“Hi,” Max muttered, as if living in a sex cult was like living in a duplex.

“N-nice to meet you,” I managed, my heart thudding audibly in his presence.

Freya asked him. “How was your run?”

I noticed that he was sweaty and breathing heavily. My heart began to flutter. My romantic feelings may have been ambiguous, but at that moment, in the presence of this aggressively masculine specimen, I was decidedly hetero.

“Good,” he said, pulling off his hat, revealing thick black waves of hair. Jesus Christ.

“Join us for a drink?” Freya suggested.

His face darkened. “I’m going take a shower.”

“You’re no fun,” she said to his departing back. And then to me: “He says he’s quit drinking, but I’m not buying it. Anyway . . .” She stood, picking up my glass, which, to my surprise, was empty. “More for us.”

“No, thanks,” I said, but she was already in the kitchen, already refilling both of our glasses.

“You can’t let me drink alone, Low.”

Freya returned and handed me the glass. She’d brought the bottle with her, which I instinctively knew was a bad sign. Or was it a good sign? I felt giddy and relaxed and happy, and I didn’t want it to end. So I went with it.

“So . . . ,” Freya said, continuing her inquiry, “are you excited for your graduation?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “School sucks.”

“I hated it, too.”

“Really?”

Freya was so pretty, so charismatic. She had to have been popular.

“I couldn’t wait to get out into the world and start my life for real. Are you going away to college? Traveling?”

“I’m taking a gap year,” I said, my practiced answer. “I’ll hang out here and figure out what I want to do with my life.”

My teachers and counselors had pressured me to apply to colleges. I’d focused on general arts programs at West Coast schools and been accepted by all of them. I’d even been offered scholarships to a few, but I had deferred, citing a need for a break. My parents thought I should travel for a year—preferably to Eastern locales that would open my mind and prompt a spiritual awakening. But I was too intimidated. I had never been accepted by my peers. Why would I think that a world full of strangers would embrace me? And now, I had Freya. For the first time, I felt warm and welcome and accepted.

“I’m glad,” she said, draining the bottle into both of our glasses. “I like having you around.”

“I like being around.”

I wanted to grab the words out of the air and swallow them back down. Freya’s proclamation had sounded casual and breezy; mine sounded creepy and obsessive. And needy and gross. So I changed the subject.

“I have a joint.”

I didn’t smoke a lot of pot. Or maybe I just didn’t smoke a lot of pot compared to my dad and the cool kids at my school. But I usually had a joint in my wallet, just in case. A few tokes could enhance a sunset or take the edge off a stressful social situation.