At six-forty-two on Friday, Calvin, Cookie, and Roger drove twenty minutes to Genevieve's two-bedroom house in a suburb six blocks from the University of San Kolbe.

     Calvin's social anxiety strapped itself to his back. The bottle of wine in his hands became as heavy as his stomach. He thought about telling Roger to turn the car around.

     Roger held Cookie's hand as he drove. "You should have seen him, baby. 'I don't know, Genevieve. I wasn't invited.'"

     Calvin scuffed at Roger's nasal, mimicking tone, savoring the lost possibility of not going to this party. He'd be at home reading or writing or reorganizing his closet. Anything but betraying his brother by spending time with the people who disliked him.

     Roger parked the car on the curb, half a block from Genevieve's house. Hers was the only one without toys and fancy sprinklers in the front yard.

     Every step towards her front door increased Calvin's nerves. Keep to yourself in there.

     Roger rang the doorbell, summoning Genevieve to the door.

     She wore a form-fitting dress, high heels, hoop earrings, and devil-red lipstick. "You made it."

     Calvin's lips parted open. Woah.

     Roger introduced Cookie and the three of them made casual chatter in the front porch, while Calvin stood a few feet away, holding his wine.

     The envy Calvin felt towards anyone more outgoing than him was in full force. We wanted to be part of their world, if only socializing didn't drain him.

     Genevieve pushed the couple inside, leaving only her and Calvin on the porch. She crossed her arms and studied him with a sympathetic grin.

     He was a victim of her freezing abilities once more. Damn, how does she do that?

     She shook her head in playful pity, reached for his hand, and pulled him towards her. "So serious."

     Her touch raised Calvin's body temperature. He knew that wasn't normal, but he'd search for a logical explanation later.

     Once they were inside, she closed the door and stood behind him with her hands pressed against his back.

     Calvin's skin grew goosebumps. He felt her small hands travel up to his shirt collar. He didn't know what she was doing. Why couldn't he stop her?

     "I'll hang your coat in the closet," she said.

     Of course. My coat. Calvin maneuvered his arms out of his coat as Genevieve peeled it from his body, switched the wine bottle between his hands as she did.

     Once his coat was in the closet, Genevieve took the bottle off his hands. She nodded as she read the label. "Impressive. Here I was thinking you'd bring wine only good for cooking."

     He wasn't impressed by her bravado. To him, she was just another teacher at Julian who hated Marlo.

     She walked to the kitchen, her eyes glued to the wine label. "Head to the living room. I'll catch up."

     Calvin stood alone in the hallway, wondering what kind of party host abandoned her guests upon arrival. He supposed it didn't matter. He didn't want to be around her anyway.

     He slid his hands in his pockets and stepped into the living room. At least fifteen people sat and stood around the fondue and the mini bar. Some he recognized as Julians. Others didn't strike him as teacher-material. He couldn't find Roger or Cookie in the crowd.

     Calvin expected Genevieve's living space to be littered with useless knick knacks, but it was tastefully decorated and clean. The decor was minimalistic, much like his own bedroom.

     After what felt like an hour of invisibility, Calvin found refuge in the empty backyard. The night was cold, but he didn't want to go back inside for his coat. He needed space away from all those strangers.

     He paced back and forth in the yard, looking up at the stars. Others would have found it romantic, but all Calvin thought about was how many stars were nothing more than the leftover light they reflected.

     He thought about Cookie and how she found his lack of romance a drag. A sting of regret made its way to his chest, regret at having failed to make her happy, having failed to make himself happy with her. He closed his eyes and shooed the bitter thought away. She wasn't his any longer.

     Calvin sensed a presence next to him. He was prepared to inform the stranger than he was feeling okay.

     Genevieve stood before him, wearing a black coat and holding a glass of white wine in one hand. "A penny for your thoughts?"

     Calvin's eyes bulged open.

     She sipped her wine. "Why are you out here all by yourself?"

     The dim moonlight made it easy to look into her eyes without feeling their intimidation. "I just needed a little air."

     "Did you not want to come?"

     "No. I mean, no I didn't not want to come. I wanted to come. I'm just..."

     "A little shy?" she said inside a giggle.

     Calvin snorted. "Shy? No, not shy."

     He felt the weight of their silence on his shoulders, but she seemed to take it just fine, like she savored it as much as conversation.

     "You know," said Genevieve "you were more than welcomed to bring your gal here."

     "Gal?"

     Her face turned serious. "You are involved with someone, aren't you?"

     Calvin shifted his weight to one foot. Her interrogation wasn't unwelcome, but it didn't make him comfortable. "No."

     Her eyes moved from his belt buckle to his forehead. "I find that hard to believe. How old are you?"

     The question was so unexpected, he looked around for others, thinking this was a joke. "Twenty-five."

     She took another sip of wine. "Well, you're the oldest twenty-five-year-old I know."

     Calvin wasn't sure why her words offended him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

     "You ought to be inside with the rest of us. Instead, you're outside like a stick in the mud."

     He wrinkled his forehead, waiting for Genevieve to acknowledge her mistake and apologize.

     Instead, she drained the last of the wine from her glass. "Ask me."

     "Ask you what?"

     "Ask me how old I am. I know you're curious."

     He wasn't curious and he couldn't ask her, even with her permission. Did her age really matter when she looked that good?

     "I'm thirty-eight."

     The number didn't sound right. "Really?"

     She nodded.

     Calvin struggled to word a compliment, one that would change the subject. "Well, you... you have a beautiful home."

     "Thanks. I got it after the divorce."

     He perked up. Did she say 'divorce'?

     She burst into laughter. "I'm just putting you on."

     Her laugh ruled his muscles to tighten, another thing that wasn't normal and required further investigation. "So, you were never married?"

     "No, and I don't plan to. Marriage isn't for me. Have you been married before?"

     Calvin shook his head. "But I'm looking for her. I mean, aren't you looking for him, or..."

     Abort, Leblanc. Abort.

     "Or what? Or her?"

     Calvin wasn't sure where to hide his face.

     "You don't really believe those lesbian rumors, do you?"

     Calvin stuttered as he tried to explain himself. Nothing meaningful left his mouth.

     "I can't say I blame you for believing it, but no. I'm just single and happy."

     She went back to her staring fest.

     Calvin wasn't cold any longer.

     "Tell me, what are you looking for in a gal?"

     Was she changing the subject already? It's best to play along. "A girl? Let's see. She must be humble, respectful, understanding, and a good cook."

     Genevieve twisted her lip. "Any luck finding a girl like that?"

     "Not lately, but I'll find her."

     "In such a hurry to marry. Where's the fun in that?"

     "I'm not looking for fun. I'm looking to start a family."

     She laughed into the cold, night air, shaking her head in a patronizing way.

     Calvin didn't bother waiting for an apology this time. "So, you're not a lesbian, but you have no interest in men?"

     "I have no interest in romance."

     "Why not?"

     She shrugged. "I wasn't built for that."

     Calvin pulled his face back. "Everyone is built for romance. It's biology."

     "Biology and romance are different."

     Calvin felt an urge to compete. "Okay, so this lifestyle of yours is on what end of your spectrum, because it's not biology or romance."

     She opened her mouth to speak when a loud voice coming from inside the house interrupted them.

     "Viv, you out here?"

     He winced at the sound of her nickname. Her full name was so much better.

     "I'll be right in," she called back.

     She looked at Calvin. "Come back inside. Your gloominess is ruining my party."

     What nerve. How could someone be this odd and get away with it? And where did she get off calling him a stick in the mud? 

     He pressed his lips together, vowing loyalty to Marlo as long as he was at Julian.