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doors were starting to close when he heard his name. Sean was running for the elevator full tilt, and Zach put his arm against the doors and let him in.
    They closed behind Sean who laughed slightly and moved to the back of the elevator to lean against the mirror with Zach. He was wearing jeans and a dress shirt in black and red. It looked horrible with his complexion, and Zach thought that Sean should get his friend Wendy to help him with his clothes.
    “You couldn’t make it,” Sean said, sounding breathless and disappointed.
    “I’m overdressed anyway,” Zach pointed out.
    “It was such a good gesture.” Sean pouted. “You couldn’t blow off one fundraiser?”
    “Not this one,” Zach said, turning his head sideways and smiling at Sean from under his lashes. “It’s the one that might get me evicted.”
    “I’d hate for you to get evicted,” Sean said, but he was looking at Zach, his blue eyes wide and hopeful, and his voice lacked conviction. “I’d never see you again.”
    “You know, there’s these things called cell—”
    Ding!
    Neither of them moved.
    “You keep wearing tuxedos and going places without me,” Sean complained, and now he sounded breathless for a whole other reason.
    “I hate tuxedos.” They were standing so close. Sean must have downed a beer or two, but his breath wasn’t unpleasant—just hoppy. He smelled a little sweaty so he’d probably been dancing—Zach would bet Sean was an atrocious dancer, because he moved like he was made of elbows, but Zach still wanted to see it happen.
    “Then change into jeans and come to my party,” Sean begged plaintively.
    This time Zach leaned into the kiss, and their lips met softly for a minute. He pulled away. “Someday,” he said softly, “I’m going to take you to one of these. I’ll buy you a tuxedo, and pick out your tie. I’ll escort you in and we can dance.”
    Sean’s laugh was almost more sober than Zach’s dreamy voice. “I’d settle for having you come to my flat for a beer.”
    “That too.”
    “Are you guys getting out?”
    Zach pulled himself back to the present and sighed. “I will see you around,” he said softly, and Sean shook his head.
    “God, I hope so.”
    He walked out and the irritated father, bemused mother, and baby in a stroller all crowded in.
    The door closed behind him.
    Ding!
     
     
    G OLDEN G ATE Park at night, even in the summer, was cold. He’d forgotten his scarf in his tizzy about the beer, and the breeze blowing through the amphitheater could have frozen the nads off an ice wizard. After the cellist performed (and Zach hoped they found a way to heat her and to keep her instrument from reacting to the salt air, because dayum, whose idea was this?) Zach found one of the gas-powered heat lamps. He huddled under it, wished heartily for Leah’s tipsy company, nursed his gratis mug of coffee (in a new insulated mug with his father’s face on it, no less!) and waited for the obligatory fly-by.
    It took a half-an-hour for his parents to work their way around the reception and get to him. He almost hated it worse when his mother was there—her smile seemed genuine, but he was never really sure with her.
    “Zach, darling—why didn’t you sit with us?” she asked, taking his hands in hers and going in to kiss his cheek. Her dress was a sort of sequined taffeta, and it whispered loudly when she leaned. She turned at the last moment so that the flash of the camera could blind them both and Zach turned back to her and tried to make his five minutes count.
    “Because I got here late,” he said truthfully. Only by a few moments, really, but he hadn’t wanted to put his parents out. “I had to talk to a friend before I left. You’ve been unavailable for brunch.”
    “I’m sorry, darling,” his mother said, moueing sweetly for the camera. “The last few months have been a whirlwind—it looks like your father actually has a shot this time!”
    “Which is why I wanted to talk to you,”