"K." I knew how to throw a log on a fire; I figured I could handle the stove for a while.
Daniel was gone for nearly an hour, but when he got back he had take-out stuff from a pub. He also had a six-pack of beer, and I wondered if he got his ID from the same place as Alden.
As we ate, I tried to get a sense of whether there was any change in our conversation, any tension that might have come from my revelation earlier. Didn’t seem like it. We chatted, we laughed, he called me Nota Bene once or twice, and the way that made me feel caused me to bring Alden’s warning to mind: avoid the emotional scars I’d earn if I fell for a straight guy.
After dinner was cleaned up, Daniel pulled a bottle out of a duffle bag he’d brought.
"I had only one beer," he said, "and you did, too. Let’s put our
