Mari raised a brow. “Are you by any chance offering to cook, because a, I don’t think I have anything except cereal; b, I don’t really have a full kitchen; and c, I’m too famished to wait for very long.”

“That’s a thought that never passes my mind.” Glenn held the locker room door open as Mari passed by. She smelled like the vanilla soap stocked in the shower room. Nice and clean. Her hair looked as soft as black velvet. “I’m afraid my main food group is pizza.”

“That’s an easy one, then,” Mari said as they walked out into a hot, heavy July night. The air was nearly tangible, thick with the promise of rain. Odd, the air for all its weight was nothing like the blanket of toxic smog that sometimes hung over LA. “Where is the best?”

“Bottoms Up, the bar at your end of town, makes a good one, if you want a cold beer to go with it. I’m pretty partial to Clark’s, but that might be because it’s ten steps from my door.”

Mari laughed. “I’ll take the closest.”

“My place for dinner, then,” Glenn said.

“All right, yes.” Mari drew a deep breath and some of her weariness dropped away. Glenn’s shoulder touched hers every few steps as they made their way down the winding road, and that was nice too. They didn’t speak and she didn’t mind. Glenn seemed content just to walk, and she was happy for the company, even though it was unexpected. She hadn’t shared a meal with anyone in months, outside family, and then rarely. She hadn’t been to a movie or out to dinner or even had a decent conversation with another soul. She wasn’t looking for that connection now either. She’d learned not to lean on anyone once she’d gotten to a place where she didn’t have to. She would never owe anyone anything again, never put herself in a position to be unable to fight back, out of obligation or guilt, but still, Glenn’s rock-sure presence in the gathering dark was welcome, even in the silence.

*

“This is without question the best pizza I’ve ever tasted.” Mari slid a third piece of loaded veggie onto her plastic-coated paper plate.

Glenn smiled, enjoying Mari’s pleasure and the unself-conscious way she attacked her food. “I’m not gonna argue that.”

“I have a terrible feeling this might become my favorite dinner spot.”

“Why terrible?”

Mari laughed. “I might need more exercise than walking a mile up the hill to work every day if I do this every night.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Glenn said. “You’ll do plenty of running in the ER, and besides…I can’t see as you have anything to worry about, a few pounds more or not.”

Mari felt herself blushing. The compliment was probably not even intentional, just the kind of thing everyone said under those circumstances, but she liked the idea that Glenn had noticed. And wasn’t that odd. She hadn’t even thought about anything remotely intimate in so long she’d forgotten that was even a possibility. “Thanks.”

Glenn tilted her head, a small line forming between her brows. “You’re welcome, for whatever.”

As she’d thought, Glenn hadn’t meant anything personal by the comment. Mari hid her momentary consternation by glancing around the small storefront pizza parlor. The ovens were in the rear, with half a dozen tables and two standing counters dividing the room, and big plate-glass windows on either side of the door. She was surprised to see the place was packed on a Wednesday night. She and Glenn had snagged one of the few remaining tables when they’d arrived, and now they were all full, mostly with teenagers, but here and there a family or lone adult occupied a spot. The front door opened and another gaggle of teens came in, rushing to the counter and talking all at once. A boy and girl came in a second later and drew up to the rear of the crowd.

Glenn glanced over and instantly her whole demeanor changed, so subtly Mari might not have noticed if she hadn’t been watching her for the last half hour. Glenn’s expression blanked into remote, tight lines. Her eyes narrowed and scanned the entire room before settling on the teens in front of the counter, her shoulders coiled with tension. Mari followed her gaze, trying to see what had caught her focus so intensely, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. A couple of kids jostled a couple of the other ones, comments flew back and forth too quickly to sort out, but Glenn must’ve heard something Mari didn’t. Suddenly Glenn pushed her paper plate away and slid her chair back several inches. Her body flexed as if she was about to launch from the chair.

“What is it?” Mari asked.

“Probably nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Glenn said, her flat tone clearly at odds with her words.

When a dark-haired boy and a pretty girl with long, gold-streaked curls edged away from the crowd and claimed a suddenly vacant table, Glenn walked over, leaned down, and murmured something to them Mari couldn’t hear. The kids were a cute couple, fresh-faced and wholesome, terms Mari didn’t usually think about when looking at teenagers. The girl wore no makeup and had the slightly gangly, long-limbed build that heralded an elegant beauty in a few years. She was dressed simply in a red tank top and skinny jeans. The boy’s refined good looks could have put him in contention for a modeling job in a fashion magazine, but he seemed unaware of his appeal in his loose T-shirt, baggy shorts, and typical slumped, teenage-boy posture she’d seen on her brothers.

