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pants today. With his thick eyeliner and pouty lips, he looked like a runway model.
    I pushed the smooth strands of hair back over my shoulder. “It just looks longer because it’s straight.” My hair was naturally wavy. Flat-ironing it had given it another three inches in length.
    Marcos looked unconvinced. “You work at a barber’s. You could get it cut, you know.”
    Derrick’s eyes narrowed to slits. “A
barber
?
Excuse me?
”
    â€œWhoops,” I said. Marcos’s comment didn’t bother me. He’d practically been my big brother from the day he’d been assigned as my bodyguard. Saving my ass at the bridge had only served to solidify the role.
    While Derrick educated Marcos on the difference between a barbershop and a salon, I grabbed my stuff.
    â€œSo, who’s the lucky guy?” asked Derrick.
    â€œWhat guy?” said Marcos.
    Derrick laughed, and patted his cheek, which immediately had him blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.
    â€œYou’re cute,” said Derrick. “A girl doesn’t get her hair done
that
nice unless she wants a man to mess it up.”
    â€œWait . . .” Marcos was frowning. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”
    â€œI’m
not
,” I said, exasperated. “Not that I feel the need to run every little thing by you.”
    â€œThen where are you going?” pressed Marcos. He did look handsome in his wrinkle-free white shirt, even with his serious mouth and thick eyebrows. They were sort of his trademark.
    â€œA fund-raiser,” I said. “For CASA. Hey, what are you guys doing tonight?”
    â€œBelieve it or not, I own a business,” said Derrick. “Which I probably should be getting back to.”
    I looked at Marcos. “Want to come to a fancy schmancy fund-raiser? It’s formal.” I might as well have told him they’d be serving rotten fish.
    He glanced at Derrick, who smirked back at him. Wow. They were already to the silent-ask-for-permission phase.
    â€œI’m not dancing,” said Marcos.
    â€œI wouldn’t let you even if you wanted to,” I told him.
    â€œThen yes,” he said. “What time? I’ll pick you up.”
    â€œPick me up in an hour,” I said. We were all standing now, and though Derrick had already announced his exit, he had yet to leave.
    Marcos glanced between us, and then shifted his weight to the other foot.
    â€œAre you waiting to kiss good-bye until I leave?” I asked. “That’s adorable.”
    Marcos cleared his throat. “We weren’t . . .”
    â€œYes, we were.” With that, Derrick grabbed his boyfriend’s face between his well-manicured hands, and kissed him right on the lips. Marcos, still uncomfortable with the whole
out
thing, made a sound like he was dying.
    And then started to melt.
    I turned, just as his eyes drifted closed and his hands came beneath Derrick’s elbows. It was too intimate to watch, and even if I was a little jealous he had someone to sweep him off his feet, I was genuinely happy for him.
    â€œAn hour,” I called, as I cruised to the door.

Five
    â€œT here’s a handsome cop at the door to see you.” My dad stuck his head into the bathroom where I was just finishing my makeup. His nose was red from the cold, and he’d succumbed to wearing his giant glasses rather than his contacts. “You can see how I’d find this surprising, given our lengthy discussions about dating cops.”
    I blinked, checking my mascara for lumps. My dad had two rules when it came to dating: one, Don’t date, and two, Don’t date cops.
    â€œWe discussed it when I was seventeen, Dad. Anyway, that’s Marcos. He’s the one Terry assigned to my protective detail before . . .” Everything fell apart. “I thought you’d met him.”
    He made an unconvinced noise. “I would