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I look ahead, almost able to pinpoint the apartment through the tangle of city buildings, noticing for a moment how the night sky seems to darken. "Yeah, right across the street. Terry was a lifesaver when I’d spend late nights at the museum and didn’t have the energy to make it home."

"What were you doing there so late?"

I give a sly smirk, a little too excited to showcase how I stand out from the average New Yorker. "Well, if you must know, the Met has one of the world’s largest collections of Egyptian antiquities outside Egypt, including, wait for it, numerous Books of the Dead and funerary papyri!"

Excitement bubbles up in me as I wait for the same spark to light up his face. Instead, he offers a gentle smile, the kind parents give when humoring a child’s hobby, before adding, "I imagine that must be quite informative."

"Oh, come on, that's pretty cool! It took me ages to get access to it! Them, The Brooklyn Museum, and NYU are a handful of places outside Columbia that have decent access to anything to do with Egyptian texts."

He gives a deeper smile that still doesn’t reach his eyes. “You must have worked hard to earn their trust.”

I let out a groan so loud it startles even the city’s famously docile pigeons. "No, it’s whatever. Let’s just go."

We continue, but it’s just not the same. He’s still handsome and a great listener, and I still want to take him back to my apartment more than I want to go to this party, but his reaction takes something out of me. Stranger still, the closer we get to Terry’s, the more I feel the urge to turn back, whether it’s some internal angst or the oddly gruff expressions on the faces of passing pedestrians. Either way, I’m keeping Kayvon, even if I have to teach him a lesson in how to feign more interest.

We get to the building and climb to the top floor. I knock on Terry's door, and his boyfriend Max answers, dressed in a bunny onesie. The lanky, bald man quickly looks me over before noticing the tall, dark man next to me, giving him a far more thorough inspection. I even think I see him bite his lower lip.

"Down, boy," I say as I push past him into the party.

We're barely inside when I hear Terry's obnoxious teasing voice yell, "I did say it was a Halloween party, as in costumes?"

I set down the bag with the chips on the kitchen counter before holding up the other bag. “We brought costumes, smartass; besides, Halloween isn’t even till tomorrow.”

I continue to the bathroom, expecting a witty retort, but he stays quiet—clearly too distracted by Kayvon, whom I catch him gawking at out of the corner of my eye.

I lead Kayvon in and lock the door before remembering just how cramped the typical NYC bathroom is.

"Should I wait outside?" Kayvon asks.

"It's too late now." I scoff as I start pulling the gauze out of the bag.

I silently thank my past self for having the foresight, long ago, to sew the gauze into loose sleeves and pant legs that slip on easily. The only annoying part now is the torso.

"Hold this," I say as I hand the spool of gauze to Kayvon and begin spinning until I have a snug shirt of it stretched around me. I do my best to pose in the cramped space. "What do you think?"

This time, he gives me the bright smile I’d wished for earlier. "Mummy!"

Even worse, that smile is infectious as I return it and reply, "Your turn."

I grab the toilet paper and start wrapping it around his arms and chest, which goes surprisingly fast. But as I move to his legs, I keep bumping into the cramped sink and tub, metallic thumps echoing through the walls. It’s a testament to my costume’s design that I can move so freely, until suddenly, I can’t. I finish with a bit around his neck and toss what’s left of the roll onto the toilet tank.

This time he poses. "Mummy?"

I stare at what a poor job I've done, yet somehow it makes him look all the more adorable. "Mummy."

I open the door to rejoin the party and find Terry mid-knock in what I think is a magician outfit. "I was starting to worry you two were going to break the sink."

"No, we got that out of our systems before we got here," I say as I push past him so that Kayvon can exit, noting the slightest surprise on Terry's face.

Someone hurries into the bathroom behind us as we three move back toward the kitchen. "Terry, this is Kayvon. He's my date."

I can't decide whose smile I like more, Kayvon's or Terry's. But then Kayvon turns to Terry and extends his hand, and for the briefest moment I panic at the realization that we haven't agreed on what story we should tell about how we met.

The feeling gets so much worse when Terry actually asks, "So how did you two meet?"

Then, as if he's done this a dozen times before, Kayvon says, "Oh, I'm no good at stories; if you want the sordid details you'll have to ask Mary."

I swoon as Terry turns to look at me, his eyebrows shooting so high I worry they’ll dent the ceiling. Kayvon offers to get me a drink, and I nod, and then he’s off, leaving me alone with Terry.