“Crap,” Valencia mutters to herself. “Crap, crap, crap.”

She vaguely remembers something about him moving to El Segundo with his annoyingly cheerful friend Hector, so it just figures that the one day she needs to be in this town, they’d run into each other.

“What can I get for you?” the barista with pink streaks in her hair—Valencia wonders idly if it’s an accident that she matches the rest of the café or a marketing technique—asks her when she steps up to the counter, looking like she’s had a more engaging time watching paint dry.

“A small chai latte with soy,” Valencia says, sparing a glance back at Josh.

It looks like he might be on a date with a girl. So maybe the universe hasn’t completely turned on her. Josh’s attention doesn’t stray during the first few dates.

“Can I get a name for the order?”

“Um,” Valencia hesitates.

The barista—her name tag reads Heather—suddenly looks more interested. “What? You don’t know your name?”

Valencia raises her eyebrows.

“Is it, like, boating-accident–related amnesia? You look like you know how to boat. Or at the very least, like you own boating shoes.”

“Are you a corporate spy?” the other girl behind the counter asks. “Or maybe you’re from the health department.”

Valencia gapes at the two of them. “What?”

“Don’t even try to pull one over on us,” the other girl—Rebecca, Valencia strains to read her uneven handwriting—says. “I’ve memorized the codes.”

“My ex-boyfriend is here,” Valencia says honestly just to get the guessing game to stop.

“So that’s a no to the spying, but we’re definitely in a codename situation here,” Heather says, writing something on the cup. “I got you, girl.”

She passes it to Rebecca, who snorts. “I’d say this is more pet name than codename.”

Valencia starts to move down the line, taking great care not to reveal her face to Josh, but she still hears Heather’s response.

“Well it’s your fault for playing the first act of Rent on repeat this morning.”

She feels herself smile despite not knowing much more than the fact that Rent is a musical, and then starts to mentally go over her pitch again.

Heather’s voice breaks into her rehearsal just a minute later. “I’ve got a soy chai latte for Pookie.”

Valencia feels herself blush as she steps up to the counter to grab her drink. “Very covert.”

“Don’t forget to leave a Yelp review about your excellent service,” Heather says with mock cheeriness.

Valencia rolls her eyes but makes a mental note to do just that.

When she reaches the door, she hears Heather calling, “Have a nice day, Pookie!” after her.

Heather jumps, snatching her hand away and rolling onto her back at the same time Valencia growls.

“Actually—” Heather starts to say.

“I just got back from a session with Dr. Akopian,” Rebecca goes on as if Heather hadn’t spoken. She walks around the bed and slides under the covers, forcing Heather to crowd closer to Valencia, who’s shooting Rebecca narrow-eyed daggers. “She thinks I should address my boundary issues with all my friends, but that’s ridiculous, right guys? You love my impromptu snuggle sessions and my Sharing is Caring policy on borrowing, don’t you?”

Rebecca blinks at them with her blue eyes wide and pleading.

“We could have been naked under here, you realize that, right?” Heather asks.

Rebecca waves that away. “I don’t care.”

“Um, I care,” Valencia says. “And I’ve sat through your little consent lectures too many times not to point out the hypocrisy.”

“You always walk away in the middle of those,” Rebecca says with a pout.

“Fine, I’ve half-sat through too many of your little consent lectures. Happy?”

“Thank you,” Rebecca says, nestling further under the covers.

Heather stares at her, nostrils flared, until Rebecca notices.

“What?” she asks.

“Girl, get the hell out of my bed,” Heather says, planting her foot against Rebecca’s thigh and pushing.

Rebecca, clearly caught off guard, doesn’t have time to find leverage. So she falls into a heap on the floor.

“So that’s a no on the boundary issues though, right?”

“Oh, my god, get out,” Heather says, throwing a pillow in Rebecca’s face so she won’t see that she’s laughing.

“I just want to be able to tell Dr. Akopian I did my homework,” Rebecca says, getting to her feet and tossing the pillow back on the bed. “So…we’re good?”

“No,” Valencia says.

Noticing Rebecca’s frown, Heather adds, “We’ll come out in a minute to talk for real, but first you have to leave.”

Rebecca flashes them the world’s most melancholy thumbs up before leaving the room.

Heather deflates, her head landing on Valencia’s stomach. “Guess the moment’s kinda ruined, huh?”

“Um, yeah,” Valencia says in her signature duh tone.

“Bummer.”

