We’re drinking Cosmos at my insistence. He’s been such a good sport this weekend, indulging all my tourist-y wishes and being the perfect guide. I take another sip of my drink and listen intently as he tells me about the time he helped his brother break into the headmaster’s office when they were thirteen so Fielding could steal back the weed that had been confiscated earlier that day.

“Glenn was in on the whole thing. He’s the one who drove us back to school that night for the recon mission.” He smirks before taking another gulp of his vibrantly pink drink. It’s only the second or third time I’ve seen him drink all summer. I like that he feels free enough here to do things he doesn’t let himself do at home.

“When our parents showed up for the meeting the next day, Field and I could barely keep it together. The poor headmaster’s face when he went to pull the weed out of the drawer and couldn’t find it.” Dempsey throws his head back in a fit of laughter, and I can’t help but join in. I seriously love seeing him like this.

“Our mom was so pissed that she’d canceled her luncheon for nothing. I’m pretty sure our father suspected there was more to the story, but he never pushed, and we never told. Glenn didn’t either, obviously. Fielding and I are legends in the hallowed halls of Fletcher Rigby Academy for Boys.”

Our server stops by, and Dem orders us another round, then pulls me closer beside him.

“You look so fucking good tonight, baby girl,” he whispers in my ear as he plays with the fringe along the hem of my dress. “I can’t wait to get you back to the hotel so I can fuck you with this on and feel this fringe tickling my dick.”

I squirm along the booth bench at the idea. “Do we really need another round?” I tease, biting down on my lower lip as I work my hand dangerously high up his pant leg.

“We do,” he retorts as he lifts my hand from his thigh and laces our fingers together. “It’s our last night in the city. I want to make every minute count.”

A figure steps in front of our table, blocking out the glow of Times Square from the floor-to-ceiling windows. I look up to thank our server, only to see a woman standing before us instead.

“Dempsey?”

I watch, perplexed, as Dempsey rises and greets the woman with enthusiastic familiarity. They hug and gush, each one insisting they can’t believe the other is here. I cross my legs and recross them again as the seconds tick by, growing increasingly aware of how comfortable they are with each other as they interact.