Now the weather was of a different sort. It swirled around him, but instead of wind and rain, it was made of gossamer, electricity, murmurs, and images. An internet storm. He had never been in a meme before; now he was in two. The “I’ll pass” meme was less famous but cut Dorsey the deepest. He winced at the harshness of his tone. Every time he rewatched it, new little nuances came alive: her mother’s protective frown, Liza’s moment of genuine surprise and embarrassment, then the cool hardening of her face to indifference, and that perfect mouth turning down into a frown. In the other meme, she had photobombed his interview with Jennifer. A GIF of Liza holding out her protest napkin played on a loop with various phrases added to it. “When your ex shows up with his new girlfriend” was one of his favorites. Liza’s curls bounced as she jostled the napkin. Why did I make fun of her hair? Now it was all he thought about.

Sure, it was intense now, but this curiosity would fizzle out like so many of his relationships.

“Rigid.” “Cold.” “Distant.” These were the words people leveled at him when they were tired of pretending to like him because of his money. Some of his past romantic partners were what Gigi called energy vampires, so he always felt too on for them. Most of his relationships would fizzle out from pure exhaustion on his part.

But Liza—and god help him, he couldn’t even have a thought without that woman finding her way in—Liza seemed a little like his best friend, Joseph. Dorsey didn’t feel pressure to perform for her; he was delighted to. He had even teased her outside of the rec center. What do you think I do? It was more fun than most of his first dates, actually.

He met a lot of women through introductions from some well-meaning friend or his meddling sister. But it was hard to get over that hump of awkward emptiness that settled in just before the drinks came.

Then there was the money. People laughed louder at his jokes because of it. They nodded approvingly at his ideas, even when he was full of shit. It was confusing. You either bought into the false adoration and thought you were God’s gift to women or became cynical about everyone’s motives. He had been leaning too far in the cynical direction lately.

But Liza disliked him precisely because of his money, which he found . . . different. She had, in fact, liked him better when she thought he was the waitstaff and invited herself dancing with him.

You’re not even a real Latino.

She had hurled it like the worst insult. Dorsey laughed again.