the food down with the beer, licking his lips and making them shiny.

—So why you talking to me if you like being so private?

—I don’t know. He watched her pull her hair out of a knot and shake it loose around her head. She yawned and looked at the time.

—If I don’t sleep, I’ll never get to school on time tomorrow.

—It’s good to learn things. Bobby pointed at his head and raised his eyebrows. He pretended he wasn’t staring at her as she walked into his bedroom. She was probably sleeping on his bed. Smelling up his sheets. Shedding her hair all over his pillow.

Dallas sneaked up on Peter. He waited for her outside school, leaning against the parking meter. She pulled off his baseball cap. He turned around to hit her and when he saw who it was, he grabbed her under his arm. They walked toward his father’s place, not too far from school.

She was nervous. Peter was in college and had probably had sex with plenty of girls before. This was the first time they’d be alone. She had met him a few times at work. But he took off from work so they could spend quality time together. He wore a Puerto Rican flag around his neck because his father was stationed in Puerto Rico when he was born.

—I was born in Puerto Rico too, Dallas said. —I was there seven months. My moms went there after D.R., before New York.

—Oh yeah? Peter wasn’t listening. He was checking her out. According to Peter, Dallas had talent. That’s what him and his friends called it when a girl had big breasts: talent.

Peter pushed open the door with his foot and held it so Dallas could walk in front of him.

His father’s apartment was a one-bedroom. Peter slept on the couch when he stayed with his dad, but since his dad wasn’t home, Peter walked Dallas to the bedroom and left her there while he turned on the radio. It smelled like dirty socks and sweat. It was a male smell that Dallas knew all too well, from sharing a room with Bobby.

—Wanna drink something? he asked as he peeled off one layer.

—Why not? she said and he disappeared again to the kitchen. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights, so Dallas didn’t either. There was enough light coming in from the windows. She sat back on his father’s pillows. They hadn’t been washed in a long time. They smelled like morning breath.

Dallas opened the bedstand drawer. Condoms and lubricants. One had been used. By his father, she hoped, and wondered if she was in way over her head with Peter. She closed the drawer and smiled over at Peter, who had a glass of orange juice in each hand. He handed one over to her, but there was nowhere she could place it. She inched away from the drawer with the used condom, the dirty pillows and tried not to look repelled. His father’s room was filled with little papers and business cards. His floor a mess of shoes and clothes, stacks of newspapers and magazines.