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around here?” I asked, conversationally.
    “Not too far, I’m on the Upper East Side. What about you?”
    “Brooklyn.”
    “Wow. That’s a long ride in.”
    “It’s not that bad,” I said trying to sound cool and easy going. “I’d never be able to afford Manhattan rent anyway.”
    “If it wasn’t for my parents I couldn’t either.”
    “Your parents pay your rent?”
    “No. Well—I guess in a way you could say that. I still live at home with them.”
    Our food arrived. The server put my gyro in front of me and then proceeded to fill the table with plate after plate. There was Greek salad and pita bread, hummus, falafel, shish kebabs. It looked like she’d just unloaded the whole menu on our table.
    “A few things?” I said to Justin after the waitress walked away. “You ordered like the entire menu.”
    “Well, I wanted you to try my favorites. Whatever we don’t finish I’ll bring back to work. Believe me, it will get eaten.”
    I picked up my gyro and bit into it. It was amazing. The warm spiced meat felt like it melted in my mouth.
    “I’m waiting,” Justin said, as I put my sandwich back down on my plate.
    “Waiting for what?”
    “For you to tease me about being twenty-five and still living at home with my parents.”
    “I didn’t know you were twenty-five, but even if I did, I wouldn’t make fun of you. It’s sort of common in my culture to stay at home with your parents, sometimes up until you get married. At least most Croatians are like that. My family is kind of weird, though.”
    “What do you mean by weird?”
    “It’s a long story.” And not one that I wanted to share at the moment.
    One of the best things about going off to college was that I got to leave group home life behind and actually had a good reason to be on my own. When I was in the group home I got tired of being asked why a good girl like me wasn’t living with her parents. It was a part of my life I didn’t like talking about. Who wanted to admit that their own parents didn’t love them enough? If your parents didn’t even care about you, why would anyone else?
    “So if you didn’t think I was twenty-five, how old did you think I was?”
    “I don’t know,” I said between sips of iced tea. “I never really thought about it.”
    “How old are you?”
    “Nineteen.”
    “Nineteen?” He sounded surprised.
    “I’ll be twenty in another three months.”
    “Hmm, you seem older for some reason.”
    “Really? And why’s that?”
    “You just seem so responsible, so mature.”
    “You barely know me.”
    “I’ve seen you with the kids. You’re only a few years older than them, but you’re helping them plan their futures already. That’s not something just any nineteen-year-old can do.”
    “Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of diverse experiences in my life.”
    Justin looked up from his food. “I’d ask you more, but something tells me you’re not going to answer me.”
    “And you would be right, so why don’t we just talk about something else?”
    “Yes. Perfect. Because there was actually something I wanted to discuss with you.”
    “You do?” I asked, worried that somehow I’d done something wrong at work. Technically he wasn’t my boss, but he was my superior.
    “I wanted to ask you about Don.”
    “What about him?” I tried to hide my annoyance at the thought of Don.
    “I get the distinct impression that he’s on the verge of asking you out.”
    “Why?” I asked, trying not to roll my eyes.
    “Because he told me he was.”
    I put the piece of pita bread I had in my hand down. “I’m eating here.” The expression on Justin’s face told me he wasn’t joking. “Oh God. He’s old enough to be my dad.” I was exaggerating a bit, but still.
    “So I take it you’re not interested?”
    “Please don’t tell me you thought I was, because I will be totally insulted.”
    “I was just checking.” Justin smirked. “Some women like older men.”
    “Well, not this woman.