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Chapter Text

The first time Anton sees him, he’s on Issa’s phone screen.

“Paul?” he asks. “His name is Paul?”

“It’s a normal name, Anton.”

“Are you sure it’s not Paul? Like in a French way?”

“I don’t know,” Issa says, tapping her phone screen. “He just said Paul. He’s from Canada.”

“That’s kind of French,” Samir offers.

“Oh, I know French!” Billie exclaims, entering the room. “What are we talking about?”

He frowns. “Didn’t you do Spanish in highschool?”

Ding! She whips her phone out of her pocket. “Oh, that’s my Duolingo reminder. I’ll be right back, guys.”

Anton watches her leave the room. “How long is her streak now?”

“I wanna say years,” Samir says, shaking his head. “I don’t think she’s even learning a language anymore, she’s just an addict.”

“Yeah, it’s a problem, I’m really worried for her.” Issa turns her phone screen toward them. “But he’s cute, right?”

“I mean, I think personality is the most-”

“Samir, shut up. Anton, do you think he’s cute?”

“Huh?” Anton snaps out of his trance. 

Issa huffs. “Do you think,” she shoves her phone in his face, “he’s cute?”

“Oh my god, I’ll tell you if you get out of my space for a second,” he squints and pushes her arm away, trying to get a good look at the picture. Good jawline, solid head of hair, nice muscles, kind eyes. He’s attractive, in a young Charlie Swan kind of way. He also looks potentially insufferable. The nail polish, the rings decorating one hand with an iced coffee in the other. Anton’s shocked that his crocheted sweater top isn’t adorned with the words ‘6’4 feminist.’  

“Yeah, he’s… cute,” Anton admits. “And you’re sure this guy is straight?”

Issa turns her phone back, moving ‘Paul’ out of Anton’s gaze. “Well, he said he’s fluid.”

Samir tilts his head. “What does that mean?”

“Oh my god, Samir, you’re such a straight man,” she rolls her eyes. She turns her attention back to Anton. “What does that mean?”

Anton shrugs. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like…” He cocks his head in search of the right word. “Sexually agnostic.”

Issa nods. “You know, I've been thinking about converting to agnosticism.”

“I don’t think agnosticism is something you convert to,” Samir says.

“He, like, barely owns a phone, though.” She chews on the inside of her cheek. “I’ve never met a chronically offline gay before.”

“What do you mean 'barely owns a phone’? I thought this was from his Instagram.”

“Oh, no. I stalked his mom on Facebook.”

Samir drags his palms across his face. “Issa, you’re kidding.”

“You guys wanted a picture!”

“What’s his last name?” Anton asks out of curiosity.

“Anton, you can’t stalk his mom.” 

“What?” He throws his palms up in defense. “I’m not asking his mom’s name, just his. Talk about a pot calling the kettle black.”

“956, baby!” Billie cheers, walking back into the living room and perching herself on the armrest of the couch. “Are we talking about that guy? You should check if he’s a registered sex offender.”

“Guys, he seems harmless,” Issa reasons.

“Those are the ones you need to watch out for,” she argues. “They’re all like ‘I read Virginia Woolf’ and ‘I have a sourdough starter at home’ to get your guard down. And suddenly, your wallet and keys are in their tote bag and they’re halfway across the country.”

Anton laces his fingers together. “Billie, you have your keys, right?”

“Oh, yeah. This was a while ago.”

“Okay, good, ‘cause…” he looks at Samir. “Mindwipe?”

Everyone in the room nods.

“I can’t find mine.”

Samir blinks. “What?”

He motions plucking a thought from his head and throwing it away. “I called mindwipe.”

“You can’t mindwipe that you lost your keys!”

“He’ll find them, Samir,” Issa says, copying Anton’s motion as Billie does the same. “You have to respect the mindwipe.”

Reluctantly, Samir follows suit. “You better find them.”

He waves him off. “More importantly, what is Paul’s last name?”

Issa huffs. “Baker.”

“Paul Baker,” Anton vocalizes. 

She nods. “Paul Baker.”

“Paul Baker,” Samir and Billie parrot in unison.

