I can’t believe I let myself get talked into this dinner party tonight. I was already dreading seeing Parker and Ben, but now I have to put on a happy face when all I want to do is stay in bed. After catching a cab home from The Juarez last night, I slept until noon. That only gave me five hours of proper moping time, which I used to my advantage to catch up on Netflix binging. Now I have to endure nauseating couples, straight boys in denial, and total lushes.

I haven’t heard from Parker in the week since our encounter. Not that I expected him to reach out. I know I was just an experiment, and his radio silence confirmed it. He could have gotten my number from Ben or Craig, or even Zach, if he’d wanted to contact me.

I haven’t heard from Ben, either, and I did expect to hear from him. At the very least, an apology or a thank you for not leaving him passed out in a bar bathroom.

I scour my closet, skipping over the yoga pants that are calling to me. Do I want to dress sexy to show Ben what he missed? Do I want to dress conservatively to help Parker in case he’s still freaking out over what we did?

When I first started to present myself out in the world as nonbinary, I thought about each and every article of clothing, bit of makeup, and hairstyle. Who was I seeing? What would their reaction be? Would it be better to present more male or female or neither? What would make me feel the most confident? What would be the safest? Over time, and partially because I thought I was in a supportive work environment, it has become seamless. It no longer requires conscious thought, and I liken it to someone learning a new language. At first, you take a phrase and translate it word by word until you understand the meaning, but eventually, with enough practice and internalized knowledge, you understand the phrase as soon as you hear it, without needing to translate it into English first.

I stop short when I realize I’m falling into old traps, thinking about the comfort of others instead of myself. I need to dress in a way that makes me feel the most comfortable and confident, damn it, especially after losing my job. Everyone else can deal.

With that in mind, I saunter from the cab I took here, up the steps to Craig and Zach’s new home wearing a skin-tight, ankle-length skirt, my heeled boots, and a black blazer with nothing underneath. My hair’s so straight and silky, you can practically see your reflection in it, and the only thing breaking up my bare makeup-free skin from my forehead to my navel is a black velvet choker. I don’t care if it’s freezing outside, I feel sexy and powerful, and that’s what I need to get through this evening.

“Wow,” Zach says as he opens the door, and my spine gets just a smidge straighter. Now that’s the reaction I want all night.

I present him with a bottle of wine, and he thanks me with a hug. It’s a little awkward, but I’m hoping in time Zach warms up to me. I know he was originally jealous of me, and the fact that I was practically humping Craig’s leg on the dance floor when we met didn’t help. But I had an ulterior motive that day, which was to encourage Craig to get the fuck over himself and see how much he liked Zach. It worked too, but alas, I’m still the bad person.

Parker and Ben have arrived already, but Zach maneuvers us away from them and toward two women lingering in the kitchen doorway. I’ve only just been introduced to his and Craig’s friends Victoria and Mrs. Hill when Ben approaches.

“Hey,” Ben says, and I stiffen. “I was hoping we could talk privately for just a second?”

I’m not sure I want that, but he looks so nervous twisting his hands together that I decide to put him out of his misery. Hopefully it will diffuse whatever tension is between us and let the rest of the dinner pass smoothly. I extend a hand, indicating for him to proceed, and follow him into a long hallway on the opposite side of the house from the kitchen.

“I owe you an apology,” he says, his hands still clasped together. “I wasn’t in the best place, Zach moving out and holiday shit, and I ruined our date. I don’t really even remember anything after the martini bar, which is utterly humiliating. I’m so sorry. I’m not usually like that on dates, I promise.”

“Thanks. Although I hope you aren’t trying to ask me out again, because–”

“Oh god, no,” Ben says with wide eyes, and I laugh freely. “I remember enough about that night to know that’s not a good idea.”

“Thank fuck. I was worried you were going to want to try again.”

“I think friends is good. Or friends of friends. Distant acquaintances, even,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye, and the kind of charm that made me initially think I could fall for him. But no. Definitely not.

I place my hand across my chest in mock offense. “I was not that bad. You, on the other hand…”

“Hey, I already said I was having a rough time,” he says and nods in the direction of the others to see if I’m ready to head back. I nod and we continue our chat as we cross into the living area.

“Yes, and it showed. I mean, maybe some people are hot for teacher, but not when teacher’s on a bender.”

Ben snickers, and Zach shoots us an inquiring look. The oven timer goes off before he has a chance to ask, and Craig directs us all to the dinner table. In the time since Ben pulled me aside, the final guest, a red-headed guy I don’t recognize, has arrived.

The table has name cards, probably with the intent of keeping Ben and me as far away from each other as possible, although that’s no longer necessary. Bonus – it allows me to discover the red-head’s name without asking. It’s Kieran. The unfortunate result, however, is that I’m seated next to Parker. Not ideal when I’m trying not to notice how gorgeous he looks all dressed up. Track pants might be ideal for his glutes, but the dress shirt and slacks make every inch devastatingly debonair. Plus, the man radiates heat and it keeps making me shiver.

“Is everything okay?” Parker keeps his voice low enough that only I can hear. He doesn’t even look my way so that there’s no attention on us, merely shifting so his body is closer. Jesus, the man is warm inside and out, and I have to keep reminding myself not to get attached.

I give a quick bob of my head, but can’t keep a smile from spreading across my face. I’ve had plenty of guys use me as their experiment. It’s practically the only way I got laid in high school. But none of them ever showed the care and concern that this man has. Hell, half the guys I’ve dated haven’t.

Zach’s arms are loaded with an enormous tray of lasagna, which joins a salad bowl and tray of rolls on the table. Craig beams at him, and the lead weight in my stomach returns. Part of that is probably also the fact that Parker has turned to Mrs. Hill sitting on his other side. It isn’t right, but I wish I could be the only one to occupy his attention tonight.

Mrs. Hill asks for an extra roll, but Zach says that she has to get Parker’s permission. Ben snorts so loud the entire table turns to look.

“I’m trying so hard to be good right now,” Ben says. “None of you appreciate how difficult that is.”

“You get a gold star, Ben,” Craig says from his spot at the end of the table near me.

“Oh, I already have a gold star,” Ben says with a wink at Craig, and half the table groans.

Kieran shoots Craig a confused look, and Craig tells him, “I’ll explain later, young padawan.”

“The dinner is delicious, Zach,” Mrs. Hill says after a bite of the lasagna.

“Hey, I helped,” Craig whines.

“Of course you did, dear,” Mrs. Hill says, and Victoria coughs in a vain attempt to hide her laugh.

“Hush, you,” Craig says, but it’s a losing battle. A different half of the table is out of the joke this time, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone starts laughing when Craig cries, “All of you suck! Don’t say it.” He points to Ben, who pretends to zip his lips.

The merriment of the table does lift my spirits, but it’s not enough. Even when Victoria starts talking to me about her art, my attention is laser focused on the man to my right. If only I could get his attention too, somehow.