“Plus,” Sam murmured into my temple, “You weren’t very quiet at my apartment, either.”

I flushed.

“That was different, too,” I said, weakly.

“Mm.” They kissed my forehead. “Either way, I find it very hard to believe that you will disappoint me. Show me your quiet parts, Lily. You have no idea how much I would like to be maybe-a-little-boring together.”

They kissed my nose. It was sweet, and tender.

But at that moment, I did not feel like being very tender at all.

Lily leaned her head back to look at me. I thought—I hoped—I saw something like possibility there in those brown eyes. Something like trust. Something like want.

And then she reached up and kissed me with a ferocity that made my head spin.

Her arms were suddenly around me, clawing at my back, and I stumbled half a step, until my butt was fully pushed back against the desk.

Just like last time, as soon as her lips were against mine, our bodies aligned, it was like we just...fit. Like our bodies were meant to be together: my softness next to hers; her strength bleeding into me. And within minutes, my entire system buzzed with need.

Although it was possible I’d been buzzing with need ever since she walked in the door, considering she looked so ridiculously fantastic. Her hair was down today, and she was wearing a leggings-skirt combo too, although her skirt was long and pale and floofy and made of...what was that fabric? Tulle? Almost opaque but not quite, a little magical, like fairies had concocted it in an enchanted forest. It was offset by a faded Sinead O’Connor t-shirt, tight against her chest, and a thick cardigan sweater. A cozy infinity scarf wrapped around her neck. A perfect picture: Lily in the Fall. I wanted to cuddle her to death.

Except when she first walked in, I told myself I didn’t. Because I had spent the last week and a half convincing myself this was over, that all of this was over: Lily and everything she represented. I had gathered all my strength, and decided to not virtually stalk every veterinary clinic in the metropolitan area. I had caught up on all my grading, instead. Apparently taught the shit out of the Dawes Act. Smiled extra hard at my barista. Told myself I was fine.

And I was. I would be. Because I would always have my friends. Claire would take care of me when I was old and fragile. We’d already promised each other, years ago. And if Claire died first, I was sure Kort would take care of me, albeit more grudgingly. Or if all else failed, Harry. I’d make sure he knew his responsibilities, once he was old enough to talk. In any case, I didn’t need...need.