“There’s probably so many axe murderers named Paul Baker.” Anton shakes his head. “God save us all.”

Issa sighs. “Do you guys think I should ghost him?”

“You should do whatever feels right,” Samir says. Billie shrugs.

“No, ‘cause I care what you guys think. If you think I should ghost him, I will.”

“Okay, let’s hang on a second,” Anton says, plucking the phone out of her hands. “You said he was nice, right?’’

“Yeah, really nice.” Her hand tightens around his arm. “Maybe too nice?”

“Oh my god, just text him.” He presses the phone back into her hands.

For a moment, they all stare in anticipation, waiting for her to do something other than stare at her screen. Finally she shoves the phone back into Anton’s direction. “I can’t.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, typing out a simple ‘hi’. He hands the phone back and gets up off the couch walking away. “There. You’re welcome.”

It’s good for Issa to put herself back in the dating pool. A date is good. A date will get her momentum going. Anton doubts he’ll ever see Paul Baker’s face again.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

The second time Anton sees him, he’s in their kitchen.

He’s shirtless, rifling through the cupboard. A soft, “Oh,” leaves his mouth when he opens the dishwasher.

Anton snorts, startling the man before him. “She left her vibe in there again, didn’t she? She needs to stop doing that.”

He spins around to face him, his eyebrows hiked up to his hairline and his mouth in the shape of an ‘o’. “Yeah, it’s um…” He shakes his head. “I mean, I’m sex positive, though”

His eyes flick up and down his shirtless frame. “Clearly.”

He looks down at himself, as if only just realizing that he’s not fully clothed. As if walking around half naked is his natural form. “I normally wear a shirt,” he insists, like he’s trying to cover up a crime. “I just… Issa’s wearing mine right now and, uh. None of hers fit me.”

“Right. Coffee?”

“Just water. Sorry, um. I’m-”

“Paul Baker,” Anton completes, grabbing a glass out of the dishrack and turning on the sink. “I’m familiar.”

“Yeah, that’s me.” His hands are fixed on his hips. “You’re… Anton?”

There’s certain things you learn about a person that you can’t from a photo on Issa’s phone screen. Like the slight rasp in his deep voice, or the scent of sandalwood and sweat engulfing him. And the kind eyes, of course. Though Anton already knew that one.

He hands him the glass. “Issa mentioned me?”

“Oh, yeah, she loves you guys. Gave me a whole tour of her camera roll.”

Shit, Issa. “Oh, god,” he groans. “Please don’t tell me-”

“Your Dorothy Gale Halloween costume was incredible.”

Anton looks at him with narrowed eyes, expecting to see indications of sarcasm– maybe a laugh or a mocking comment– but there are none. Maybe there should be, because no one should be talking about that ancient Halloween costume with the amount of sincerity that Paul Baker is right now.

What a freak.

He shakes his head. “No. Nuh-uh. Wipe that from your mind. Right now.”

“But it’s so good.”

“Listen,” he holds a finger up, “it should have been Issa.”

He takes a gulp of water. “Right.”

“She’s the shortest. It only makes sense that she’s the child.”

Paul Baker nods solemnly. “Of course.”

“But she, for some reason, insists on being the Lion. And Billie doesn’t wanna be Dorothy because her hair is ‘too short’.” He points at his head. “And mine isn’t?”

“You rocked that wig, dude.”

“I know I did. But what we should have done is have Samir, our only straight person, be Dorothy. That way, we could call ourselves-”

“-Friends of Dorothy,” Paul Baker completes, running his fingers over his mustache, smoothening it out. “That’s funny.”

Anton doesn’t like being interrupted, but he doesn’t mind it this time. It feels less like a cutoff and more like an acknowledgement. 

He feels the corners of his mouth lift up ever so slightly. “Yeah. We were going to do Mystery Inc. with me as Daphne, Billie as Fred, Samir as Shaggy, and Issa as Velma, but Issa claimed that having her be Velma would make everyone think that we’re dressing up as the Mindy Kaling knockoff version. Which makes no sense, by the way, because do I look like Constance Wu to you?”

