“Andrew?” I ask. Lucky cringes, almost. “Yeah, uh. He’s gone, too.” I shake my head. That’s not what I meant, and I think he knows it. “We’re friends. Mostly,” he says. Mostly. They’re sleeping together. My gut cramps. “You didn’t like him,” Lucky notes. No, I didn’t. I didn’t like the way he was touching Lucky, but I don’t tell him that. “It’s not serious, you know?” he says, almost like he’s pleading with me to understand. As if he would need my permission in the first place. “It’s just fun with him. Just some meaningless fun.”
