“Do you often look me up?” I ask innocently, locking my gaze onto hers. “Or is it only in the night?”

Danni finally recovers enough to reply properly, though she’s still a very interesting shade of mauve. “I’m pretty sure it was just one of the news stories that day. You know, the ones that bitch about how you … um, how you…”

At least this time she catches the words before they leave her mouth. She looks at Molly, stricken.

“I know the ones,” I say gently.

Molly keeps her focus on her social media video, tactfully pretending she was so enraptured by the task she didn’t even hear the subject drift dangerously close to that night in Amsterdam. And Eleanor, ever the peacekeeper, jumps in just before the silence grows too loud.

“Danni, you perform and shit, right?” she says. “Like Rose said?”

“Uh, I play piano. I wouldn’t say I perform it.”

“Close enough. Would you go over my lines with me, please?”

In order to allow them space to practice, I have to shift from the floor to the bed, sitting on the still-warm spot left behind by Danni. From this position, I can see the television. Thorns of Berry and Briar is still playing. It’s a scene I remember well, in fact. King Aelorin is in the throes of passion in the wine cellar with his king’s knight, Aric. More specifically, they’re in an advanced state of undress, using a wine barrel in a very creative manner.

The first time I saw this episode was also in Eleanor’s room, back in third year. Eleanor, Molly, and I had crammed ourselves onto Eleanor’s tiny bed to watch the latest episode as it came out. As the other two made exclamations of surprise—and, if we’re honest, discomfort—at the very unexpected, very queer, turn of events—I was riveted. The idea of a secret affair, hidden within the confines of a wine cellar, intrigued me.

Until then, I had all but resigned myself to the idea that my future was going to look nothing like I’d imagined as a child. At fourteen years old, I had reached the conclusion that I was not, and could not be, romantically interested in boys. Not the way I was with girls. Back then, it seemed as though I fell madly in love with a new girl in class every few months. They would shoot me a special smile, or their hair would catch the light just so, or they’d give an especially witty answer to a question in class, and I would be done for. Not once had it ever happened like that with a boy. Not once.