Darren and I have lived in this town for over a decade. We moved here when he got his first job teaching at the school where he’s now the principal. It wasn’t our ideal kind of city, but it was affordable on his salary alone until I found a job, and soon enough, we settled into a life. And a routine. We have our favorite spots in the city for brunch and fancy dinners with friends. The boys have their favorite parks and arcades in our neighborhood. We’ve settled into a comfortable semi-suburban bubble, where we didn’t need to go to new parts of the city because we’d carved out the contours of our world so neatly. Besides we don’t have the time to explore, anyway.

But over the last decade, the city had been constantly changing around us, and even our favorite spots have become relics as new people and shops and traffic routes move in, the new jeopardizing our familiarity with the old.

Jourdan sees the city differently. When we ask for a place to meet, she always has a list of places so new they don’t even have a website. Or, when we recommend a new place, she’s usually the one to inform us that whatever place we used to love three years ago is long gone. She’s enthusiastically interested in everything, and it’s hard to express how invigorating that’s been for Darren and I. Sometimes, her excitement about a new album or movie she’s seen makes me feel as light as when she’s talking about every sexual thing she wants to do with us.

Me.

When I step into the cute tapas bar that apparently opened three days ago, the energy of this place zips up my spine. The music is loud and pulsing, and even though it’s nowhere near five o’clock, the afterwork crowd is mixing with what looks like a younger, freer student group from the local university. I feel out of place in my business suit and expensive but still sensible heels. I feel like I’m older than my age. Now I understand what Darren was saying after his dates with Jourdan. But he survived that, and I can survive this.

Can’t I?

“The paella won’t kill you,” she whispers against my ear. Her breath is feathery soft; she smells like mint and vanilla. Her arm brushes mine.