Exactly no one.

– Just let me in and show me the problem.

– Think you can fix it, do you?

I shook my head.

– No, probably not. But its cold out here. And I came all this way.

She showed me half her smile, the other half hidden behind the door.

– And youre still clinging to some hope that a girl asking you to come clean something is some kind of booty call code, right?

I rubbed the top of my head. But I didnt say anything. Not feeling like saying no and lying to her so early in our relationship. There would be time for that kind of thing later. Theres always time for lying.

She inhaled, let it out slow.

– OK.

The door closed. I heard the chain unhook. The door opened and I walked in, my feet crunching on something hard.

– This the asshole?

I looked at the young dude standing at the bathroom door with a meticulously crafted fauxhawk. I looked at bleached teeth and handcrafted tan. I looked at the bloodstains on his designer-distressed jeans and his artfully faded reproduction Rolling Stones concert T from a show that took place well before he was conceived. Then I looked at much larger bloodstains on the sheets of the queen-size bed and the flecks of blood spattered on the wall. I looked at the floor to see what Id crushed underfoot, half expecting cockroaches, and found dozens of scattered almonds instead. I listened as the door closed behind me and locked. I watched as Soledad walked toward the bathroom and the dude snagged her by the hand before she could go in.

– I asked, Is this the asshole?

I pointed at myself.

– Honestly, in most circumstances, in any given room on any given day Id say, Yeah, Im the asshole here. But in this particular scenario, and I know we just met and all, but in this room here?