I don’t go to Milk the next night. Instead I go to an industrial-metal-thrash club across town and dance out my frustrations. Of course I don’t see anyone I know.

My analytical mind has processed, ordered and numbered my reasons for being pissed at Shane. One, I’m not comfortable with how much I want her. My problem, not hers. My fault, not hers. Unfortunately numbers two and three are predicated upon number one. Two, she is always the one limiting our interactions, never me. Three, she put her hands all over me without asking, in public, but something as simple as letting me take control on occasion is taboo to her.

By Monday night I’ve worked through it and set it aside. I’m leaving the hospital, chatting with a cute redhead from the Med-Surg unit who is pinging my gaydar. Shane is sitting outside on the fountain, having a smoke.

“Hi,” I say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Just saying hey.”

“I’m gonna go,” Melanie, the redhead says. “Maybe I’ll see you before shift tomorrow?”

“Yeah. That would be cool. Count on it.” I say. I’m fully aware that I would never commit to this if Shane weren’t standing there, looking back and forth between Melanie and I. I’ve stooped to the lamest point of manipulation there is and I totally hate myself for it. And I’d totally do it over again.

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye,” I call, watching her disappear into the night. Girl has a fine ***** that you could bounce a quarter off of.

“She’s cute.” Shane says.

“Seriously.” I turn my gaze to Shane. Her being here, waiting for me, makes me feel sort of soft inside. I’m glad I’m not pissed anymore. “So, what are you doing here?” I say happily.

“Just wanna say hey. Trying to quit smoking.” She flicks her butt into the sandy container, and grins. “It’s not working.”

“Good for you. What are you up to?”

“Not much. Thinking about heading over to Radar.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I keep forgetting Radar’s on Tuesdays.”

“Come with.”

“Okay. I need to go home first though.”

“Cool.”

“And first round’s on you. Oh, and we can plot against the Borg.”

“Darah.” She gives me that chastising schoolmarm look she gets when someone’s loyalty to their friend is in question.