“I totally get it,” I say. “Let me know if I can help at all. Maybe we can take him to the movies or something.”

“I think he’d love that. Thank you.”

And I want to reach across the table to kiss him, but I know there are people around who’ll probably give us the side-eye, and really, I probably taste like sweat, which is gross. I just lean back in my seat to look at the menu. It’s fine. I can be patient. I see plenty of time for kissing in our future.

Becca

Hey, sorry, shit’s been off the rail. Call me?

After I get home, I take a shower and take a long-ass nap. I wake up just after five to a text message from Becca saying she’s finally ready to talk.

So I FaceTime her, and she’s sitting on her bed with her Yorkie, Noodles.

“Hey, stranger,” she says.

I roll my eyes. “What’s going on? I haven’t heard from you in forever.”

She sighs, patting Noodles on the head once before setting him down. He seems to understand that FaceTime means no Noodles time, because he gives a little grunt before jumping off the bed.

“You know, there’s school, and . . .” She trails off. “Well, I started talking to this girl.”

I squeal, and she rolls her eyes. “No, really, who is she? Tell me!”

Becca sighs again and says, “I’ll tell you everything, but don’t get mad, okay?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Why would I be mad?”

“It’s Gina Paris.”

I freeze, my lip curling just a little bit. So, Gina Paris is this girl from our—well, Becca’s—school, and she’s the cute, perky type with luscious flowing hair and a TV-star smile. Kinda reminds me of Maggie, minus the palate for “exotic” cuisine. Anyway, the problem is she’s also part of this group called Forward Thinkers on campus that’s all about feminism and women’s rights, which, by their definition, only includes cis women.

“Why are you talking to Gina Paris? Getting the homework?”

Becca rolls her eyes. “I knew you’d get mad.”

“Of course I’m mad!” I say. “You’re flirting with a TERF!”

“She’s not a TERF!” Becca says. “Really, she’s not. I’ve spoken to her about it. She supports trans women. She just can’t get the rest of the group on board.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Super convenient.”

Becca groans. “Whatever. Look, the point is, we aren’t talking anymore, okay? It didn’t work out, and I’ve just been really over it.”

We fall quiet, and I don’t really know what to say. I mean, I’m sorry is usually the expected response, but I’m not, really. I want Becca to be happy, but she can be happy with someone who isn’t a TERF. That seems like the obvious answer.