It’s the way her laughter moves through me, skipping a beat on my heart, her voice that’s the loudest when we cheer. Whenever she looks over at me, I feel it, the weight of her dark gaze like a blanket I never want to throw off. I sit taller instead; let her see more of me if she’s going to look. In the dark of the club, with everyone’s attention on the show, I’m brave. There’s nothing casual about us here because there doesn’t have to be. In the dark, I’m not a chef celebrating an opportunity for my newly invested restaurant and she’s not my business partner and majority owner.

Right here, right now, she’s a beautiful girl in glitter.

As a Black queen vogues in a sequin bodysuit, I inch my hand from where I’ve been white-knuckling my own thigh. Before I can think too hard about it I slide my hand under hers on her lap, twining our fingers together.

My rib cage is a butterfly sanctuary, filled with paper-thin nerves as delicate as wings, but as Amy looks at me, my smile is big, and my hands don’t shake or sweat. Her cheeks and mouth shimmer in the glow from the stage, like a target for my lips.

“Are you having a good time?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I lean in closer. “Are you?”

She shrugs. “I was thinking.”

“About?”

“It’s hard to celebrate here.”

I nod. “You’re right. It’s very hard to celebrate here.”

“I can barely hear you,” she says, scooching to the edge of her seat to get closer.

“Maybe we should go somewhere quieter.” I lower my voice.

“You always have great ideas, Hollywood. I should listen to you more often.”

Amy stands as I laugh, shouting something soundless at her brother on the other side of the table. He looks between us and gives her a thumbs-up and then she’s pulling me out of my chair, leading me between tables, before I can do more than wave goodbye to the group. We stop on the stairs, stuck between servers and the mingling coat check and bathroom lines spilling out of the hallway. Amy turns to me, standing on the step so that her already tall frame simply towers over me.

“Where should we go?”

Her hand has never left mine this entire time. We could get a drink somewhere quiet, do a proper cheers, start planning beyond the show, to leverage this opportunity. But with her hand in mine I’m braver still.

“My place.” I swallow. “I have...vodka there.” There’s a good chance I have not a drop of alcohol there.

Amy rubs her thumb over my lips. She pulls at my lower lip and slips her thumb in my mouth. I close my eyes and press my teeth gently into her skin. When I open my eyes, Amy’s gaze burns into me. She pulls her thumb from my mouth but keeps it on my lip, holding my mouth open.

“I’m going to kiss you,” she says, her lips inches from mine. “Is that okay? Because of, you know, boundaries?”