“I think this will be fun,” Olivia says, pacing over and kissing you on the lips like she has five or six times in as many minutes. She’s just this side of nervous. If you didn’t know better you’d say she was prowling. “Ever since that time with Gemma, when she was inside you and we were together… God, I haven’t been able to get that out of my mind!”

Olivia is drunk and giggly, hanging arm-in-arm between Amelie on the one side and Erika on the next. Erika’s coldness seems to have melted away as the evening progressed and the three are thick as thieves as they stumble into the lift. Amelie reaches for your hand and pulls you in after them. Your weight sways the box and the others are made to stand so close they brush your belly.

“Olivia likes you,” says Amelie. “Hmm?” You’re both selecting earrings in the same narrow mirror, crouching down to see half-faces. The casual sharing of space feels new and exciting—I’m always far more giving of space, whereas Amelie gives and takes. She spots you looking at her in the mirror and blows you a kiss. “I agree with her taste, of course. But do you like her?” “She looks delicious.” And she does.

So this morning you wake to find me sitting upright in bed, leafing through a copy of Grey’s Anatomy I brought with me last night. You stretch your neck to see what I’m reading. The technical drawings depict humans cleanly broken apart, carefully labelled, bloodless. I smile and wish you good morning, lean down and place a kiss where your black hair is mussed up from where you slept. You half-close your eyes, cat-like, and snuggle closer.