“I know you’re scared,” Jane said. Her eyes big and wet, and the music behind them a song about partying every Saturday night. “But we should try. We’ll both fuck up, but we can forgive each other.”

Ayanna forced her shoulders down. She nodded and picked at the remaining Tater Tots with her free hand, Jane seemed to be fascinated by the swirl of creamer in her cup. A tear was on her nose and dripped down onto the table. She wanted to ask Jane how she could believe in families at all. Instead, Ayanna squeezed her friend’s hand twice and then sat quietly holding it across the jam-stained table.

They felt too young and tender while surrounded by drunk people sobering up in the early morning. Sitting in silence and hearing the loud conversations swirling around them, the world felt large and filled with people who had never brushed fingers with tragedy. Each Tater Tot was perfect to Ayanna, a little crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside. Somehow, not at all greasy. They agreed to order more.

Jane told Ayanna she’d kissed Marti earlier today. Ayanna knew she was on their soccer team but couldn’t remember if Marti was the tall half-Chinese right back or if Marti was the short Black girl who had joined the team to “have a new experience” but who looked terrified anytime someone asked her if she wanted to be subbed on. She wondered if Jane was a campus celebrity like the white guy everyone pointed out to her who liked to wear a cowboy hat every time he got intimate and had convinced two girls to let him get on their backs and ride them like horses before things could really get started. But the dick was great, everyone said, ten out of ten. Wild that someone so cringe could give it out so well, both girls had said.

“Do you think it makes me a bad person to keep hooking up with people?”

“Well, this one was only a kiss.”

Jane nodded. “But it’s not always that. And while I think it’s fun, and I always have, you know, consent, it’s still people’s feelings.” She paused. “I’m glad you’re not one of those people who say ‘Well, men do it all the time,’ as if that means it’s okay.”

“Oh, I hate that as a justification. There are plenty of people who pull bullshit moves and get away with it. People deserve better.”

Then, they decided the time for earnest conversations was over and instead discussed Jane’s upcoming Halloween party. It would be the night of the holiday for once. A friend was making a punch that he called “Dracula’s Draft,” which felt very Midwestern mom.