“I know they take drugs. They’re often slipping off to the loos on a Friday night. It’s London,” he told me. “They find it more surprising that I don’t.”

“Do you want to tonight?”

He tilted his head and grinned. “I dunno. Do you?”

His eyes were bright, betraying his excitement. We’d spoken about our pasts before, on lazy Friday nights when we were both too exhausted to do anything but get into bed at 9:00 p.m. and share stories about what we used to be like. He knew that I’d been in with a druggy lot at college, but then pulled my shit together at uni. Whereas he said uni was when he got into drugs. Pills mainly. Took them about a dozen times a year—at clubs and music festivals. It was hard to imagine one another like that. We’d met as grown adults. Our wilder sides tucked away in bits of history I thought were unknowable, until...

I turned back to Heather, whose nose was wrinkled, preparing myself for her judgment when I next saw her. She would rinse me later relentlessly. When I was around Heather, I felt strong, stable, knowledgeable, and right...but tonight, laughing with Jessica, remembering the careless fun we used to have I felt...fun, young, engaging.

I leaned over and kissed Ben’s neck.

“Jessica?” I said, in a voice I hadn’t used for quite some time.

“Yep?”

“Rack us up a line too, won’t you?”

Her grin. “I already have.”

Gums were numb. The last line trickled down the back of my throat. Whoa, I’d forgotten.

Laughter. Anecdotes. More laughter. Ben couldn’t stop stroking my arm, turning my limbs to sherbet. Each touch sent electricity through my body. I felt this intense singular pulse between my legs. I picked up his hand and entwined our fingers. I felt so sexy. So proud. What an incredible dinner party. He will want to marry me. He will...

One a.m. A complaint from our neighbors about the music.

“Sorry, so sorry,” I kept saying to an angry mother whose children could not sleep. “We will keep it down.” She stared at my wide black pupils and her lip curled slightly. “Sorry, so sorry.” By 2:00 a.m., another complaint about all the talking, and the party had to end. Blearily everyone ordered Ubers. Thanked us. Thanked Jessica for the cocaine. Said what a lovely evening. Ben and I saw them out. Another neighbor came to tell us off for the noise in the communal hall. Once we’d waved off their cabs, Ben turned to me, a hungry look in his wide eyes, and pushed me against the wall of our building, kissing me deeply, kissing like how we used to kiss when we first met. The drugs made his touch exquisite.

“Jessica’s still upstairs,” I said, savoring the kisses on my cheek, my neck, my shoulders, my chest.