When I push through the door, I overestimate how much power I need to use and it bangs loudly against the wall. Raj, thank god, is working tonight, drying glasses behind the bar. He glances up when he sees me and flinches in a double take. There’s just one available seat, smack-dab in the middle of the row of bar stools. In an ideal world, Golden Years would be empty so we could have this conversation privately, with dignity. But this is New York—always packed, especially when you wish it wasn’t—and so I’m just going to have to say what’s on my mind with three inches of elbow room on each side.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

There’s no edge to his voice. He sounds purely confused.

“I’m here to apologize,” I say plainly. “I’m here to tell you that I like you. I’m here to say that I should’ve acknowledged that we could be more than just friends a long time ago. I didn’t—that was wrong. But if you’ll let me, I’d like to make it up to you.”

He puts down the glass and the dishrag. “How?” he asks.

“I’m here if you want me,” I say. “I’m choosing you. For real. You’re not just my fallback guy for when I’m sad.”

I can feel the people on either side of me turning away to give us more space. Raj’s face is frozen solid with anxious anticipation. I barrel on.

“You’re special, you know that, right? You’re my favorite person to talk to. You’re ridiculously thoughtful. You’re genuine and funny and supportive, and I’d be so lucky if we could be a part of each other’s lives.”

He exhales. For a moment, I can’t read his expression. The soaring sense of adrenaline I’ve been running on starts to wear thin. I wish there weren’t this thick wooden bar blocking the space between us.

“What are you saying?” he asks slowly.

“I want to give us a shot,” I say. “I want us to go out on dates to real restaurants that serve more than just mozzarella sticks. I want us to curl up on my couch to watch Netflix together. I want to kiss you for real and have you kiss me back. I understand if this is all too little, too late. But if I don’t tell you now, I know I’ll regret it.”