The next morning, I get an idea.

I call my dad. He takes a while to pick up, as he always does. He likes to leave his phone in other rooms of his house for some reason. Usually I have to call him two or three times before he succeeds in finding the thing.

"Hello?" he asks.

"Hey, dad. I had a question for you," I say, lounging back on the sofa.

"I have questions for you, too," he replies smartly. "How are you doing? Healing well? Have you noticed any more memory issues?"

"Nope, I'm totally good. I'm resting up, doing my homework. The headache's gone, too," I say. "But I've been thinking about something you said."

"Uh-oh."

"No, it's a good thing," I laugh. "Remember Evan? The musician?"

He pauses. "Yes, I remember."

"Well... I saw him a few more times after you left. Your... approval of him kind of made me realize that you're right. I could do worse. We've been talking and... I think we're dating now."

"Ooh, bring him down for Christmas Break. I'd love to get to know him better," my dad says immediately.

I raise my eyebrows in spite of myself. "... That's actually exactly what I was going to ask. You know Byrd Flooring?"

"Yeah?" he says, confused by what he can only interpret as a sudden change of subject.

"His dad owns it. He's from Glide. I figured it'd be nice for him to... take a walk down memory lane," I say. I avoid mentioning that only certain spots along Evan's memory lane are worth revisiting.

"That sounds great, Audrey. Yeah, bring him down. You know, if he can get out of classes, you guys can just come down this week. I'll have to work, but you know you're always welcome back home."

My heart warms at the idea of snuggling up to Evan on a couch in my childhood home. "I'll ask him. I'll tell you what he says. Thanks, dad. I love you."

"I love you, too. Does he have a car or will I need to come pick you both up?"

"No car. He's a TriMet rat like me," I say.

"Okay. That's fine. Just keep me posted."

"I will."

"I love you, Audrey."

"I love you, too, dad," I say, smiling as the call ends.

One day I'll be honest with my dad about Evan, but today is not that day.

I text the man himself. Good morning. Can I buy you breakfast?

Evan texts back immediately. I will pay for my own. When and where?

I smile, rolling my eyes as I reply. Sugar's Diner. I'll be there in ten minutes.

His reply comes quickly. See you there :)

I bundle up for the weather and start the walk down to the diner. It's a tiny, cozy place with the same "good old days" 1950s theme that a lot of diners have. I like the food, even though I'm deeply annoyed by the glorification of that era. The fifties were hell for everyone who wasn't a straight white man. But the owner is a Black woman named Patricia who dotes on me and just about every other nearly broke college student who frequents her shop. I applaud her for profiting off of the phantom nostalgia people have for poodle skirts and shared milkshakes while ignoring the activists being brutalized beside them.

Evan stands in front of the diner. His clothes are still dark as ever, but his grin lights up the block. He greets me with a kiss on the cheek and holds the door open for me.

"Ready to step back in time to an era when I would have been chemically castrated and you would have been denied service?" he asks with a sweet smile.

I grin. "I was just thinking about that. To hell with the fifties."

He nods. "To hell with the fifties. This place has great food, though."

"It does," I say. The hostess smiles at us and leads us to a booth. We both order coffee with a dish of creamer cups and she leaves us with ancient, plastic-sleeved menus.

"I had something I wanted to ask you," Evan says before I can begin to pitch my idea to him. "Listen... I don't have my social security card. Or my birth certificate. My dad kept them when I moved out. And it's making it hard as hell to get a place of my own. I was wondering... the next time you go down to visit your dad, could you maybe..." He trails off, looking uncomfortable with himself. "... maybe drop by? Try and get that stuff back for me?"

I grin. "Well, I just asked my dad if you could come down with me for my winter break visit. We can go together."

Evan smiles politely, but his eyes are frozen in fear. I mentally walk back the steps I just took in the conversation and find the problem. "But I could go by myself to get your stuff. Absolutely. It's actually very illegal for him to keep it from you. You could call the police, you know."

Evan sighs. "Fifties or not, me and police don't mix well together."

He's telling the truth. A skinny, tattooed, homeless man would definitely earn increased suspicion in the eyes of the law. I saw it myself at the Mission when Lenny attacked me. I shudder when I think of the tiny town of Glide, and how homophobic sentiments could make things much worse for him down there.

"I'll get it," I assure him. "I'll walk right up, say I'm with the... the ACLU. I'll grab the stuff and get out of there."

He smiles, soothed by the idea that he won't have to be around his father. Anger grows in me at the whole situation. "You won't even have to lie, I think. He's not the brightest. If you say you're a social worker who has taken on my case he wouldn't question it." He sets down his menu. "Audrey, I... I'm so touched that you'd invite me down there. Your dad is fine with it?"

