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of the hops, but I’m not sure I believe it.”
    Ian ignored the comment, one of Brent’s regular pointless factoids. “No, we’re not dating. I stop in there every so often when I need a book.”
    â€œNever been in there.” Brent ate another of Ian’s mozzarella sticks. “You had the hots for her back in high school, right?”
    Brent had a way of cutting right to the point. Ian finished his beer with a long swig. “Yeah. But I had the hots for anybody who’d have me.”
    Brent studied him. “I remember it a bit differently. I definitely heard more about Emma than I did about any of the other girls you never asked out. If you’d been the type to draw hearts on your notebooks, you’d have drawn hearts on your notebook.”
    Ian rolled his eyes, even though the statement was more accurate than he wanted to admit.
    â€œSo why were you at her apartment?”
    â€œI’m going to teach a class in her back room.”
    Brent looked sideways at him. “Is that some kind of perverted euphemism?”
    Ian laughed. “No. I mean literally. She’s got this great back room in her shop, and I’m going to rent it for a workshop in a couple of weeks.”
    â€œThat’s cool, I guess. Does she know what it’s for?”
    â€œYeah, I told her.”
    â€œAnd how did she react?” Brent ate the last of Ian’s mozzarella sticks and washed it down with some of his beer.
    â€œShe . . .” Ian paused, thinking. “I don’t know. I’m not sure? Like, I think she was nervous, but I don’t know if it was good nervous or bad nervous.”
    â€œSo, what. You’re wondering if you’ve got a chance with her?” Brent rested his elbows on the bar and looked up at the television mounted over the shelves of bottles, momentarily distracted by the Red Sox game.
    Ian didn’t wait for him to look back over. “Maybe.”
    â€œJust ask her.”
    â€œIt’s not that simple.” Ian rubbed his thumb over the swell of the glass, drawing a path through the condensation. “I guess I want to know if she’d be into it. It’s been a while since I dated a girl I didn’t meet through FetLife.”
    Brent snorted. “It’s been a while since you’ve dated a girl, period.”
    â€œShut up, asshat, I’m serious. I’ve been doing these rope classes for so long that I forget it’s not normal to most people.”
    Brent shrugged. “I don’t know, man. I’m not sure what you want me to tell you. If you want her to come, ask her to come. The worst she can say is no, right?”
    â€œYeah, maybe you’re right.” It still seemed strange to take relationship advice from Brent, but the man had a stable marriage, which was a fair accomplishment. Ian gestured for a refill on his beer. “Maybe I’ll wait until after this first workshop.”
    â€œDon’t be a pussy.”
    â€œFuck you,” Ian said without malice. “So how’s Missy?”
    â€œGood. Craving all kinds of weird shit, though. I guess that’s normal.” Brent shrugged. “She told me if I was coming here that I better come back with Sulli’s fried pickles and pretzel plate or I shouldn’t bother coming back at all.”
    â€œWhen’s she due again?”
    â€œJune thirtieth. Ten weeks left. I can’t believe I’m gonna be a dad.” Brent smiled, his lips curling only a bit, as he stared down into his empty beer glass.
    Ian clapped his friend on the back. “Don’t drop the kid when it’s born.”
    â€œI know, asshole.” Brent leaned back on the stool, drumming his fingers on the bar top. He seemed to understand Ian’s silence. “Just ask her to come to the workshop.”
    â€œYeah. Maybe.” Ian watched the Red Sox score against Baltimore, knowing there was no way he would listen to Brent’s