The boy shook his head. The girl just shrugged and gave Glenn a wry smile.

Whatever they’d said didn’t seem to defuse Glenn’s hypervigilant mood. When she turned and took a step toward the group at the counter, the blonde grasped Glenn’s wrist and tugged her back with a head shake. After a second, Glenn nodded curtly and returned to their table.

“Is everything all right?” Mari could tell from Glenn’s brusque movements she still was unhappy about something, and Mari’s instinct was to soothe her.

“More or less,” Glenn said.

“Who are the kids?”

“Blake Remy, Abby’s son, and Margie Rivers, Flann’s sister.”

“Wow, are they dating?”

“I don’t know,” Glenn said. “They’re tight friends, though.”

“They’re cute.”

“Uh-huh,” Glenn said, still looking as if she was ready to go into battle.

That was it. Glenn’s entire attitude emanated an air of readiness, not exactly aggressive, but prepared. Glenn’s gaze suddenly shifted to Mari, and she shivered. She wasn’t afraid, didn’t feel in danger, but ice swept down her spine. “What?”

“What’s a mean girl?”

Mari stared, then laughed softly. “You don’t know?”

Frowning, Glenn shook her head. “I guess I missed that in high school.”

“Who told you, then?”

Glenn tilted her head. “Margie. She said not to worry about the mean girls. But somebody’s hassling them, and I want to know why.”

“Oh, wow, okay. In a nutshell,” Mari said, “means girls are all about being the popular ones, and anyone who isn’t one of them is fair game for taunting and teasing.”

“Bullying, you mean?” Glenn got that look again—a spring coiling. Mari’s karate instructor when she’d been a preteen had called it a state of readiness. Watchful waiting.

“Not necessarily anything that extreme, but I suppose it depends on the person at the receiving end and how badly they want to fit in.”

“Why? What’s the goal?” Glenn asked, still looking flummoxed.

“Usually it’s about boys. The popular girls are most attractive to boys, especially older boys.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Glenn muttered.

“Don’t you remember high school? Everything’s about status, and who you date is a big part of that.”

“I wasn’t part of any of that.”

“Loner?” Mari guessed.

“I just kept my head down and put in my time.”

The statement was cryptic, but Mari sensed the memory was a hard one. “So the girls are giving Margie trouble?”

“Something like that, I think. Of course, neither of them would tell me.”

“It’s probably better they sort it out themselves. It’s a teenager thing.”

“Yeah, probably, but this is a little different.”

“Why is that?”

Glenn seemed to be giving her answer some thought until she finally said, “It’s not a secret, so I don’t think he’d mind me saying. Blake is trans, and he’s already drawn some unwanted attention from an older bunch of ass—morons.”

“He’s out to everyone?” Mari asked. “And Dr. Remy is supportive, I imagine?”

“Sure,” Glenn said, as if there couldn’t be any other answer.

Mari sagged back in her chair, so many emotions charging through her at once she had trouble sorting them out. “I think I’m jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of Blake.”

“Are you saying you’re…?”

“Me? No,” Mari said, enjoying the look of worry that flashed across Glenn’s face. “No, I am firmly a women-only lesbian, but I didn’t really get that about myself until just recently. Makes me feel a little silly when I see someone like Blake.”

“Some don’t make all the connections right away. No harm, no foul.”

“I bet you did,” Mari said.

“What makes you think so?”

“Because you seem so certain, so sure of everything. Who you are and what you’re about.”

“Maybe that’s just a front.”

“I don’t think so,” Mari said softly.

“You still didn’t tell me why you’re jealous of Blake,” Glenn said, once again neatly deflecting the topic from herself.

Mari regretted her impulsive statement. She wasn’t ready to expose her private hurts, especially not so soon. “It’s a familiar story, I guess. It’s not important.”

“If it’s your story, it’s not familiar, and it’s not unimportant.” Glenn held her gaze, steady and strong. “But it’s yours to tell.”

Mine to tell. Maybe Glenn was practically a stranger, but somehow, she didn’t feel that way. Glenn was so intensely present, so focused on her, Mari trusted her in a way she hadn’t trusted anyone in forever.