“Seriously, though,” Arya said. “You know there’s nothing wrong with hooking up.”
“Of course I do.” Farzan had done plenty of that in his twenties. But everyone in his life was settling down, and if he was honest, he wanted that for himself too. He wanted someone to come home to. Someone to complain about his day with, share a bottle of wine. Someone he’d get to know well enough that fucking each other’s brains out would be a matter of earned skill and deep familiarity rather than luck of the draw and a bit of a banana curve. “But I’m tired of it. The games you have to play, apps, the coded language. It’s exhausting. And I don’t know, with David I really thought…”
But Farzan was too embarrassed to admit it.
Ramin nodded sagely, but Arya prodded. “Thought what?”
“I don’t know. It felt real, you know? We had chemistry. The sex was amazing, but the kissing was even better, and the cuddling? Sitting together, watching a movie, laughing at the same parts? It felt right. It felt so right.” Farzan reached for his wine. “But it was just me I guess. He didn’t feel it. Or if he did feel it, it wasn’t enough. He’s not looking for anything serious.”
“Hey.” Arya reached across the table and took his hand, voice low. “You felt what you felt. And it’s his loss, okay? Not yours. You’re one of my favorite people.”
“Thanks. You too.”
“And I support you in your misbegotten quest for long-term dick.”
Ramin rolled his eyes. Farzan snorted.
“Anyway. Whatever. Enough about me.” Farzan turned to Ramin. “How was your anniversary dinner?”
“More important, how was the after-dinner?” Arya asked, waggling his eyebrows.
Ramin shook his head and blushed a deep salmon pink. With his lighter skin, every blush was super obvious. “Everything was really nice.We walked around the Plaza afterward, and I don’t know, it felt cozy.” He bit his lip. “Do you think a year is too early to start thinking about moving in together?”
Arya gaped. “Seriously?”
Ramin blushed harder. “Maybe.”
Truth be told, Farzan was only lukewarm on Todd. He was nice enough, but Ramin was the best person Farzan knew, and so it was hard for anyone to measure up. Todd was funny, handsome, and sweet, but also—and Farzan would never say this to Ramin—he came across a little milquetoast.
Every time Farzan saw him, he only wanted to talk about work and how much money the nonprofit he worked for had raised in their latest campaign, or the gym and the latest personal record he’d hit, all while Ramin pasted on a smile and pretended he liked hearing about it. Farzan couldn’t even muster the will to feign interest anymore; he always tuned out or went to refill his wine.
And Todd had the whitest taste in music. Farzan’s own tastes were pretty eclectic, but still, one could only listen to Taylor Swift so many times before wanting something a little different.
Worst of all, he had an Android, which turned the group chat (well, the one with him in it) green.
Still, Ramin liked him. A lot. And Farzan wanted Ramin to be happy, more than anything. Life had dealt Ramin enough blows; he deserved to be lucky in love.
Luckier than Farzan, anyway.
“If you feel good about it then go for it,” Farzan finally said.
Ramin nodded and looked down, pressing his left thumb into the small tattoo he had on the underside of his right wrist. His mom’s name—Nasrin—in Persian script. He had one for his dad, Sina, on the left.
“Hey, speaking of Todd,” Arya said, nudging Ramin in the side. “Is he going to be all right for the game?”
“He says so.” Ramin shrugged. “You know how he is.”
Farzan fought the urge to roll his eyes. Todd had pulled his groin doing Bulgarian split squats, trying to “improve his dumpy,” as he put it.
Arya reached for more bread. “That I do.”
Arya was the one who’d introduced Todd and Ramin. Arya and Todd played together on a queer kickball team, part of Kansas City’s growing community of grown-ass adults running a weekend kickball league. Arya had roped Farzan into joining the team as well, but Ramin had wisely opted out. Still, he came to cheer them on most games, and when Arya had noticed Ramin and Todd looking at each other, he’d taken matters into his own hands and introduced them, and they’d hit it off. Ramin had been smiles all year long.
Now here they were. Ramin was thinking about moving in with Todd. Their team, the Lions, was in the league playoffs. Arya was still enjoying a revolving door of dick.
And Farzan was the same: underemployed and single again.
Before he could wallow anymore, though, the door to Shiraz Bistro swung open, letting out an obnoxious electronic chime and letting in a brisk September breeze. Farzan glanced over his shoulder and did a double take.
