“We found a plow.” Liza’s eyes flew open. A blast of freezing air cracked through the warm cocoon she and Dorsey had made. Jennifer’s cool face was mere inches above her. The night’s events came rushing back to her. Her cushion was also shaking himself awake. Shit. Liza scrambled to untangle her arms and legs. What in the spooning hell was going on here? Had she slept on his chest? Like a bland after-sex scene in a sitcom? Ugh, girl. And where had his hands landed? She found them cupping the rise of her hips.

The hatch door only opened so far. No one could see his hands, and she was so cold. Surely there was no rush to move them.

Jennifer’s eyes cut like a scalpel. “You’ve missed half the day.” She looked immaculate with her deep red lipstick, perfectly powdered face, not a strand of hair out of place, clothing meticulous. This was how a woman went into battle. Liza wanted to tell her she had wasted her war paint. She didn’t feel sorry for Jennifer exactly. She had not known Dorsey long, but she knew he had the power to make people feel like that, like they weren’t worthy of him. Jennifer was just his latest victim.

Liza patted her own silk scarf and wiped the crust from her eyes.

Dorsey raised himself up. “What time is it?”

Lord. Have. Mercy. How dare he wake up this sexy? His hair was tousled. His voice was low and tired, and the sound rumbled pleasantly in her chest. Warmth unfolded in the seat of her belly. Really, vagina—turning on me too? You’re as bad as Janae. There had been a moment last night with her legs spread over him that Liza thought she might have . . . She didn’t want to think of what she might have done. What did it matter now, here in the blinding light of day? She tucked her hands into her lap. It was not lost on her that their legs were still touching. Neither one of them had snatched their legs apart the way one does in the light of day.

“It’s eleven thirty-six,” Jennifer said with a flash of impatience.

Dorsey’s eyes rounded. “I haven’t slept past ten since college.” He rubbed his chin, and Liza looked away, afraid to be caught staring. There was something strange about seeing him in the morning before he’d put himself together. She should get up before she embarrassed herself, stealing swoony glances like a tween girl.

Liza pulled herself out of the pod and made her way to the bathroom. The normally weak winter sun had gotten a reflective boost from the snow and now shone brightly through the window blinds, streaking in alabaster light on the eighth floor. She checked her phone and saw that her mother had called no less than thirteen times.