He nods. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Whatever you said. Constant something.”

“Constance Wu?” 

His eyes widen. “Oh, shit, is that a friend of yours? Sorry, I’ve just never heard the name Constance before.”

Anton resists the urge to laugh. Issa didn’t mention just how chronically offline Paul Baker was. It’s kind of adorable. “You know who Mindy Kaling is, right?”

“I mean,” he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’ve heard the name Mindy before.”

“That… actually might be for the best,” he concedes. “Do you not, like… watch movies? I guess that makes you a good match for Issa. She hasn’t seen anything.”

He shakes his head. “I love movies. I minored in film studies. Not that I’ve done much with that.”

“Well, you can start by teaching us a thing or two. My Letterboxd is practically empty.”

“Uh…” A puzzled expression makes its way across Paul Baker’s face. “Your mailbox is really full. Like, really full.”

“Honey, no, it’s… never mind. Don’t even worry about it.” His upper lip curls to conceal a laugh. “She’s asleep?”

“Out like a light.”

“You must’ve kept her up.”

“Oh, I don’t know about-”

“I do,” he assures him. “Seriously, she hasn’t stopped talking about it.”

“Sorry if we were too loud.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Once, the garbage disposal wouldn’t stop making noises in the middle of the night. Ever since then, we can sleep through anything.”

“That’s good,” Paul Baker says. “I mean, not good about the garbage disposal, just good that-”

“Relax, you’re good. Just… watch ‘Crazy Rich Asians’ , okay?”

He looks at him with the blankest stare Anton’s ever seen in his life. “I don’t know what that means.”

“The movie, Paul Baker.”

Footsteps pound down the stairs. Issa walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Paul Baker!” She gravitates towards him, her arms wrapping around his waist. Indeed, she’s wearing a shirt that’s much too large for her. Anton doubts she’ll ever give it back. “You met Anton?”

“I had the honor,” Paul Baker smiles at him as he wraps his arm around her.

“Ugh, he’s a flirt,” Anton says, rolling his eyes. “I have to get on a work call. Please take your dildo out of the dishwasher. It was nice meeting you, Paul Baker.”

He raises his glass of water as if to give a toast. “You too, Anton.”

Anton doesn’t know if he’ll ever see Paul Baker’s face again, but he wouldn’t mind it.

Chapter Text

“I think,” Issa grumbles, “that we should go back to the olden days when dogs were boys, cats were girls, and all the other animals were nonbinary.”

“I’m just saying,” Samir says, “you and Paul Baker are not a ‘golden retriever-black cat’ couple.”

“How can you say that?” she asks. “Have you seen him? He’s totally a golden retriever!”

“He absolutely is,” Billie agrees, tossing a bag of Flamin’ Hot into their shopping cart, “but you’re not a black cat.”

Anton hums in agreement. “True,” he says, absentmindedly scanning the snack aisle. “You’re too excitable.”

“I am not!” she yells, startling an innocent bystander and causing them to drop a bag of chips.  Anton rushes forward and swoops in to pick up the bag and hand it back to the stranger. 

“We are so sorry. She’s going through some stuff right now,” he mock-whispers, knowing fully well that Issa can hear him. “Great taste, by the way,” he adds, despite not bothering to check what brand or flavor of chips they had picked out. 

The bystander thanks him and keeps walking through the aisle, disappearing behind a display of Pringles cans. 

Anton spins around to face Issa and deadpans, “Case in point.”

“It’s okay to wear your heart on your sleeve,” Billie assures her. “You’re emotionally available!”

“That’s a good thing,” Samir clarifies. 

“Yeah. I mean, you have some cat-like qualities-”

“Like the fact that you ask if you can sit in the cart every time we go grocery shopping,” he chimes in.

She points at him with a nods. “Exactly. But at your core, you’re an excited puppy, and Samir is a really shaggy, scrawny dog that’s kind of funny looking but still adorable.”

Samir tilts his head. “Oddly specific.”

Billie ignores him. “Me? I think at first glance, people think I would be a cat.”

