The man was looking like he didn’t know where to look. Trapped between panicked and amused and not sure if he could believe his own good luck. I could almost see the wheels spinning in his head, the mental calculations of how many of us, and where, and when, and whose legs pressed against his face, his waist, his hips . . .

“My friend is a little clumsy,” I said, and his attention bounced back to me, a tennis match between women. His previously bored date sure looked interested now. You could almost call us matchmakers, Lou and me. “You should make her buy you both a round to make up for it. First dates aren’t cheap.”

“It’s not a—” The woman started but then cleared her throat and stared daggers at the two of us. “How did you know it was our first date?”

I shrugged and winked. “A lucky guess. I’m good at reading bodies.” I hid a chuckle in a cough. “Body language, I mean.”

And then he was stuck, volleying between the three of us, taking an extralong glance at the forty-five-degree angle I’d given him down my top. Lou had a little smile on her face and she was shaking her head at me: You amateur. But it was working. He took a look at his date, who’d stepped closer to him, and then at Lou absentmindedly stroking the material of his tie like she wasn’t even trying to do it.

“No need,” he said. “Why don’t you two join us. What can I get you?”

We would stay for two drinks slipped onto his tab, just long enough for the bartender to get comfortable putting our beverages under his name. By that time, he’d be slurring and she’d be as possessive as if she actually liked him. And because we’d picked a couple on a date, there was little risk he’d demand repayment, monetary or otherwise.

The date excused herself to go to the restroom, and her absence emboldened him. He leaned into Lou, shrugging his weight onto her shoulders and draping a hand across her knee. Without losing a beat, Lou clutched my chin, her fingers drink-chilled, drawing me in for a kiss. It wasn’t a regular part of our routine, and I could feel my heart skid as her nails scraped lightly against my jaw. Her lips were soft like lips and her tongue slid in between my teeth. She was selling it more than I was. I kept my hands to myself and my eyes closed and tried not to think of anything. After a few moments, she uncorked her mouth from mine with a pleasant little pop, and smiled at the man, who was watching the two of us, slack-jawed.