Astoria handled the transaction efficiently: credit card, ID, signature. Her legal name was on the reservation, but it was her risk to take if anyone ever looked hard enough. The desk clerk handed over two key cards with a professional smile and directions to the elevators.
They didn’t speak as they walked. The three feet between them felt charged, a live electric wire neither of them was willing to grab just yet. The elevator doors opened to reveal an empty car. They stepped inside, and Astoria pressed the button for the seventh floor. The doors slid closed.
They stood on opposite sides of the small space watching each other. Miller’s chest rose and fell a little too quickly. Astoria’s hands wanted to fidget to stay occupied, so she clasped them behind her, threading her fingers together tightly.
Fourth floor. Fifth. Then sixth.
“Astoria.” Miller’s voice was barely above a whisper.
She looked over at her, but the elevator doors opened. They stepped out into a quiet hallway with muted carpet and soft lighting. Numbered doors stretched in both directions. Astoria checked the key card sleep. Room 714, to the left.
They walked in silence, the anticipation a physical thing now, pressing against Astoria’s chest and making it hard to breathe deeply. She was aware of Miller beside her and the warmth radiating from her body.
Astoria stopped in front of their room and turned to face Miller. “Last chance. Once we walk through this door…”
“I know.”
“And you’re sure?”
Miller stepped closer. Not touching, not yet, but close enough that Astoria could see the slight dilation of her pupils and the pulse jumping at the base of her throat. “I’ve never been less sure of anything in my life,” Miller admitted. “And I’ve never wanted anything more. Both of these things are true.”
Astoria knew exactly what she meant. She turned and slid the key card into the lock, and the light flashed green. She pushed the door open and stepped aside, letting Miller enter first.
The room was standard for a luxury hotel: king bed, tasteful art, curtains open to the city lights below. It was anonymous and temporary, theirs for now.
Miller walked to the center of the room and turned to face her. Astoria stepped inside and let the door fall closed behind her. The click of the latch was the loudest sound in the world. They stood there, a few feet apart, the weight of everything they were about to do hanging in the air between them.
Then Miller smiled, small and nervous, and said, “Hi again.”
Astoria laughed, surprising herself. “Hi.”
The tension broke, just a little, just enough. She crossed the room to where Miller stood, and this time, she didn’t stop. She reached up and touched Miller’s face, just her fingertips against her cheek, light enough that Miller could still pull away if she wanted to, but she didn’t. Miller’s eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned into the touch like she’d been waiting for it, like she’d been holding her breath for weeks and could finally exhale.
“Hey,” Astoria said softly.
Miller opened her eyes. “What?”
“You’re shaking.”
“I know.” Miller let out a small, unsteady laugh. “I’m nervous. I haven’t—” She stopped, then swallowed. “I’ve never done this before.”
Astoria’s hand stilled on her cheek. “Done what?”
“This. Any of this.” Miller’s gaze dropped, then lifted again, something vulnerable and determined in her expression. “I’ve never been with a woman.”
The admission landed between them. Astoria felt the weight of what Miller was telling her—not just inexperience, but trust.Miller was handing her something fragile and hoping she wouldn't break it.
“We don’t have to—” Astoria started.
“I want to.” Miller’s voice was quiet but certain. “I want this. I wantyou. I just… I just thought you should know.”
Astoria studied her face, looking for doubt or hesitation or any sign that Miller was here out of curiosity rather than genuine desire. She found none, just nerves and want and the same burning that Astoria had been carrying for weeks.
“Okay,” Astoria said. “Then we go slow, and you tell me if anything doesn’t feel right.”
Miller nodded. “Okay.”
“I mean it. If you want to stop?—”
