Dorsey knew she did. He was stuck there momentarily, gazing at her. She walked up to the building and pressed her fist onto the glass. Then she pretended to crank her middle finger until it was straight. Ah, she must have heard about her new sponsor. He stepped out of the revolving door. Once again, he found himself anticipating her reaction.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His heart was hammering like a son of a bitch.

“This is my city government. I have a right to be here.” Liza held up her sign. One side read Trans Rights Are Human Rights; the other read Vote No on Prop B.

“Where are your comrades?” Dorsey asked.

“Don’t you mean our comrades, Gold Sponsor? Thank you for joining the fight.” Liza said this like she had won something.

Wait, had she won? Dorsey wanted to get a better look at the activism he was funding.

“Let me see that sign.” This had all seemed brilliant a few weeks ago.

“Oh no, you don’t. I know what you do with signs.” She held her sign behind her back. Dorsey thought if he reached for it, he could feel her pressed against him again. He balled his fist instead.

“No combustibles.” Dorsey held his hands up, then unbuttoned his blazer. “Search me,” he offered. Liza touched the inside of his jacket. For a half second, he thought she would touch his stomach.

“Silk lining . . . Shit.” She was more impressed with his clothing than with him. “Just checking for vape pens.”

Dorsey laughed, then held out his phone. “ ‘Vote no on Prop B’ is next Wednesday. The trans rally was last Wednesday. You have the right place, at least.” He buttoned his jacket.

“Right place wrong time is kind of my brand,” Liza said. It was a criminal offense how easily charmed by her he was. She wore a snug cream turtleneck sweater. Snug made him think of that warm night in the nap pod.

He wanted a redo.

He would be much more efficient with his time. He scanned her black leggings and black fur boots. He needed to find something safe to focus on. Her hair was in long twists down her back, and she wore a black beanie and the biggest pink glasses he’d ever seen. Her lips were two-toned like his—a soft pale brown at the top and a lush full pink at the bottom. Something she was wearing made them look like she’d just licked them. He didn’t want to stop looking at her.

“My friend thinks he knows the best place for drinks in DC. Do you want to prove him wrong?” Dorsey asked. He didn’t know how he knew that this way of asking her out would yield better results, but the proof was in her offended pose.