The languid summer nightlife of Streeterville glimmered below our suite at the Drake. Passing bikes jostled tourists filing out of some free night concert by Oak Street Beach, and wispy clouds gleamed with the full moonlight. Trini stood by the window, bare beneath a violet silk robe, mesmerized by our oblivious audience stretching north. Rob and I lounged on the sofa in each other’s arms, our bare legs intertwined in the long, beautiful silence.
Rob plucked my vape pen out of my fingers as I finished my drag, and I strained not to laugh and cough at his playful eyebrow. The vapor curled and puffed towards Trini as I exhaled, gazing past her audience to the landscape of my life. Out there in between the stately high rises in Uptown, the Divorce Shelter was dark and empty, with the Adultery Lesbians in a place of their own. Out in Lincoln Square, Mandy and some adorable accountant into commitment and oral were doing whatever couples who worked did with themselves. Ashley was happily fucking her way through Edgewater after we both got bored, and Jacob had found himself a Puerto Rican top into, strangely, Ayn Rand.
Trini slowly turned from the window as Rob blew out the last of his drag. We both rose at her glance, at the lamplight shimmering in her focused, burning eyes. A novel’s worth of words had passed between us about this moment, separately, together, alone to ourselves after the talking finished. Our bodies rose and moved in melodies played separately until now.
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