And her heart: It thrummed a little faster, as she’d let the sheet fall, and he’d come closer.
Housekeeping arrives half an hour later, when Lili lies panting on the floor, marble slick with sweat, a glow dimming in their bodies. The acoustics of the bathroom ring faintly with her moans, how they rose higher and higher.
“Fuck,” Aleksandr mutters. He lifts his head from her shoulder, breath uneven, leveling out from earlier exertion. “It’s the staff. You take the shower, I’ll deal with this.” He helps draw her to her feet, starting the shower for her.
Hot water rushes over her. She tips her head back, relaxing into it. A loose smile rests in her chest.
Through the steamed glass, she catches Aleksandr’s grin, as he rights his clothes, runs a towel through his hair—and it’s an uneven grin, slight, with youthfulness to it, and he isn’t aware she sees him—before he heads out, into the hall.
There’s something bursting, inside of her.
When she emerges from the shower, flushed skin and wet hair, she hesitates at his open closet door, hearing him inside. She’s not sure if she can wear his shirts again. She grabs her own sweater, discarded on the bedroom floor.
He’s getting dressed when she walks in. He smiles when he sees her.
“What are your plans tonight?” he asks, doing up his fresh shirt.
“Dinner,” she says, hopping onto the island. “My friends are cooking at Jamie’s place.”
“School starts soon?”
“Next week,” she replies. Aleksandr nods, shrugging on a suit jacket—dark, simple cut, one of dozens. “How about you?” she asks, light with nervousness. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I’m seeing Sanaë. I should speak to her, settle things.”
“Ah.” Lili flushes, glancing at the ground. “Right, that—yes, that makes sense.” Anxiety twists in her stomach: the concern that he’ll change his mind, that once she leaves the loft, her luck will run out.
Aleksandr grasps her face, gently. He tilts her chin up to look at him.
“And then, we’ll talk,” he says. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll talk. You and me.”
“Okay,” she says, soft.
Okay.
It’s early evening when she gets into the Village. Brownstones, vivid green trees, people walking dogs, parents pushing strollers with toddlers, kids heading towards bars on Bleecker; it’s Friday. As she rounds onto Perry, she can hear her friends through the cracked-open windows, music drifting from the kitchen at the back of the town house. Jamie’s car is parked out front, several parking tickets tucked under the windshield wiper.
The front door is unlocked, and she lets herself in. Lili kicks off her shoes in the foyer—the various shoes of her friends clutter the runner rug, Jamie’s cleats abandoned in the hall, and his mail is piled up. She hears conversation and Guèbrou, the sizzle of food, the glug of wine. Lili pads down the hall, letting her hand run over the wallpaper, towards the sound of her friends.
“Just accept that you’ve burnt it,” Amina says, swirling dregs of rosé.
“It’s not burnt, it’s caramelized,” James retorts from the stove, glaring over his shoulder. Chopping chives, Jackie looks like she’s trying not to laugh.
“I’m turning off the smoke detectors,” Amina mutters, standing from the kitchen island.
Lili laughs, in the doorway; Jackie looks fast towards the hall first, the realization of recognition—the moment her friends clock that it is her, that she is here, that she is smiling, and there is some light in her gaze—it all soars, like she’s taken flight, an uproar of warmth: the broad grin across Jackie’s face, Amina’s shout of “Lili!” as she flings her arms around her, kitchen knife clattering to the counter as Jackie abandons the chives, Jamie’s hoot of welcome, and the scent of Amina’s perfume, as she hugs Lili, and the crinkle of Jackie’s eyes as she smiles, and James throws a warm arm around her shoulders, “I haven’t seen you inages, Marwan—” and Lili grins back, welcoming everything.
“Do you want wine?” James asks, already pouring her a glass of rosé. “Or Aperol? Jackie, where the fuck’s the Aperol—”
“This is great, thanks—hi, love,” Lili laughs, as Jackie pulls her into a tight hug.
“How’d it go?” she asks. Amina rests her chin on Jackie’s shoulder, both of them looking at Lili eagerly.
“Good.” She nods, a bit fragile. “I think it—I think it went really well. We’re going to talk again tomorrow, but... I think it’s going to be okay.”
Jackie squeezes her arm, delighted. “What’d you say?” she asks. “What did he say—”
The fire alarm goes off, a loud intrusive beep.
