“I don’t know about that,” North said. His lips were smooth and innocent, but he had one of those annoying North smiles bright in his eyes. For some reason, he kept looking at Shaw like the best joke in the world was landing. “What were you wearing?”

“Just regular—”

“Don’t answer,” Shaw said, squeezing Matty’s arm. It was hard not to keep squeezing. The boy looked like a boy: the hint of softness in his cheeks that couldn’t hide fine cheekbones, the long, golden lashes, the schoolboy blush. Shaw felt his own face heat. Damn North for putting that word in his head. But when Shaw touched Matty’s arm, he felt the firm musculature of a man, not a boy—that snapshot span of years between adolescence and adulthood that so many gay men fantasized about. “You’re just encouraging him.”

“Anyway, that’s where I met him. I don’t know his name. I know that’s stupid, but he said he thought it was hot that way, and—” He cut off, his eyes wide and searching out Shaw.

“And it was?” Shaw said.

Matty nodded. “Kind of.”

“Shaw knows exactly what you’re talking about,” North said. “Isn’t that right, Shaw? He’s got to keep a photo lineup by his bed in case he brings one of them back a second time.”

“He’s an idiot,” Shaw said. “Ignore him.”

“At least, that’s what he used to do.”

“Really: just ignore him.”

“Shaw, wait a minute. We need to talk about this. You mean all those pictures you kept under your mattress in college—”

“Anyway.” Shaw desperately tried to find a spot in the office to look at where he couldn’t see Matty or North looking at him. “You guys hit it off?”

“Yeah. I hadn’t meant for it to go that far. I kept telling myself I was just going out for a drink, just to see what it was like. I didn’t want anything else. I just wanted to feel normal for one night, do what other guys do.”

“Did you go home with him?”

Matty chewed his lip for a moment. His hand slid up to snag Shaw’s again without him seeming to be aware of it. He blinked slowly and then said, “The way it happened, he started off the night sitting at the other end of the bar. And I knew he was watching me. And he bought me a drink after I’d been there awhile—just sent the bartender down, didn’t make a big deal out of it. But over the course of the night, he kept getting closer. I’d talk to someone, and when I’d glance over, the guy had moved a few stools closer. On and on like that until we were sitting next to each other, and he made some dumb joke, and I laughed.”

“When was this?”

“Saturday.”

Shaw chewed on that for a moment. Today was Thursday. Five days had passed before Matty came to them for help; Shaw filed that away. “What did he look like?”