By the time practice ends, I’m in a riotously good mood. Nico, walking beside me, doesn’t outwardly appear to be riding the same high as me, but he’s not scowling, either. Plus, I’ve somehow convinced him to go out to dinner with me. The sun seems to be shining down on me today, and I mean to capitalize on it. “All right, what do we feel like?” I ask, buckling my seat belt and looking across the car at Nico. “Whatever you like.” “The Tailored Hem?” I suggest. He looks at me. “You want to go to a gay bar for dinner? Just the two of us.” Before he can remind me of the no public dates rule, I
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