Lisa

You dumbass.

My inner voice is on a roll as I drive home, calling me all kinds of names for making myself so vulnerable to Jennie. Telling her she'd "hooked" me, that she mattered to me, everything I'd meant to keep under lock and key.

And worse, pressuring her to come out, like a dumbass would. What was the matter with me? She's right: That's a shitty thing to do to someone, even if that "someone" needs to admit denial's not a river in Egypt.

She was right that it's none of my business, too. Why should it be?

It's just a tiny bit discouraging that the woman I want more than anything won't admit she wants to touch me, too, even though she kisses like she's starved for it. I don't want her to touch me until she can admit she wants it. What's the alternative, that she pretends she's just doing me a favor? No thanks.

She'd kissed me just like she did in the elevator. Like it was the last thing she'd ever do. My lips tingle just remembering it, and she's going to pretend she isn't even a little bit queer?

That she's not like me at all?

Maybe that's the root of it for me, I think as I park my car and head into my apartment. Maybe I need to hear from her that we're the same in this, that I'm not some midlife crisis she's going to get over before she marries another man.

I wonder what it'll take for me to get over her. I step inside the apartment, lock the door, and nearly jump out of my skin when Minnie's voice says, "So where've you been?"

She's watching me from our tatty old armchair, sitting in a half-lotus with her arms crossed over her chest. She's in her cactus blossom PJs and would look downright comfortable if it weren't for the glare she's giving me. Triscuit sits on the arm of the sofa, looking likewise judgmental, although I'm used to that by now.

I blink. It's only a quarter to ten—not that late. In fact, once I get my head together, I'm planning to use the extra time to finish up the essay my professor graciously granted me an extension on. "I just got home from work. What's wrong?"

"Check your phone," she says.

I reach for my purse before remembering my phone's in my front pocket. I pull it out. "Did you text me or something?"

"Or something. Look at your calls."

I do, and then I frown. My phone's showing a call to Minnie when I don't remember making one. The time was…

My heart stops. The time was right when I arrived at Jennie's.

How did I—? Oh, shit. I was getting ready to text Minnie as I walked to Jennie's door. I meant to ask her if she wanted me to pick up something to eat on the way home, and then I forgot all about it. Did my finger slip when I put the phone back in my pocket? Did I call her instead? Oh no. I did. The evidence is staring me right in the face with my call history.

"I said hello and everything," Minnie tells me, still stone-faced. "Guess you didn't hear me."

No, I didn't. I keep the volume down unless I'm actually talking to somebody. Jennie likes her environs to be as quiet as possible.

"I heard you, though," Minnie says. "And her. Loud and clear."

There's no point in denying anything. "Jesus Christ. You listened in?"

"Just long enough to be sure of what I was hearing." Her voice drops down into what I guess is supposed to be a sexy whisper. "'Twice today, Jennie? I'm spoiling you.'"

I've never been so humiliated in my fucking life. My blood feels like ice. "Minniee!"

"No, don't. Don't even." She uncurls and puts one foot on the floor before pointing at me. "I've been saying the whole time she's got a thing for you, and you've been all, 'No, you're imagining things.' And now she's pulled you into some porno about the boss and the sexy secretary."

"It's not like that!" And yet, mixed in with my humiliation and outrage is a kind of relief. The secret's out, but at least it's with someone I trust. Maybe Minnie can finally smack some sense into me.

"So what's it like? How did it start? Wait…I'm sorry." Minnie rubs the back of her neck. "God. I don't mean to sound so mad. I'm just really worried about you. Is she making you do this? Come on, sit down."

My shoulders slump. "In a second."

Once that second is up, Minnie and I both have beers and I'm curled up on the couch, trying not to feel like my best friend is a firing squad.

Time to get straight to the point. "Nobody's making me do this."

She looks skeptical as she takes a pull from her bottle.

"I mean it," I insist. "Min, it was my idea in the first place."

Minnie chokes on her beer, which sends Triscuit fleeing from the sofa arm to the kitchen. "What?"

And I tell her everything. As I hear the story leaving my own mouth, I realize how insane I sound. I hear my rationalizations clear as day: It doesn't impact our jobs. It's not a big deal. It's just sex.

"So she kissed you first," Minnie says when I'm done and my beer bottle is sweaty and warm in my hand.

"Yeah," I admit. I'm hunching my shoulders like a guilty kid, and I make myself stop. "But as crazy as it sounds, I don't think she meant to. She looked shocked when it was over. And she never pushed me for more."

Minnie rolls the bottle against her neck. "Jesus, Lisa, what a clusterfuck. What are you going to do if it all goes south?" She holds up an index finger before I can object. "Like, if you stop making her happy, or if one of you wants more and the other doesn't, or…" She pauses dramatically enough to make me clench my teeth. "If you get caught?"

Oddly enough, it's the last one that freaks me out the least. Yes, if we got caught, it'd be bad—not least for my reputation—but it's not like we're breaking any laws. Besides, except for that one scare with Sana that turned out to be nothing, we haven't run into any problems on that front.