Anton nods. “Because of the bob. You’re definitely a dog, though. Cats don’t wear that much flannel.”

“Exactly,” she tells Issa, walking along as she pushes the cart. “But you know who is a cat? Anton.”

“Oh, you’re so right,” Samir says. “Anton’s totally a black cat.”

“Anton is a black cat?!” Issa exclaims, sounding offended. “And I’m not?”

“First of all,” Billie starts, “the name ‘Anton’ in itself is too gay to be a dog name. Anton is the name of a Uranian cat with a passion for collecting opera glasses.”

“I’m right here, by the way,” Anton lets them know. “Can we go to the dairy section? We’re out of cheese again.”

“He’s not a black cat!” Issa protests. “Black cats aren’t social butterflies and they definitely don’t wear 2 pounds of body glitter when they’re going to the club.”

His jaw falls open. “Okay, just for that, I’m not letting you borrow any next time.”

“See, Anton,” Samir side-steps to allow Billie to turn the cart at the end of the aisle, “very charismatic dude.”

“Very,” Billie agrees. “But there’s also something deeply sinister about him.”

“It’s the compliments,” he says. “They’re disingenuous.”

Anton gasps. “Not true!” he lies. “I mean every word I say! Maybe I hyperbolize sometimes, sue me. That’s just the salesman in me.”

“Hm,” Samir considers. “What are you selling?”

He thinks for a moment. “Uh, friendship?”

He snaps his fingers and points his index in Anton’s face. “See? It’s all strategic.”

“Anton doesn’t love the average stranger as much as he loves being loved by the average stranger,” Billie explains as Samir opens the dairy fridge and picks up a pack of American cheese, “so he has the ability to get people attached to him without getting attached to them. Like a black cat.”

“Okay, psychoanalysis,” Anton scoffs. He looks at Issa and jokes, “Maybe we should fire George.”

“I think we have everything,” Samir says.

“Oh, no. No, we don’t,” Billie says. “Samir, it’s time for you to complete your House Rule.”

His face drops. He takes a step back. “Stop, no it’s not.”

“You literally have the easiest one.”

“No, I don’t.” He petulantly crosses his arms. “Issa has the easiest one.”

“Okay, catching strays and for what?” Issa asks, throwing her hands up. “Mine is not the easiest.”

“The rest of us have to make lifestyle changes. You have to register to vote, which you should’ve done a long time ago.”

She huffs. “I don’t think you guys realize how difficult it is for immigrants in this country-”

“Girl, you immigrated from California,” Anton says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s get you on vote.org.”

Billie grabs Samir by the shoulders, wearing the authoritative expression that one can only pick up from years of Model UN.  “Samir, your mom calls me, like, every week to ask if you’re eating enough fruit,” she says. “I can’t take the heartbreak of disappointing her anymore.”

Samir sighs. “Okay, fine,” he concedes. “Let’s go to produce.”

Samir and Billie walk ahead. Anton begins to follow, but feels a tug on his shirt. He looks behind him to see Issa, her big brown eyes flicking over the selections of meat in the freezer.

“What’s up?” he asks her.

“You don’t think it means anything, right?” she asks. “Paul Baker being a golden retriever but me not being a black cat?”

“What? Issa, no. Obviously that doesn’t mean anything. Are you insane?” He leans against the fridge door. “That’s not how people work. Relationships don’t work out based on what boxes you fit into, they’re just about,” he waves his hand at her, “you. And how you feel.”

“Right,” she sighs. “Yeah, obviously.”

He tilts his head. “...How do you feel?”

“I definitely like him.” She pauses. “Mindwipe?”

Anton nods. “Of course.”

“He’s funny. He’s so nice, it makes me horny sometimes,” she lists off. “He doesn’t judge me. The sex is great, obviously. And I feel like… I don’t know, I think I could see myself falling in love with him. But I’m just like, is that even what I want?” She shrugs. “I don’t usually date seriously, but he seems like he does. And now it feels like this gigantic deal because I think if we make things official, it could actually turn into something. Even if I decide that I wanna settle down, there’s so many things I wanna do before that, you know? I mean, I don’t even know how to scissor yet.”

