I had to sing the dumb “turn around” parts, and my voice cracked on the third or tenth one in—the first one that was followed by “bright eyes,” because who can actually hit that pitch? No one, that’s who. And Lily—put together, karaoke goddess Lily—actually giggled into the mic at me as she tried to get through the first “every now and then I fall apart,” and it was so cute that I discovered I wasn’t even embarrassed. Or maybe I was just drunk. Either way, it all felt worth it, the very probable humiliation, to be right next to Lily on that dance floor as she sang about powder kegs giving up sparks and really needing me tonight. Or, no, not me, per se. Forever was gonna start tonight for someone. But I had given myself over to this thing now, and would volunteer as tribute if she asked.

And the thing about duets was that sometimes only singing your lines alone was actually...kind of boring, but you didn’t know if it was a faux pas or not to join in on the other person’s lines. But toward the end of the song Lily was waving her arms at me in a ‘come on’ kind of gesture, so that we were both screaming all of those completely over-the-top lyrics together. And it was funny because I’d only ever been up here with a microphone in my hand next to my friends who had known me for decades; had always thought I would only be comfortable doing such a ridiculous thing with them at my side. But I had known Lily for all of a few hours, and somehow it felt the same.

When it was done, the tinkle of the piano accompanying the last “turn around, bright eyes” fading away into the night, that Embarrassing Post-Singing High Lily had mentioned earlier hit me full force. I still wasn’t embarrassed, exactly, but I didn’t want to break the spell. Didn’t want to go back to Lily’s table right now and have all of her friends smirk at us.

I put a hand on her elbow as we handed back our mics. “Drink?” I motioned with my head toward the bar. She nodded.

The actual number of gin and tonics both Lily and I had consumed had grown muddled. I only knew there kept being clear, refreshing drinks on the table garnished with likely completely unsanitary limes, and we kept drinking them. I could also tell, from the woozy way my head felt, especially after singing Bonnie Tyler, and from the way that literally every single thing that was happening seemed perfect and beautiful, that I was approaching my limit.