I don't think I'll stop making Jennie "happy" any time soon either—at least, not in the way Minnie means. It's the third possibility that has me nervous. I say, "What more could either of us want?"

Minnie rolls her eyes. "Gee, I dunno. Maybe you want to be with a woman who won't chew you up and spit you out this time?"

My hand tightens on the bottle. "She won't do that."

"Really." Minnie shifts forward in the chair and tucks one leg underneath her, leaning forward like she's trying to see right inside my skull. "So you can tell me honestly that you feel nothing for this woman other than the sex?"

I open and close my mouth. I was really hoping Minnie wouldn't ask me that.

Minnie snaps her fingers. "I knew it."

"O-of course I feel something," I stammer. "I wouldn't have sex with someone I felt nothing for. She's hot and smart, and there's—there's just this chemistry, that's all. I've never had anything like it with anybody else. Plus…"

I look down at my bottle. Plus there's the little thing I revealed to Jennie in a moment that was more vulnerable than I'd planned: My life hasn't been a basket of roses these last few years. Touching Jennie might be dangerous for my heart, but it makes me feel alive in a way I'd forgotten was possible.

Maybe it will help if I explain that. I begin to peel the bottle's label off. Its edges are soggy and soft. "It's been hard. This feels like the first good thing that's happened to me in a while. She's nothing like Tzuyu, Min. She's not like anybody else I've ever been with."

Silence. I look up hopefully, only to see that my words haven't reassured Minnie. She's shaking her head. "Honey, you are gone."

I've always known that, sort of. Hearing it out loud from my best friend is something else. It makes it real. My hands feel shaky. "I can look after myself."

"Yeah, and you've been doing it for too long. You know what we need? Another night on the town." She reaches over the arm of the chair to set her beer on the floor and rubs her palms together. They sound slick. "It's been all work and school for you, and… Holy shit, you told me you forgot your essay. You can't tell me this thing with Jennie had nothing to do with that?"

I really wish I could. "I've been busy."

"Yeah, busy getting busy. No wonder—you're at that office so much every day you've forgotten there's life outside it." Minnie gives an imperious nod. "We're going out, and you are going to remember there are other people in the world. Or are you telling me you can't do that?"

"Of course I can do that," I growl. "Of course I'll go out this weekend, if I've got time. You don't have to make a big deal out of it."

"Make the time," Minnie says firmly. "Saturday. Hyunjin's out of town, so we'll make it another girl's night. You know, Sorn and I were texting, and she told me—"

She cuts off, and my gaydar immediately goes on. "Sorn told you what, exactly?"

Minnie pinks. "Just that there's some fun stuff going on in Midtown."

All of a sudden, I remember a quick conversation I had this afternoon with Jaemin, when I was killing time after molesting Jennie in the bathroom and pretending I didn't care that she was avoiding me. "This guy at the office is doing a bar crawl with his boyfriend and some other people. He asked if I wanted to come."

"Yes." Minnie's tone is definitive. "Yes, you do. And so do I."

"And Sorn," I can't resist saying.

She shrugs one irritable shoulder. "Maybe."

I decide not to remind Minnie that she's with a halfway decent guy and that Sorn would be a personality mismatch. If I've learned anything recently, it's that I'm not the best judge of how a relationship situation will shake out. Plus, until she asks for my input, it's none of my business.

I wish she understood the same thing.

"Tell him we'll come," she orders me. "Tell him to make sure there are some cute queer girls there, if he knows any. And tell me," she adds, overriding my protest, "that you're not even a little bit in over your head?"

I can't tell her that. She knows it, too. I glare.

"You need a night out," she says gently. "And if you ask me, you need a different job."

I snort. "Yeah, because they grow on trees." I don't need to tell her Jennie offered to find me one that would even have suited my professional interests. I doubt it'd help my case. "I'm fine. Honest. Pinkie swear."

"If you say so. But…" She sighs. "I'm not gonna say 'I told you so' or anything, okay? If it doesn't end well, I want you to come and cry on my shoulder if you need to. I'm not going to judge. And if you find somebody new this weekend, I want you to tell me all about that, too," she adds brightly.

"You'll be the first to know." My body's almost vibrating with tension. How am I supposed to concentrate on my stupid essay now?

I'll just have to, that's all. I drag myself to my room after a few more less-than-reassuring reassurances on both our parts and stare at my laptop, willing the concluding paragraph for my essay to appear magically.

If you meet somebody new, Minnie had said.

I should try. Jennie made it obvious not one hour ago that she's not ready to give me what I need. I told her I'd be patient, but I didn't exactly sign a binding contract to stick around until she feels like saying, Okay, maybe I like girls a little bit. We've made no promises to each other, and she'd have no right to be mad. Just like I'd have no right to be mad if she left her apartment tomorrow morning and tripped over Husband Number Three in the hallway.

There's only one problem with trying to make new connections when you're all tangled up in somebody else.

It rarely works.