“Just wondering. I know how important that is for you.”

“She’s certainly not in her twenties.”

I nod, and if he cannot see it, that’s his problem. A small, leaden weight coalesces at the bottom of my stomach. Rolls and churns around. “I don’t…you and I are not romantically linked, Conor. We have periodic check-ins in which you make sure that I’m not desperately in love with you, that I understand the score. That we’re just friends. I didn’t hallucinate them, right?”

“No.”

“Are you going to quit talking to Eli and Minami? They’re your friends, too.”

“It’s not the same.”

“You’re right, it’s not. You and Minami were in a years-long romantic relationship. Your new girlfriend”—the word tastes like manure—“would probably insist on you cutting ties with her. But why would she care about me?”

The quiet on the other end is so deep, I wonder if he hung up. Then: “Maya, have you been seeing anyone?”

Every relationship has a few potentially inflammatory topics to steer away from. For some it’s politics, or fracking, or ethical hunting. But Conor and I share a lot of values. We see eye to eye on most issues, with some nuance that drags us into hours-long rabbit holes of arguments and Come the fuck on and Ha, gotcha! I enjoy them. He does, too.

What we never, ever talk about is whom we see when we’re not together. Not that I have anything to share.

“Where is this coming from?”

A beat. “Last week, Eli was talking about you with one of the junior analysts.”

“Who?”

“Cameron,” he says. “I forget his last name. He has an interesting background. Started out as a physicist, ended up with us.”

“I did not know about the physics-to-hedge-fund pipeline.”

“For the last time, we do not run a hedge fund, Maya.”

“Sure. And how is this related to you no longer wanting to be my friend?”

“Eli offered to see if you were interested. Maybe set you two up. Said that you hadn’t dated anyone in years.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck. “Thank you for thinking of me, but I don’t need to be introduced to someone who studied physics. I live my entire life surrounded by physicists. If I wanted to date one, I would simply wander UT’s hallways and help myself to the first relativistic mechanics freak who also happens to be unable to change a flat tire—”

“That’s not it.”

I don’t like what I’m hearing in Conor’s voice. I don’t like not knowing what the it in question refers to. “I do not keep Eli abreast of all my romantic activities. Not to mention, I’m not interested in most of the guys around me—”

“I think you should be. I think that you should…we both should focus on forming relationships with people who are more appropriate—”

“Age-appropriate?”

“That, too. Maya, let’s be blunt. Our relationship may not be romantic in nature, but the way it’s structured makes it hard to explain to others.”