"I don't . . .." There it was again. That bitter reminder of just how little people I could turn to, despite all the names popping up on my phone. "Thanks, but I'm not gay. I'm not confused. I don't need your help. I was drunk. End of fucking story."

He nodded as though he had been expecting that. "The offer is there either way. It doesn't expire."

"Thanks." The word felt awkward in my mouth. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

There were so many questions on my mind. Choosing just one, or which one I wanted to ask first, turned out to be a struggle. Did I...