Next morning, Ava had to book it out early to make it back home for work. That’s when Gemma learned she lived out here. You’re fuckin’ kidding me! she hooted. That’s where I grew up! That’s my hometown! That is some janky shit. Ava blushed and put on her clothes. At Gemma’s front door, they kissed and kissed. Then Ava’s face lit like a flame and she said, Let’s do this again sometime. Then she left, and Gemma sat on the couch and the brain-pee deluge of dopamine drained away and regular life stepped back in front of her, a faceless shape in the doorway.

“You’re nice,” Gemma says now. “Thank you.”

Gemma puts her arm around the taller girl’s body. Ava’d had ravaging acne as a teenager, and her back and shoulders are moon-gnarled with scars. There’s something gorgeous and unfragile to how it makes Ava look, but Gemma keeps this thought to herself. “You’re so warm.”

“I’m always warm; I hate the heat.”

“Oh no,” Gemma clucks. “Don’t tell me you thought it was hot today.”

“I haven’t been outside. My hands are always cold, though.” Ava puts a palm on Gemma’s cheek and she flinches. “See?”

“Damn.”

“Bodies.”

“Shit, speaking of bodies.” Gemma picks up her phone. “I got blood work done the other day. Haven’t had that in a dog’s age.”

“Ugh,” says Ava. “I have it every six months, but there’s no good reason.”

“Well, apparently, I’m every six years. Let’s see who lives longer.”

“I’m serious! ’Less you have a condition to watch for. Do you?”

“No.”

“Right!” says Ava. “It’s only so they can, like, run up bills and feel like they have control when they don’t have any more fucking clue what hormones do than we do! Hey?”

Gemma lowers her phone, bemused. “Well, colour me fooled, aren’t you the angry little radical tran?”

“I’m getting my baeddel tattoo tomorrow.”

“Ha!”

“Find out if you’re dying yet?”

“The app hasn’t updated.” Gemma puts her phone away. “My blood’s on an app. The future’s fucked up.”

Ava shifts her legs and the sound of her skirt puts electricity in Gemma’s clit. “Do you have anything else?” Gemma nods to the empty bottle.

“Tequila. You’re welcome to it,” Ava says earnestly.

“Thanks. I kinda want beer, though.” Gemma says, almost to herself. “There’s a vendor at Trav’s.”

I think I’m comfortable with you, Gemma realizes. The easy feeling she has right now. It’s exactly how Gemma remembered. She doesn’t have to trust it to enjoy it. She realizes that in these last three months since they met, she’s carried the memory of this feeling around with her, like a necklace beneath her skin. I’m so comfortable with you.

“I’d have a beer.” Ava holds out her fob. “Mind going alone?” Gemma slings up her bag.

Gemma crosses South Railway in the misty rain, up and over the tracks.