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She was also one of the first women I ever had feelings for. Feelings I’d hash out with Rosalie week after week, oscillating between It’s just admiration and She’s like an aunt to me to She’s so beautiful and I keep dreaming about having sex with her. Our relationship ended the way I’m sure most volunteers end relationships with people at work—she wrote me a recommendation for Oxford, hugged me hard when I got in, and we added each other on the now “Val Beverly” friends-and-family-only Facebook account I have that I created when I graduated high school. She stayed through my high-school-friend purge and still comments on big life events—my first movie role, the Oscar, coming out—with reasonable support.

It’s got me smiling now, the coincidence that my first crush was a USC professor and now I’ve finally locked lips with one. It’s like I’ve always had a type I was meant to go back to. Sure, I had fleeting crushes on Oxford professors, and obviously I dated Emily. But I’ve been exclusively pursuing fellow actresses and people who work in Hollywood for so damn long. Luna was a major departure from the actresses I dated before her, but even she spoke my language.

At the same time, though, I don’t think my feelings have to do with what Maeve is. It’s just—fuck, it’s Maeve. Maeve Arko, this hugely successful, ridiculously smart, incredibly kind human being who kissed me like that. Wanted me like that.

And it must be written all over my damn face because Charlie is grinning like a fool. Despite getting stuck in traffic, I’m still basically on time for our monthly hang with Mason at Nobu. The general dining area ambiance here is already amazing, with wine cellar lighting, but the three of us have been dropping money for their private room for a while now. Charlie’s the first one here, hair a little tousled, the red light spilling behind him, and—when I get up close—I can see it matches red lines in his eyes from what I can only assume was a joint break outside.

“You’re late,” he says.

I grab a seat across from him, taking a gulp from the water glasses already on the table. “Mason isn’t even here yet.”

Charlie grins again. “Why are you late?”

God, I haven’t felt this good in so long. I’m addicted after the first hit. “Maeve and I kissed.”

“Holy shit!” He covers his nose and mouth with his hands. “Holy— How did you pull that one off?”

I explain the situation as briefly as I can, knowing I’ll have to repeat the story for Mason when she comes, and for Luna, Romy, and Wyatt after that. Mason is just late, but the youngens all have late shifts.

He leans forward when I finish. “Well, did you fuck?”

I shake my head. “We got to unzipping, but Ty showed up.”

We’ve had conversations like this before. Despite having absolutely zero frame of reference for the other’s sexual experiences, we used to dish out dirty details. I forgot how much I loved sharing with Charlie.

“Are you gonna see her again?” he asks. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I mean, obviously you have to see her again for class. But, is this like a one-time thing, or should I expect more updates?”

Somehow, in the month of lusting after Maeve, the couple of weeks of liking her, all I’ve thought about is the what if. Now that the thing I thought could never happen has, I don’t even know what comes next. Do I want to kiss her again? Of course. There’s a hell of a lot more I want to do with her. But the reason I was so hesitant to pursue Maeve is still looming over us. We’re coworkers. She’s supporting my academic ambitions, but any recommendation from her would be discounted if we’re romantically involved.

I sit up and adjust my belt, straighten out a loop that I missed when I sloppily put it back on. “I dunno, man. I have to think—”

Right on time, Mason launches her way through the door, sliding into a seat between Charlie and me. She’s in shorts and a patterned shirt, one of her two outfits that isn’t a suit. “Don’t film in Agoura Hills, boys,” she says. “I already ordered an extra soju to pour directly into my eyes to combat the bullshit of today.”

“But you already ordered the bottle of Junmai Daiginjo—?” I say, glancing at the menu.

“Of course I did,” Mason replies, just as Charlie throws an arm around me and says, “Guess who doesn’t need to pour soju in their eyes?”

Mason looks up from her menu, a smile playing on her lips. “Oh, and why’s that?”

“This one got some action—” Charlie says.

“We kissed,” I say quickly.

“With her co-teacher!”

Mason takes about a second to process. “The hot one?” She breaks into a joyous bark of laugher. “Why are you so bad at professional boundaries?”

I open my mouth to protest, but considering we now have Maeve, Luna, and Phoebe…“We don’t have to talk about it. I still need her help at work, so it won’t happen again.”

Mason picks up a menu and flips through it. “Well, maybe you two can do an end-of-the-year, end-of-collab dinner and start dating after that.”

I cringe; right, Mason doesn’t know about my plan to leave Hollywood. I steal a glance at Charlie, who’s pleasantly high and not picking up on my discomfort. I start looking at the menu. “Luna said she’d drop by sometime around nine, so we should order without her.”

We’ll do as we usually do and order a $250 bottle of sake we say is our monthly treat. I’m reminded yet again that as much as I want to be perceived as normal, I’m nowhere close.

I wonder if Maeve’s thinking that at home right now, the taste of my lips still on hers.

“Oh!” Mason says, interrupting my daydream. “For you.” She drops a graphic novel marked Advanced Reader Copy over my menu—Goodbye, Richard! Vol. 3.