Usually, mindwipes aren’t supposed to include input from the other party, but Issa’s a special case.

“Issa, dating someone doesn’t mean you throw your whole life away for them,” he reasons. “And besides, it’s not like this has to be it for you. If this doesn’t work out and you wanna learn how to scissor, you can. You don’t have to marry him when the clock strikes twelve.”

Issa’s good at casual sex, but not at casual dating. When things are purely physical, all is well. The moment emotions get involved she rushes in like there’s no tomorrow. Issa just loves people. Fortunately, that means it’s easier for her to move on. Unfortunately, it also makes it that much harder for her to let go.

“But if we don’t go all the way, we’ll break up,” Issa continues. “And I’m sure I’ll be fine, but I also don’t wanna be in a situation where I get attached and then have to cut him out of my life completely, because…”

“He’s funny, he’s so nice it turns you on, and he doesn’t judge you,” Anton completes.

“Guys!” Samir’s head pokes out from behind a box of cereal. “How do you tell if an avocado is ripe?”

“One second, Sammy!” he calls out and turns back to Issa. “You were saying?”

Issa gestures mindwipe. “I was done, anyway.”

“Understood.” Anton follows her gesture. “By the way, did you see Billie and Samir earlier?”

“Oh my god, I was gonna say!” she says, grabbing his arm. “They totally talk about us behind our back, don’t they?”

“I’m saying, like.”

ᯓᡣ𐭩

As Anton had predicted, he sees Paul Baker again. A few times, actually.

It’s usually no more than a brief greeting. Anton’s on a work call, pretending to pay attention. Paul Baker sits down across from him. Anton offers him a cup of coffee. Paul Baker opts for a glass of milk instead. Anton mimes gagging. Paul Baker laughs. The cycle continues.

Today should be no different. But it is.

“Shit, shit, shit, no!” he mutters, staring at the text from his co-worker.

“What’s wrong?” Issa scrambles out of her chair. “Oh god, don’t tell me. Chappell Roan-Jojo Siwa collab?”

“What? No. Why would that happen?” He shakes his head. “Diane just texted.”

She sighs with relief, touching her head, chest and shoulders in a quick cross. “Work Diane?”

“Yeah, apparently, Kelly’s coming in for a ‘check-in’, so I have to actually go to the office today.” He groans. “Fuck my life.”

“Can you call in sick?” Samir asks, pouring a cup of coffee and sliding it over to him.

He shakes his head, picking up the cup. “I’m saving those days. I’ll just take the train.”

“By yourself?!” Issa cries. “What if you get hate-crimed?”

He sips his coffee. “People get hate-crimed all the time. I’ll be fine.”

“Who’s getting hate-crimed?” Paul Baker asks as he walks into the kitchen, his hand taking its usual place at Issa’s waist. “Hey, guys.”

“Hi, Paul Baker,” they reply in unison.

He nods at Anton. “No work call today?”

“Worse,” he replies.

“He wants to take the train to work,” Issa explains. “Alone. He’s not built for that kind of thing!”

Billie rushes into the room “Morning!” she yells. “Hey, Paul Baker.”

“Hi, Billie.”

Samir slides over a thermos of coffee for her, which she picks up. “Thank you, baby angel.” She turns to Issa. “Does my hair look okay? You know what, fuck it, I’ll fix it in the car.”

“The car!” Issa exclaims. “Billie, can you drop Anton off at work?”

She gulps down her coffee and frowns. “Anton’s going to work?”

“Right? Anyways, can you?”

Billie and Samir exchange a look of hesitation. “Uh-”

“No, she cannot,” Anton answers for her. “My office is in the opposite direction of hers. There’s no way we’d get there in time, and she’s already late.”

Billie sighs, grabbing the keys and planting a kiss on Anton’s cheek. “Thank you for understanding,” she says before sprinting toward the door.

He turns to Issa. “I’m taking the train.”

“Well, then I’m coming with you,” Issa insists.

“Honey, you and your bisexual haircut are not helping our hate-crime immunity.”

“I can take you,” Paul Baker offers.

