We walked through the hotel lobby to the elevator. We stood separately, not touching, while we waited for the elevator to arrive. There was an old businessman waiting, too. He was picking at his teeth with a toothpick. When the elevator arrived we all stepped on together.

Cosima and I leaned against the back of the elevator, and the businessman stood at the front. We stared at his back as he adjusted the waistband of his pants. Every now and then he would glance at us in the reflective metal doors.

Cosima brushed her pinky against mine. That, the tiniest of touches, gave me goosebumps. I know she did it on purpose. I know she saw me shiver, because I saw her smile out of the corner of my eye. Then she hid her face. She was laughing at me.

The man got off at the fifth floor, and I took that chance to hit Cosima's arm.

"You're such a tease!" I said to her.

We got off on the next floor. Cosima followed me to my room, and I felt her eyes on my back all the way down the hall. I was so nervous, I was sure that my entire body was red, especially, the back of my neck and the backs of my ears, because those two places were on fire.

I stood at the door with the card key in my hand. She was standing right behind me. I could hear her breathing.

Calm down, I thought. We are just having a smoke. Nothing else.

We entered the room. It smelled like a hotel room, equal parts stale air and sterilized sheets.

There was my bed. There was my shopping bag. There were my clothes from the afternoon. It was all that I had at the moment.

I gathered up the clothes and tossed them in the shopping bag. Then I set my bag down on the dresser.

"Nice place," Cosima said.

"Yeah," I said. "It was a last minute decision."

Cosima didn't really respond, she just kind of grunted a half-interested grunt, like, hmph.

"So," I said. "Are you thirsty? Or hungry? Or shall we have more drinks? Maybe tea?"

"I'm fine," Cosima said.

She walked over to the balcony.

"Wow!" she said. "You have a killer view!"

She pulled back the curtains and opened the door. She was right. We could see the Golden Gate Bridge from where we stood. We stepped out onto the balcony.

"This place must be wicked expensive!" she said.

"Oh, God, I don't want to think about it," I said. "If I do, I might have a heart attack."

"Fair enough," she said.

"Are you sure you don't want something to drink?"

"Maybe, water," she said. "But mostly, I want this."

She reached into her bra and pulled out a joint. She rolled it between her fingers and smiled at me. Then she turned her head sideways, as if asking me a question. But I was still trying to work out the mysterious physics of her bra capacity.

What else could she possibly have in there? I thought.

And then I thought, That joint has been next to her body all night.

"Delphine?" she said.

"Oui?" I said.

"Do you want to smoke this or not?"

"Oh, yes, sure," I said. "But I'm warning you, I've never smoked before. This could end badly. I mean, I've read about the possible side-effects of cannabis. I know that it can have hallucinogenic or psychedelic effects in some people."

"Oh god," Cosima said. "You sound like an afterschool special."

"Don't laugh at me. I don't know," I said. "That's just what I heard. All of my friends have smoked pot before. I just never thought about it."

"So," Cosima said. "I guess that makes two new things for you to consider tonight."

"Yeah," I said. "I guess so."

"Do you trust me?" she said. She took a step closer to me.

"Oui," I said.

"I promise the worst that could happen is you get a little paranoid, we order room service, eat it off, and then pass out."

"Well," I said. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"And the best that can happen," she continued, "is that we have a great time."

"I see," I said.

She put the joint to her lips. "Do you have a lighter?" she asked.

She tried hard to convince me to smoke that joint, but she didn't really have to. Somehow, when I saw it in her mouth, and when I remembered that she had pulled it out of her bra only moments before, I already knew I would smoke it. I already knew that I wanted to.

She took the first hit. Then she passed it to me.

"Okay," I said. "But only a little bit."

The only thing I can remember is the smell and the taste, which were so different from cigarettes, but the rest of it was the same. No big deal. I passed it back to her.

She took a deep breath and then exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"It's such a beautiful night," she said.

"Yes," I said. "I can't even believe I'm here. In San Francisco! In America!"

"So it's your first time?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "But I've always dreamed of coming to the States."

"And you came here with Josh?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "I came home with him to visit his family. But I didn't know that that was all we were going to do."

"Well," she said as she took another hit, "he seemed like a real nice guy."

"No, no," I said. "He was fine, and his family was fine. I mean, he was just a little self-involved."

"You think?" Cosima said.

"Okay, okay," I said. "He was a jerk."

"Yeah," Cosima said. "Kind of a total jerk."

"He was a jerk!" I shouted. My voice echoed off the ground, and came back to me from many angles.

"Go ahead," she said. "Let it out."

"He was a fucking asshole!" I shouted out into the night. "Pretentious! Conceited! Asshole! And..."

