Nina swung her legs over Goldie’s, stretching out over the seat as a declaration of intent.. “Do you really think I’m coming over to sleep in your spare bedroom?”

“I just meant, if you change your mind or something...” Her face was red. 

Nina scooted closer, so she was practically sitting in Goldie’s lap. “You don’t do this very often, do you.” To be fair, neither did Nina, but this level of anxiety seemed excessive.

“I have anxiety issues and a therapist working on them,” Goldie said, her voice high and breathy in a way that made Nina’s heart beat faster. “It does get worse in unfamiliar situations, though.” 

"But you still want to..."

"Yes, I still want to! Let's not overthink it, okay?" She seemed to be talking more to herself than Nina.

Goldie's idea of a messy apartment seemed very different from Nina's: at most, it seemed lived-in, with some dishes on the kitchen counter and in the sink and sweaters draped over a red boxy couch. The kitchen-living room space was bigger than in most apartments Nina had been in, with huge windows on the far side letting in a moonlit view of rooftops and Central Park a few blocks away.

"You can take your shoes off if you want," Goldie said, as she went to turn on the lights. Nina already did so automatically and had glanced around for slippers before remembering Goldie was American. 

"I have a cleaning service come by on Mondays, but I don't really tidy up until the day before if I remember," Goldie was saying apologetically, and Nina found herself faced with that classic problem of finding out your new acquaintance is actually significantly richer than you've ever been.

Nina decided to worry about that later, and came closer to Goldie. She couldn't remember the last time she'd done this. To be precise, she hadn't— hooking up with girls at art school classmates' parties was more her usual style. Never going to a secondary location, rarely seeing the same girls again later. It seemed to work for everyone. Going to someone else's space seemed much more intimate, especially someone she'd just met. Nina almost wanted to avert her eyes from the couch, the countertop piled with unopened mail, the pieces that told her slightly too much about who this Golding was.

So Nina looked into her eyes— tinted green in the dim incandescent light— and kissed her first. Goldie staggered back, grabbing the countertop for support, but kissed Nina back, holding her for support. Goldie was a bit taller than Nina, but much thinner, and holding her felt a bit like holding a life-sized doll. A doll who moved, and spoke, and burned hot where Nina touched her.

"Could we—" Goldie gasped, "do this on the couch? My bed's kind of—"

"Didn't you say you had a spare bedroom?" Nina asked, and nipped lightly at Goldie's collarbone.

She made a hissing sound. "Right. Forgot—" she gasped again " —about that."

"Or," Nina said, readjusting her grip on Goldie to hold her lower back, "we could keep going here."

Goldie was leaning against the side of her kitchen cabinets and slowly sliding down them, which was kind of hot, but probably not very sanitary if they ended up on the floor.

Goldie glanced at the tiles under their feet and probably made the same calculation. "Spare bedroom it is." She straightened up, and grinned at Nina with her red, kiss-swollen mouth. The matte lipstick had somehow held up, and Nina was wondering if it'd leave marks on her. "And then it'll be your turn."

Her voice had dropped lower, almost growling, and Nina felt her heart beating between her legs.

"Sounds good to me," Nina said, going for casual and missing by a mile.

Nina had a hard time sleeping in unfamiliar places generally, but sleeping in the same bed as a near-stranger proved to be even more difficult. She felt like she was on the verge of waking up at any moment, and did wake up several times, blinking up at the dark ceiling with a weight on her arm. The weight of a body, warm and breathing, that wasn’t her own, that she didn’t know.

When she woke up for real, the other side of the bed was cold and her clothes were neatly folded with her jewelry from the night before on top of the pile. It was past ten. She had two panicked texts from Katie and an email from Graham asking where she was. And a calmer message from her dad, unfamiliar with her work schedule for the week, who asked when she planned to go home.

"Taking a sick day, sorry," Nina sent back, and looked around for Goldie. She didn't see any signs of the other girl, but she could hear dishes clattering in the distance.

The spare room looked strange, like something out of a home decor magazine, but personalized. The bed was big with half a dozen pillows and a matching sheet set they'd kicked aside the night before. There was a small bookcase full of children's literature and a closed trunk that might have held toys. Picture frames stood on the bookcase and hung on the wall, showing primarily a young boy, sometimes with what must have been his parents and sometimes with a younger Goldie and another girl.

Nina shrugged and got dressed with her back to the photos. She slipped her jewelry in her tote bag and went into the kitchen.

"Good morning!" Goldie was wearing an oversized T-shirt and making coffee with a silver machine. Her hair was tied up to stay out of her face. There was a frying pan on the stove and two plates, waiting to be filled with food.

"I thought I'd wait for you before starting breakfast," Goldie explained, gesturing to the pan. "How do you feel about omelettes?"

"Depends on what's in them," Nina answered. "Honestly, I was expecting you to get croissants from a bakery or something."

Goldie shook her head. "Omelettes are the only thing I can really cook, so I refuse to let anyone leave my place without trying them."

She started cracking eggs into a bowl, using a fork to break the shells. "My mom was determined we all knew how to cook enough to feed ourselves. Delany outsold, of course— she opened a restaurant in the Village a few months ago. But I can manage too."

"You have siblings?"

Goldie nodded. "Well. George died when I was in middle school, so it's just me and Delany now." She pulled some vegetables out of the fridge. "It's been a long time, so it's not a huge deal or anything. Do you like bell peppers?"

Nina winced. "Not my favorite."

"I can dooo...." Goldie peered into the fridge. "Cheese and broccoli? Kale? Chopped up leftover fried chicken?"

"Any and all of that sounds good. Um, I'm sorry to hear about your brother."

"It's not a huge deal anymore." Goldie was facing away from Nina as she got stuff out of the fridge, so Nina couldn't see her face. When she turned around again, it was blank, devoid of any emotion at all. "Coffee?"

"Sure." 

Nina let Goldie pour her a cup. "So uhh, the spare room."

Goldie froze for a second, hands full of broccoli stalks. "I forgot that was— it was dark last night and I barely go in there... Yeah, that used to be George's, when we stayed here as kids. This used to be like, a secondary residence kind of thing, you know, like for trips and things... George and Delany shared when we were really little, and I would sleep in our parents' room, and then when they got older Delany took the foldout couch, and then..."

"Sorry," Nina cut her off. "You don't have to talk about it."

"It's fine," Goldie repeated, and started to cut the vegetables.

The omelettes were good. Nina was half-expecting the thin French kind, fillings rolled up tight in the middle, but instead she got a thick, fluffy diner-style pile of eggs and vegetables. The coffee from the complicated-looking silver machine was good too, even though Nina preferred tea. "So what are your plans for the day?" 

Goldie pulled out her phone to consult her calendar. “I’m actually meeting up with a friend for lunch at 1, and then we’re going to the Met... How about you?”

Nina shrugged. “I was supposed to be at work today, but I called in sick, so now... nothing.” She swung her foot back and forth under the table, grazing Goldie’s long, bare legs with the tips of her stocking-clad feet.

“Well.” Goldie grinned. “Why don’t we hang out for a bit?”

Nina wasn’t sure what the etiquette was for one-night stands. How long was a normal amount of time to spend together the morning after? How long was a normal amount of time to spend, consecutively, with someone you just met? Then again, it wasn’t like she had anything else planned for her day. And Goldie, at least, didn’t seem to be regretting the previous night.

“Sure.”