Anton and Issa’s heads whip around to face him. “You can?” they say in unison.

“I have a car and you need a ride, so I’ll take you,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “How far is it?”

“Like, almost 20 minutes,” Anton says. “You don’t have to-”

“Cool. I don’t have anywhere to be.” He grabs his tote bag. “It’s my day off, anyway.”

Issa’s jaw is on the floor and her smile is so wide, Anton imagines her cheeks must be hurting. “Thank you, Paul Baker!” She grabs Anton by the shoulders and whisper-yells, “Go to him!”

Paul Baker and Issa aren’t even official yet. Anton didn’t think they were at the ‘I’ll drive your bestfriend/roommate to work’ stage of their relationship, but he supposes Paul Baker doesn’t seem like a murderer. 

ᯓᡣ𐭩

As soon as he gets in the passenger seat of Paul Baker’s car, his phone starts buzzing

issa

DO YOU SEE WHAT IM SAYING

HE’S SO NICE

I ALMOST TOOK HIS PANTS OFF RIGHT THERE

Anton covers his mouth to stifle a laugh. Paul Baker looks up as he starts the car. “What’s up?”

“Oh, Issa just… appreciates you driving me,” he tells him. “I do too, so thank you. I promise you won’t have to do this again.”

“It’s chill, man. Any time.” He hands him his phone. “Type the address in?”

His fingers fly across the keyboard, typing it in. He hands him the phone back. “Here.”

Anton’s usually great with strangers. Some would say better than he is with his closest friends. When he’s talking to a stranger, it’s compliments galore. He doesn’t do dry, one-word answers. He makes them feel like the most important person in the room.

It’s different when the stranger is someone dating Billie, Samir, or Issa. He’s still his charming self, of course, but he can’t allow a stranger to think they’ll ever be more important than his friends. He can’t allow them to get too comfortable. When people get too comfortable, they hurt other people. 

So he keeps them at an arm’s length. Granted, in this metaphorical situation, his arms aren’t very long.

Paul Baker starts driving. “So, Anton,” he starts, “you seeing anyone?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Okay, forward.”

“I don’t mean like-” He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m just starting a conversation. I don’t like silence.”

“That’s the conversation you wanna have?”

“You know my relationship status, I feel like I should get to know yours. Level the playing field.”

“It’s never gonna be levelled,” Anton says. “You’re going out with my best friend. I learn more about you in a day than you’re ever going to know about me.”

“Oh, yeah?” he challenges. “Like what?”

He thinks back to the text Issa just sent him. “Well, it gets explicit.”

“Oh.” His cheeks are tinted pink.

Finally, he gives in. “No, I'm not seeing anyone. I’m actually kind of going through a breakup right now.”

“Oh, shit, dude. I’m sorry.” Paul Baker grimaces. “How recent?”

Fuck. “Oh, y’know, like,” he mumbles unintelligibly.

“Sorry?”

He looks out the window, watching the cars passing by them. “Like…six months.”

There’s a bump in the road. The car jumps. “Oh.”

“I can feel you judging me.”

“I’m not judging,” he says quickly. “I swear, I’m not judging. Getting out of a serious relationship can be rough, I know.”

Anton shrugs. “Well, it was the longest one I’ve ever had.”

“Damn, so like, years?”

“Yeah.” His voice jumps an octave. “Yeah, like… year.”

He leans ever so slightly to his right, towards Anton. “Sorry, did you just say ‘year’?”

He bobs his head side to side. “Yeah, year. Give or take. A year.”

Paul Baker’s eyes flicker between him and the road. “Take, I’m guessing?” 

“Listen,” he throws his hands up in defense. “Nobody wants anything serious anymore, and everyone just assumes that you don’t either.”

“Okay, that I definitely get.”

“Like, what? Just because I’m at the club with a slutty little waist, I can’t yearn for a loving relationship?”

He nods. “You do have a slutty waist. Issa’s brought it up multiple times.” He pauses. “Can I say that?”