I give him a guilty shrug. "My dad still thinks you're a music major, but yeah. I just... I couldn't tell him the truth after what happened with Lenny."

Evan nods, but I can tell this disturbs him. I reach across the table to hold his hand.

"Hey. He doesn't know you like I know you," I say soothingly. "Once he realizes how good of a person you are, I'll tell him. He won't think any less of you after he gets to know you."

Evan nods again. "Thanks, Audrey."

I think for a moment. "That's why you busk, then? To get your own place?" I cock my head. "I mean, maybe the past few days have just been particularly lucrative, but how do you not have enough for a place yet?"

"No one will rent to me because I don't have a real job," he says. Mercifully, his moment of weakness passes and it's replaced with the same tired frustration I often feel when I think of the system. "And I can't get a real job without my social security card. I can't get into government housing without my birth certificate. I've been working my ass off busking because I found a place that would rent to me if I paid six months up front."

I frown. "I don't think that's legal."

He shrugs exasperatedly. "What choice do I have?"

I nod. "You're right. Well, we can fix that. A lot of it, anyway. Get you your documents back.

Evan takes a breath and looks away, his eyes tracing the shape of the empty table across the aisle from us. "Sorry I got... mad."

"Don't be sorry. I'm mad, too. I'm mad for you. It's okay to be angry," I reassure him.

"Yeah, but like... you shouldn't have to deal with that," he says slowly.

I squeeze his fingers. "Evan. I've signed up for the whole package, alright? Anger and all." His eyes meet mine and I smile sweetly. "I'm not running away that easily."

He studies me. "What do you run away from?"

I consider this carefully. "Violence. And men who think that anger is sexy."

Evan sighs dramatically. "Wish you could go back in time and impart that wisdom to teenage me."

I laugh. "Hey, can I ask you... something that I'm sure you get tired of being asked?"

Evan cocks his head, a smile lacing his mouth. "Uh... sure?"

"What's your type of guy?" I ask. "I mean, I'm sure you have to deal with lots of idiots asking you the "token bisexual" questions but... I'm curious."

His beautiful smile refreshes. "I've actually never had anyone ask me that. And it's... oh, you're going to hate this..."

I hold up my hands, waiting.

"Country boys," he admits, putting his face in his hands. Both of us burst out laughing. His pale face flushes pink between his fingers.

"Country boys? Like the kind back home? Camo jackets? Beat-up trucks? Wranglers and muddy boots and a lip full of Skoal?" I ask, unable to believe this.

"Yup. I like to think I'm... you know, a pretty sensible person, but it all went straight out the window for men in cowboy boots," he laughs, embarrassed. Then he catches himself. "Before I met you, I mean."

I wave my hand. "I'm not one of those idiots who thinks bi people cheat all the time. Don't worry. And if you need me to, I'll put on a pair of boots," I tease. "I'll pass on the Skoal, though."

He sighs longingly. "You'd look great in a pair of boots. Flannel coat, jeans all muddy..."

"Oh, man, if you hadn't told me you were from Glide I would've picked it up right there," I say, shaking my head as I laugh. "But I'm... I think I'm kind of the same way. I don't like... polished guys, you know? Someone straight out of a magazine? Like... a brand-new car fresh off the lot. Put some mileage on it, right?"

"Did you just compare men to cars?" he squeaks, bursting into laughter again. I join his mirth as I realize my stupid analogy.

"I meant... I don't want a Ken doll. I want a human being," I finally manage to say. "You're more than a car to me, Evan."

"No, it's fine. Women have been compared to cars since cars were invented. I'm here for the role reversal," Evan decides, still giggling.

Then the waitress comes to take our orders. I get waffles, eggs and bacon. Evan gets the French toast.

"What kind of car am I?" Evan asks once the waitress is out of earshot.

We both start laughing so hard we have to clap our hands over our mouths for fear of getting kicked out of this place.

We make conversation about the rental market around here while we eat, and it isn't until my last bite is gone that I realize something.

This is our third date.

The nightclub, the "Netflix and chill" after the flooring, and this breakfast date. There's a part of me that has been worrying that I'm moving "too quickly", falling for Evan too fast. But if I use the age-old social method hailed in sitcoms, we're right on track.

Evan has established clear boundaries for my comfort and abides by them completely. He has well and truly earned my trust.

I'm an adult. He's an adult. I have my own apartment with a door that locks and no one to disturb us.

The thought excites me to my core.

"Want to head back to my place?" I ask. "Watch a movie or something?"

I think he wants me as much as I want him, but I would sooner lose a limb than make this beautiful boy feel cornered.

He smiles. "I'd love to."

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