Valencia eases herself out from under Heather and starts to tug on her pants. “That’s what you get for being such a tease.”

“Oh, right, like you would have preferred it if Rebecca had walked in on us with my fingers inside you.”

Valencia actually pauses, considering.

Heather rolls her eyes. “Why is it that I love the stubborn ones?”

“Are you saying you love me?” Rebecca’s voice floats into the room from just outside the closed door.

“Rebecca!” Valencia screeches, stomping for the door.

Heather listens as something thuds against the wall and then a sharp smack echoes through the house.

But Rebecca doesn’t even look up from her own laptop when she asks, “What’s up? Something wrong?”

Still looking quizzically at Valencia, Heather says, “Just some confusingly worded instructions. No big.”

Rebecca grunts her sympathy at the same time Valencia flashes Heather a coy grin. Then her eyes trail back down to the magazine she’s been flipping through.

Heather jerks her head back in an ‘okaaaaay sure’ kind of gesture and refocuses.

Seconds later, Valencia kicks her.

Her foot catches Heather’s ankle at just the wrong angle, and Heather lets out an involuntary little oof.

Both she and Valencia sneak covert glances at Rebecca, who’s reading over the brief she’s working on, mouthing the words to herself and totally in the zone.

Since they’re in the clear, Heather uses the opportunity to kick out at Valencia this time, catching her in the bare shin with the heel of her shoe.

“Ow,” Valencia says, flashing wounded eyes at Heather, who shrugs, only kind of apologetic.

Rebecca’s head snaps up. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Just over-sympathetic to these hair-removal horror stories,” Valencia says, gesturing to her magazine.

Rebecca clucks her tongue. “I keep telling you, a simple trim every now and again is perfectly—”

“Oh-kay,” Heather cuts in. “We already know enough about your grooming habits, believe me.”

Rebecca sticks out her tongue. “Well excuse me for trying to save you from the insidious grasp of the patriarchy.”

“You’re excused,” Valencia tells her.

Heather smirks down at her keyboard.

Her eyes are still averted when she feels Valencia’s foot very carefully hook around her ankle. In response, Heather rubs her ankle against Valencia’s.

When she looks up at Valencia from under her eyelashes, she sees a grin forming on her lips.

“Ah,” Rebecca says, picking up her phone and reading a text. “Looks like it’s time to meet Paula to work on the Josh lawsuit.”

“Good luck,” Heather says, keeping her eyes trained on her computer’s screen.

“Have fun,” Valencia says.

“Enjoy your footsie,” Rebecca says as she packs up.

Heather and Valencia disentangle from each other instantly, using so much force that Heather nearly rocks herself out of her chair.

“Yeah,” Rebecca says, raising her eyebrows at them. “You guys are not subtle.”

“Whatever,” Valencia says, rolling her eyes.

“Plus, I went to Harvard. I’m smarter than this and I’m a little hurt that you think I’m not.”

“Oh, my god,” Heather says, “Just leave.”

With an offensive hand gesture, she does as she’s told. But when she reaches the door, Rebecca pauses to blow them both a kiss.

Valencia makes a little coughing noise on the other end of the line. “I don’t know. I just got home.”

“All safe and sound?” Heather asks.

“Yup. No bathroom ceilings fell on me the whole trip.”

“Imagine that,” Heather says with a huff of a laugh.

“So, I wanted to thank you.”

“Me?” Heather asks, tugging her comforter up over her face and then curling up on her side, pressing her phone between her cheek and her pillow. “Why?”

“I had a great time tonight,” Valencia says, her voice soft. Heather closes her eyes.

“You did?” she asks, deadpan but just as softly.

Valencia laughs, and Heather draws in a deep breath. “As unlikely as it sounds, yeah. I really, really love hanging out with you guys.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Heather says, and she thinks she catches Valencia exhaling in relief.

“Okay, well. Good.”

“Mm-hmm.”

A beat.

“Are you in bed?”

“Yeah,” Heather says over a stifled yawn.

“Me too,” Valencia says.

“Well, goodnight,” Heather says, feeling her cheeks flush for some reason.

“Goodnight,” Valencia says. Then, just when Heather’s about to pull her phone away from her ear and hang up, she adds, “Hey, wait.”

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Would you maybe want to get coffee tomorrow morning? Do some yoga?”

“Sure,” Heather agrees easily. “What time? And keep in mind, it might take me a full hour to get Rebecca out of bed.”