I couldn't think of the word. I looked at Cosima. She was clearly enjoying my outburst.

"What do you call a man who has an unhealthy relationship with his mother?" I asked.

"A mama's boy?" she said.

"Oui! Oui!" I said. Then I turned back toward the open air. "Fuckin' mama's boy!"

She laughed at me, and then I laughed at myself.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. I took the joint from her and looked at it closely. The paper was burning brightly at the edge. "This stuff is pretty good," I said.

"You're telling me," she said. "You know a lot of swear words."

"Yes," I said. "I studied English in school, but I learned the most useful things from TV and movies."

"Ah-ha!" she said. "Okay, teach me some French swear words."

"I can't!" I said.

"Why not?" she said.

"Well, alright," I said. "But only two."

"Fine," she said. She was looking at me expectantly.

"Well, there is merde," I said.

"Merde!" she shouted. She turned her face out toward the night and shouted it again.

"Merde!"

I had to laugh at her.

"Okay," she said. "What does that mean?"

"That means 'shit'," I said.

"Merde!" she shouted again. "How's my pronunciation?"

"Very good!" I said. I couldn't stop laughing.

"And what's the other one?" she said.

"I will tell you," I said, "But it's very rude, so please don't ever say it in front of other French people."

"I don't know any other French people."

"Well, in case you go to France one day, you never know," I said.

"Alright, alright. I promise."

"Okay..."

I was about to say the word, but somehow, I couldn't. I felt giggles bubbling up inside me. Suddenly, that word was the funniest word I had ever tried to say.

"Pu..." I started, but then I would be interrupted by my own laughing. "Put..."

"Oh, come on!" she said. She hit my arm. "Spit it out!"

"Wait a minute!" I said. "Why is it so funny?"

"I don't know!"

I stood up straight. I tried to gather myself. I held a straight face for two seconds. I took a deep breath.

"Putain," I said seriously and softly. It was barely a whisper.

"Putain?" she mimicked back to me.

I burst into laughter and she started to giggle with me.

"Putain? Is that right?" she asked me.

"Oui, oui," I said between laughs. Tears were gathering at the corners of my eyes.

She turned herself toward the balcony railing. She raised her arms up and shouted with her whole body. She looked like a wild politician.

"Putain! Merde! Putain!"

We both doubled over in laughter. She put her hand on my shoulder and then she leaned toward me. I felt her body weight on me, and I felt her shoulders heaving with laughter. Then, somehow, we ended up face to face. She was in my arms and looking up at me. She looked so happy!

"How's my pronunciation?" she asked again.

"It's okay."

"Just okay?"

"You have an American accent, of course… but it's cute."

"That's just another way of saying bad."

"Non," I said. "It's cute."

Her hands were on my waist. She squeezed me then.

"What did you say to me in the taxi?"

I touched her face. I put both of my hands on her cheeks. I opened my mouth to speak. I thought I would confess, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to say the words in English.

"I'll tell you one day," I said.

"One day? But you're leaving so soon."

I touched her lip with my thumb. It was so soft. Her face was so soft. Everything about her was soft. I leaned over to kiss her.

My lips had just brushed hers when the telephone rang from inside the hotel room. We jumped. Then we looked at each other in disbelief.

"Who could that be?" she asked through new giggles.

"I don't know," I said. I felt my own laughter bubbling up again.

She snuck out from my arms and ran over to the telephone. She sat on the bed before she picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she said, struggling to keep her serious tone.

"Yes, yes this is she...Oh, yes, I understand...I apologize...Yes, I understand. Thanks for calling."

Then she hung up the phone. She looked at me with huge eyes. Her face exploded into a smile. She couldn't stop laughing. She curled up on the bed, laughing.

"What? Who was it?" I said. I couldn't stop my own giggles. They were completely out of control.

"It was the front desk," she said. She wiped her eyes. "There have been noise complaints."

"Oh god!" I said. I closed the balcony doors then. I ran over to the bed and laid down on my stomach.

She was still laughing.

I was still laughing.

"They think I'm a crazy tourist or something," I said.

"Who cares?" Cosima said. "It's no big deal."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, definitely," she said. "No big deal."

We both laid on the bed. She was on her back, and I was on my stomach.

But it was only when our giggles died down that I realized it.

We are both on the bed! I thought. Her socks aren't off, thank goodness. But her shoes are! How did that happen?

And after realizing it, I found it hard to breathe. I found it hard to think about anything except the fact that she was only a few centimeters away from me. I couldn't even remember what had been so funny a few minutes before, because now everything felt very serious.

Everything was life-or-death serious. At least, I think that is what my pounding heart was trying to tell me.