The time we spent consoling Alice at the wedding has cemented the bond between the three of us.

We hang out a lot, take a weekend trip to Baja, two high, heady days that taste of sunshine, sea salt and lime. We get drunk on the beach and crash in one single bed in a scary Mexican hotel room, a drunken, sexless mass of friendship, with no tension. Alice’s presence is somehow a buffer that allows Shane and I to exist as friends in an uncomplicated way, and in that place, we are close friends, even sometimes affectionate.

But we still ***** frequently, and the duality of the relationship has, for me, become taxing. I’ve compartmentalized our ***** and our friendship to a degree that may seem natural to her, but which is foreign to me. Her wham-bam ways continue to annoy me, and I stuff those feelings back, because I know that going there is dangerous. Im good at that; I do it well.

I go out with Melanie from the Med-Surg unit a few times. She still has it bad for her ex, so after a few dates she ends it and we revert to being friends.

Shane and I spend long nights at Milk girl-watching. Sometimes Jenny or Al will join us but four or five nights a week, its just me and Shane. I prefer my women slightly butch. She is less discerning, and prefers them to have a pulse and a *****. We endlessly discuss who we would and wouldnt *****. And we both would probably both ***** all of them, being the ***** we are. But then there is Stefanie.

Stefanie struts into Milk in red leather and a Bettie Page haircut. Her walk is commanding but her eyes are wide like those of a scared child. The combination is irresistible. Neither Shane or I say a word, probably because were both staring at this girl with her long jet hair and pale skin.

I call dibs on that, I say.

No way.

Oh, yes, way. The girl comes toward the bar. Come to mama.

Youre a *****, Dar. Shane gives me that grin that makes me forget all about Stephanie.

Thats why you love me, Pookie.