“Yeah,” Valencia says, her voice quavering ever-so-slightly. “That’s why I thought it could be, y’know, just us. ‘Cause it’d be easier for everyone.”

Heather takes a second before answering, suddenly filled with far too much squirmy energy for bedtime.

“Cool,” she says finally. “When should I meet you?”

“Is six-thirty too early?”

“No, I’ll set my alarm now.”

“Okay.”

“Cool,” Heather says again.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then,” Valencia says, and Heather can hear the smile in her voice. She flexes her toes and stretches her legs. It does little to mitigate her swell of restlessness.

“You will,” Heather says. “Sweet dreams.”

“You too,” Valencia says, and then hangs up.

After sitting sill for a moment, Heather sets an alarm and then plugs her phone into its charger.

“I think they made my gums bigger.”

“No,” Valencia says, “that’s just the gauze.”

“Oh,” Heather says, and then she reaches up to take it out.

Valencia grabs both of her wrists. “You can’t!”

Heather’s eyes go wide. “Because it’s actually just my gums?”

“No.” Valencia takes a deep breath in through her nose, not sure if she wants to laugh or berate herself for agreeing to babysit post-op Heather in the first place. But then she looks into Heather’s warm brown eyes and remembers why she let herself be roped into this. “The doctor told me to leave it in.”

“How do we know we can trust him?” Heather asks.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be talking this much. Doesn’t your jaw hurt?”

“Oh, I can’t feel anything.”

“Perfect.”

“Does your jaw hurt?”

“I didn’t have surgery,” Valencia says, letting her head fall against the back of the couch.

“Yeah, but you’re clenching it a lot.”

A snort of laughter escapes Valencia before she can stop it. “That’s true.”

“It’s okay, you look hot even when you’re angry,” Heather says matter-of-factly. “Maybe even especially then.”

Valencia lifts her head. “You think I’m hot?”

“Hot and cold. Sweet and sour. You’re soup.”

“Okay,” Valencia says. “No more painkiller metaphors for you. They’re just wrong.”

“But also right,” Heather says, her head lolling to the side so her hair brushes Valencia’s cheek.

Valencia feels her whole body flush. “How about I put on a movie for you to watch, ‘kay?”

“Are you gonna stay and watch it, too?”

“I kind of have to,” Valencia says. “You’re currently a danger to yourself.”

Heather nods somberly. “Humans weren’t meant to have enhanced gums. We’re not ready for that kind of power.”

Valencia rolls her eyes heavenward. “Oh, my god.”

Heather pokes her in the shoulder. “You know I’m right.”

The wail of the wind becomes desperate, and Valencia arches in response, coaxed into convexity by the agony of want. Heather shifts with her, performing her own homage to insatiable desire. She’s dripping with it, dripping down from the apex of Valencia’s thighs—body long and languid and unraveling—out into the dark void of everything that exists outside of the bed.

Does anything exist outside of this bed?

Fear slashes through Valencia. It’s like she’s stepped outside in the middle of winter and sucked in a cold, cold breath; it stings her lungs and clouds her throat until it feels like there’s a solid object stuck there.

Heather, always her perfect counterweight, always bringing balance to Valencia’s universe, slithers her way back up Valencia, drags herself back into the firm reality of everything on this bed. Outside, the wind kicks up, violently thrashing against stillness.

“You’re not looking in the right place,” Heather whispers in her ear, and Valencia can’t account for the thrill that goes through her, the foreboding pleasure she feels unfurl low in her stomach.

She tries to open her eyes, tries to take Heather’s advice to heart, but it seems her eyes are already open and there’s nothing to see but pitch dark.

Valencia’s spooked, shaking hands grope at her wrinkled sheets and at her own chest and at Heather’s shoulder blades until she finds what she’s really searching for. She feels Heather’s jaw move when she cups her face, feels the soft waves of sound disturb the air around them, but she doesn’t hear anything at all.

Heather, I’m trying, Valencia tries to say, but her voice is muted and watery like she’s talking to herself at the very bottom of a deep pool. Her finicky fingers flex around Heather’s fine-boned face and something gives.

The winds roar so loud, Valencia trembles.

Unsure what else there is to do, she pulls Heather up over her like a threadbare quilt and goes about mapping what’s left of her with lips and teeth and tongue.

The more she tries to consume, the emptier she feels until there’s nothing left of her lover at all and the emptiness thickens into desolation.

The emotion is too heady to survive in her subconscious, and Valencia springs upright in bed as soon as she’s released from the dream.

Outside, the wind howls.