The apartment was small, the kind where every sound echoed off the bare brick walls and every scent clung like it owned the place. s*x and vanilla candles—that was the permanent perfume. Two years of Maya and Lena had soaked into the furniture, the sheets, the air itself. Tonight the humidity pressed in from outside, thick and sticky, making skin feel electric even before anyone touched.
They sprawled on the couch in nothing but underwear and loose tops. A half-empty bottle of cheap red sat on the coffee table, two smudged glasses beside it. Some forgettable action flick flickered on the TV, explosions nobody cared about. Maya’s head rested in Lena’s lap; Lena’s fingers traced lazy circles over Maya’s stomach, dipping lower every few minutes, brushing the edge of cotton panties, then retr
