Eliana returned to the rooftop lounge like nothing had happened.
Her mouth was wiped clean. Her posture was elegant. She looked like a woman who hadn't just been on her knees in a bathroom.
She was glowing.
The group had migrated to a corner couch, sprawling around a table of melting ice buckets and nearly-empty glasses. Luis was in the middle of telling a story—his accent smooth, animated hands gesturing midair as he recounted something about Greece.
"We should all go," he was saying, half-shouting over the music. "The coast is unreal. I'll take you to Paros. You'd love it. Sun, salt, boys in speedos."
Everyone laughed.
Eliana smiled, sweet and slow, sipping the same untouched pink drink. "Sounds like heaven."
She leaned over casually, pulling Nicky close by the collar of his mesh shirt. Her breath grazed his ear.
"I'm coming back to your apartment tonight," she whispered. She didn't give him a chance to answer.
Then she sat back and sipped her drink, eyes on Luis.
