An hour after Dilly left, the doorbell rang. Asher floated to answer it as if compelled. Behind the door stood Ivan, his shoes sunk in gravel. That lovely face—thin but solid, built to sustain good looks through abusive Siberian winters—distorted into a smirk.

“Hi,” said Asher, the syllable a hard ding on the air.

Ivan entered the apartment. They’d never hung out one-on-one. Asher’s skin buzzed—did Ivan like him? Was he horrified? Was this the beginning of a relationship or the end of a friendship? Or both? He forgot to worry about the mess: towers of paper plates, bagel skins hollowed out and hardening into dried rings.

Asher followed Ivan into the living room. He looked away from the denim-clad butt peeking from under Ivan’s Christmas-red sweater, but he had to notice it was shapely and sweet.

The air was dense, and Asher forced his way through it. Ivan sat on the couch and Asher sat in the desk chair. During book club, no one ever sat on the couch or in the desk chair. Since there weren’t enough real seats, no one indulged.

“I figured out why Hera’s queer.” Ivan’s voice was so flat it barely traveled.

“Really?” Asher tried to fill the room with his exuberance. “That’s amazing. Why?”

“She’s asexual, aromantic, and pansexual.”

“What?” Asher cried, barking a false laugh. “That’s like a punchline.” But Ivan wasn’t smiling. “I guess she earned her spot?”

Ivan grimaced. “I feel bad. She confided in me.”

Sour dripped into Asher’s throat. Was this Ivan’s way of telling him he was embarrassed by Asher’s confession? “Are you okay?”

“Look.” Ivan leaned back against the couch. “Asher. I read your booklet thing.” Ivan slid the booklet halfway out of his pocket. It was so vulgar looking, the raw paper naked in the open air.

Asher gripped the upholstered seat. “Yeah?”

“There’s a lot to say. I love—let’s see.” He took a strained breath. “I guess I love this pre-election hope you have. Like all this nuance about trans issues that’s disappeared now that people are afraid.”

Asher squeezed his fist. “I thought we weren’t supposed to discuss the election.”

“We’re not in a meeting now.”

“So what is this?”

“I suppose that depends whether or not you want to be with a woman.”

“What?”

“Well. I assumed this booklet was your way of hitting on me.”

“Yeah.” The word caught in Asher’s throat. “I mean, I guess, yeah. It was.”

“So don’t be a pussy. If you want to be with me, it’s going to be like being with a woman, right?” He flipped open the booklet. “Like you wrote: being with Ivan will essentially be like being with a woman.”