We’d been together every night for the past week. The night before he’d been working so I’d gone home and done some laundry, but it had been too cold and too loud and I’d been much too pathetically grateful when he’d messaged as he was finishing his shift, offered to come over or to pick me up, and I’d suggested I meet him at his place.

This was the first night we’d both had off. He’d promised me dinner—I don’t cook, but I can cut things up—and wine, and I couldn’t remember ever being so happy.

It was perfect.

‘I’ve been told the view is boring.’ He kissed my ear.

I took a breath, ran a hand along his leg. I couldn’t stop touching him. I couldn’t remember ever having touched anyone this much, ever having wanted to. My fingers sought him out constantly. So warm. So everything. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘I don’t know. Maybe we could find a better one.’

The words spun me around, until I was facing him. I wasn’t sure what they meant, but when he kissed me it was different, deeper. I felt it everywhere. Felt so much.

‘Was Lina okay?’ he asked, pulling away, as I tried to catch my breath.

It took me a second. ‘Yeah.’

‘Did you tell her I was sorry for mucking up her dinner plans?’

I looked down at our legs, wound together.

‘She’s fine.’

‘How’s the wedding planning?’ He brushed a curl of hair behind my ear, so gently.

‘Good. She’s taking me to see her final two dresses on Thursday.’

‘She’s down to two?’

‘Yeah, she’s going to race them.’

He laughed. I didn’t want to think about Lina, about the wedding, about how he’d asked if I had to cancel dinner with her and instead of telling him the truth I’d lied and said I did. It made me feel sick, but it was done. Group was done. I hadn’t thought about dying once since that night and I didn’t need it anymore.

His words hung in the air. I couldn’t stop hearing them. Everything felt so big, so real.

A thought slid into my head, an idea. I felt giddy, much too drunk given I’d only had two glasses of wine. ‘You are right, though. About the view.’ I took a breath, hesitated. ‘Maybe after Bali, we could go find another one.’

He looked surprised. ‘Really?’

I shrugged, tried to. My face felt warm. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ I shifted until I was almost on top of him, tilting my face up at his, felt that familiar ache as I looked at him, never wanted to stop looking at him. ‘I know you want to travel. Maybe we can go together.’