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expanded.”
    “You should come back some other time and see the pros.”
    “I’d like that.” James averted his eyes. He looked happy but a bit bashful too. “I don’t suppose you know anywhere around here that serves mint tea?” Gabe asked.
    “Mint tea? Um…. There are some Moroccan places around here, but I’m not sure if they’re open at this hour. Why?”
    “Had a sudden craving.” Gabe checked the time. The surrounding storefronts were mostly dark and the city was slowing down. “It is late, though.”
    “Yeah, I have to catch my bus.”
    “I can give you a lift.”
    “You don’t have to.”
    “I’d be a very crappy not-date if I didn’t. Just point the way.”
     
     
    J AMES DIRECTED them down from the first rolling hills of Berkeley into the flatlands of Albany and across San Pablo Avenue until they got to a stand of apartments. They weren’t exactly project housing, but not the kind of place someone would live if they had an option for better.
    “Here’s me.”
    “You know, I had a nice time tonight.”
    “Me too.”
    The silence stretched. Gabe was hoping for an invite up for coffee. He’d spent the night taking a closer look at James. He had a nice smile that caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle in a particularly sweet way. His hair was a little shaggy but in an attractive instead of unkempt way. A nice body. And there was something pleasant about him that gave Gabe a desire to prolong the evening. Frank’s definition of “nice” floated through his head.
    “I better get going. Dylan’s going to send out the dogs if I’m out too late.”
    Gabe swallowed his disappointment, though he had been the one protesting all afternoon it wasn’t a date. “Yeah, I’ve got a long drive back. Can I get your number, though? Maybe we can do this again sometime.”
    “I thought you had my number?”
    “I’ve got the number of a guy who slurps over the phone and is bad at taking messages.” James smiled, his eyes crinkling. He pulled a pen from a pocket and wrote a number on the back of the program from the evening. “Old-school. I like it.”
    “Old-school is sort of me all over.” James hopped out of the car. “Thank you for the lift. I’ll talk to you later?”
    “Absolutely.”
    Gabe waited until James was past the security gate of his building. It wasn’t that it seemed to be a particularly bad neighborhood, just not exactly a great one.
     
     
    “I’ M HOME ,” James called as he dumped his keys in the bowl by the door.
    “With company?” Dylan shouted from his room, sounding a little too eager.
    “No.” James leaned against the doorframe in Dylan’s room. A pile of socks kicked into one corner reminded him he needed to get more laundry powder.
    “How’d it go?”
    “It was nice. A lot of good acts.”
    Dylan rolled his eyes. “I mean the date.”
    “It wasn’t a date. It was a not-date. Like an un-birthday.”
    And it was far nicer than most of the dates I’ve been on , James thought.
    “So how did the not-date go?”
    “It was nice to be out with an adult.”
    “Nice enough that you might go out on a not-date again?”
    “I have no idea, but he has my number.” James wasn’t going to admit to the pleasant feeling that had swelled when Gabe asked for his number.
    “I suppose it’s a start, but next time I’m going to pick what you wear, because that sweater is not going to get you any play.”
    “Dylan! And I’ll have you know you gave me this sweater.”
    “When I was eleven, and Grandma helped me pick it out. If you want to snag a real boyfriend, you’re going to have to step things up a notch.”
     
     
    G ABE WAS humming some half-remembered tune in half-remembered Spanish as he sorted through the overnight e-mails. Despite the late night and long drive back, he’d made it a point to get into the office early. He had done a lot of thinking on the drive home. Not much of it formed into anything conclusive, but he did realize, with no little