“Huh? Oh, no. Twenty-twenty the last time I got an eye exam. Why?”

“Well, when I saw you looking at your phone earlier, you were squinting really hard, and I just wondered.”

“Oh. Right. That.”

“Sorry, is it something I shouldn’t ask about?”

“No, no, that’s fine. My vision is good but . . . I have trouble reading. So, sometimes doing stuff on my phone can be kind of a nightmare for me.”

“Oh. Like dyslexia?”

“Bingo. And some other learning disorder-related stuff.”

“Is that why you voice-message instead of text?”

“Yup. And I’ve found a lot of other strategies to manage it. But sometimes, when you’re in a dark club with flashy lights and you can’t voice-activate your phone, you just have to squint like an old man and try to decipher your contact list.”

“Ah. I understand.”

“It’s funny.”

“What is?”

“Well, I’m not ashamed of it anymore. I used to be terrified of someone finding out about it and I went to all these lengths to hide it, but over the years I’ve really come to terms with who I am. But, yeah, right now I’m learning that apparently I can still be a little embarrassed when I’m telling a pretty girl about it. It’s surprising, is all.”

“We’ve all got our stuff, Eliot.”

“You too?”

“Oh, I definitely have my stuff. I’d tell you that you have nothing to be embarrassed about, but it sounds like you already know that.”

“Yeah. Sometimes you just have to let embarrassment run its course, I think. That’s the only way to get rid of it.”

“True. Hey. Why’d you assume I’m pretty?”

“Oh. You had to turn down a few people at the club. I just figured you’re probably cute.”

“Ha. Wow. Cute is . . . not it. And honestly? I could be wearing a Charlie Brown pillowcase over my head and still get hit on at the club.”

“Ah. I get it. So, you must be stacked, then.”

“I—”

“Oh, my God, can we please go back in time and space to a dimension where I didn’t say that? Jesus, Eliot. NO! Go back!”

“You sound like you’re attempting to perform a magic spell right now.”

“I’m waving my hands through the air like a wizard. People are crossing the street to get away from me.”

“There goes your inner manic pixie dream girl again.”

“Seriously though, I wish I hadn’t said that. Did it offend you?”

“Eliot, do I sound like it offended me?”

“No. You sound . . . hey, JD?”

“Yeah?”

“Now can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You know how you aren’t telling me who you are?”

“I’m familiar, yes.”

“Well, is it a game to you? Because it’s fun? Or . . . is there a real reason?”

“. . .”