Anton waves it off. “You’re stating a fact, it’s fine,” he says. “But it’s so difficult to find someone who wants the same things. And on the rare occasion that you think you’ve found that someone, it doesn’t work out. It fucking sucks.”

He nods in agreement. “That makes complete sense, actually. I’m not a casual guy, either. That’s why I’m so glad I met Issa, y’know? It feels like it could be more than just sex.”

He bites his tongue, his mind drifting back to their conversation in the grocery store. “Mhm.”

Paul Baker winces. “Sorry, I kind of made that about me.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“Nah, I heard it as soon as I said it. I’m sorry about your ex. You’re better off without him.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So you just assumed it was a him?”

Panic flashes across Paul Baker’s face. “Uh…”

Anton snorts. “I’m fucking with you, obviously.”

“Fuck, man,” he throws his head back.

“Not very woke of you, Paul Baker. But yes, it was, in fact, a him.”

“Okay, good,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, not good, but-”

“Not good? Wow.”

“No, it’s great, but I’m not like, ‘Good, you should only date men.’ ”

“So it’s great that I got my heart broken?”

“No! I-” he cuts himself off. “You’re fucking with me again.”

“Of course I’m fucking with you again. You’re so easy to fuck with.”

They drive in silence for a minute. 

Paul Baker’s the one to break it, of course. “Issa really cares about you,” he says out of the blue.

Anton doesn’t know what to do with that. “Oh.”

“All of you. You, Billie, Samir.”

“I know. We care about her too.”

“And… well, you know I’m gonna ask her to be my girlfriend.”

“I might’ve seen it coming.”

“Right.”

A beat of silence. Anton watches Paul Baker’s hands tighten around the wheel, his silver rings pressing into his fingers.

His mouth twists in amusement. “Wait, are you asking for my blessing?”

Paul Baker glances at him. “I mean, kind of.”

“While you’re driving me to work? Imagine I say no,” he laughs. “You pull over and kick me out of the car. Leave me in a dark alley with a bunch of hairless cats.”

“I wouldn’t kick you out, Anton.”

“You’re building a very compelling case for yourself,” he admits. “Is this whole errand part of your campaign?”

“No!” he says in defense. “It didn’t even cross my mind to say anything to you until just now.”

“So you weren’t going to ask for my blessing?”

“You gotta stop fucking with me, man.”

Anton sighs. “Fine. You have my blessing.”

Paul Baker blinks. “That’s it?”

“What? You want me to knight you? Bathe you in holy water?”

“If she says yes, I’m gonna be around a lot,” he explains, as if it wasn’t clear. “Like, more than I am now.”

“Look, I don’t have any problems with you being around,” Anton tells him. “If Billie and Samir do, they either haven’t told me, or I was ignoring them when they did. At the end of the day, Issa’s making the decision, and like you said, she cares about us. If what you’re worried about is whether we’re gonna be okay with it, I trust her to take that into consideration.”

“Oh.” His grip on the wheel loosens. “So no death threats?”

“Death threats are tacky. If you’re gonna kill someone, just do it, y’know?”

“Right, yeah. That makes sense.”

He sees a familiar building. “Oh, turn left here. The GPS always gets this part wrong.”

“Got it,” he says, making the turn. 

“Now just a bit further and…. Yeah. This is me.”

“Awesome,” Paul Baker exhales. “I hope you’re not late.”

Anton checks his phone as he opens the car door. “Not so late that I can’t get away with it.” He climbs out of the car. “Thanks, again. Really, I appreciate it.”

As he’s walking towards the building. He hears the car window roll down and Paul Baker call after him. “Wait, when do you get off?”

He spins around. “What?”

“When should I pick you up?”

He wants to laugh. “Paul Baker, you’re not picking me up.”

His eyebrows furrow. “How are you gonna get home?”

“I’ll take the train.”

“And when Issa goes into cardiac arrest?”

He shrugs. “Your girlfriend, your problem.”

“Just tell me a time!”

He shakes his head. “Goodbye, Paul Baker,” he calls, walking through the doors

“Anton!” he continues to call, but his voice is muffled by the glass panes.

It’s fine, though. He knows this won’t be the last he sees of Paul Baker.