There wasn't much to see in Middlewater during the day, but at night there was even less. Most stores closed before 7, and the nighttime illumination situation was kind of pathetic compared to an actual city. They went down the street of darkened storefronts before turning to the slightly brighter University campus, where the still dry fountain was illuminated by round greenish lights sticking out of the ground like zits. 

"This is cool," Goldie said, examining a Gothic revival pointed archway. Some of the lamp light reflected off a bronze plate identifying the class of 1947 as generous benefactors to this specific university building. "Very dark academia. Very Secret History." 

"The drama department put on a 'dark academia' themed play last semester," Nina volunteered. "It said that on the poster. 'Dark academia.' I think a student wrote it. They asked if we'd put one of the posters up in our window but I don't think we ended up doing that. The store owner is pretty selective about what we end up displaying. Good design is a priority."

"I wrote a play in college," Goldie said. "It wasn't dark academia, but it still wasn't very good." She shook her head, smiling ruefully at the folly of her several-years-ago youth. "I didn't want to get it produced, so after the class ended I just didn't tell anyone I wrote a play at all."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"Not that bad, maybe, but not good either." She shook her head again.

They wandered around a bit more before Nina realized she was shivering and suggested they walk back to her car. She'd parked a good ten minutes' walk from where they were standing, and they walked back through the campus and across Main Street to reach the used hatchback Nina had inherited from her mother as a graduation gift. 

"Have you ever thought about what it would've been like to go here?" Goldie asked. "Like, for college?" They stepped through the massive iron gates to the sidewalk on the main street.

"I didn't have the grades for that in the first place," Nina said immediately. Fifteen people from her graduating class did, but not Nina. Some bad tests in freshman year had screwed up her GPA for the rest of her high school career. "And I wouldn't want to go to the same school my dad works at, that'd be weird. I'd probably have to live at home the whole time, too." None of that dorm life for Nina.

"Your dad works here? I don't think I knew that. That's cool." Goldie was looking at the buildings stretching down the street like they were somehow uniquely fascinating.

Nina nodded. "Professor in Slavic studies." She led Goldie down the side street where she'd parked that morning.

"Impressive. He must be super smart. My dad's pretty smart too, he does, like, business stuff, but he's pretty much given up on the idea of either me or Delany taking over the company after he..." She took a breath, then continued. "George was always going to be the one to do that, but then— yeah." She had a slightly lost look in her eyes, like she'd stumbled down a few steps and wasn't sure how that happened. "Sorry," she added in a whisper.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Nina said.

"That— you don't have to say that. I'm sorry for bringing it up." Goldie yanked open the passenger side door and got in the car before Nina could offer to open it for her. "Anyway... I'm excited to see where you live."

"Uh. Yeah," said Nina. "Please lower your expectations."

Goldie laughed and patted her arm, almost absentmindedly. The casual intimacy of the touch shocked Nina, and she willed herself not to flinch away. She started the car.

"It's cute!" Goldie declared, after they'd stepped through the front door and Nina had insisted she take her shoes off and put on a pair of guest slippers. 

Nina glanced around the first floor, trying to guess what Goldie saw in it. Did she think their decor was thrifty? Retro? They'd brought a lot of stuff over from Russia when they emigrated, but it was mostly books and Nina's toys. A lot of the furniture was IKEA. They had a set of lacquerware spoons and bowls in the china cabinet someone had given her dad for his tenth year in the department, and some framed signed photos of her father with various Russian and Ukrainian writers. And some framed regular photos of Nina, her mom, Nina and her mom, Nina and her dad, just her parents, all three of them together. Her dad was big on capturing moments. Nina and her mom put up with it. 

The TV was, thankfully, turned off. 

Nina went over to the kitchen island and started digging through the cabinets for the one wine she liked. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Whatever you're having, I guess. What are you having?" Goldie wandered over and rested her chin on Nina's shoulder as she wrestled with the cork. "Ooh, yeah, that looks good. Sure."

Nina poured two generous glasses of white wine for them and then, because it would be ridiculous to drink white wine in her childhood bedroom, directed Goldie to the couch. 

"I thought you'd be more of a wine snob. Restauranteur sister and all," Nina said. 

Goldie shrugged. "I'm honestly not much of a wine person generally, though I know enough about it to fit in with actual wine people. I just get whichever bottle has the prettiest label. That's my curatorial eye, see. Sometimes if the label is really nice I'll cut it out and add it to my bullet journal when I finish the bottle. Which usually only happens when friends come over and help me with that." She took a sip and frowned thoughtfully. "Yeah, this is fine."

Nina's shoulders slumped with relief, and she took a sip herself.

"Do you still have that first painting you showed me?" Goldie asked suddenly.

Nina nodded. "In the basement." She pointed at the door to the basement and directed Goldie down the stairs.

"Wow, you have a whole studio!" Goldie exclaimed. "Reminds me of my mom's."

"'Whole' might be a bit generous," Nina said, turning on the overhead light. Goldie gasped when she saw the painting resting on the easel, leaning back like an emperor on a throne. The other canvas was leaning against the base of the easel. They did seem to fit together somehow, like a real series.

"The colors are much nicer in real life," she said. "Even with the basement lighting. And the texture! It's practically sculptural. Were you thinking of submitting this anywhere?"

Nina shrugged, though she felt her face heat from the compliments. With their wineglasses in hand and the paintings in front of them, Nina almost felt like she was at a private gallery showing already.

"You should! I'll talk to my mom and she might be able to suggest some galleries that'd be interested, or introduce you to curators."

"Does she know anyone... Entry level?" Nina asked. She hadn't asked who exactly Goldie's mom was, but she got the impression it was someone she would've known if she'd studied fine arts instead of illustration. Googling seemed like a violation of privacy, somehow.

"I'm sure she can help you somehow," Goldie insisted, and snapped a photo of the canvas. "I'll talk to her, don't worry." She snapped a photo of the other painting Nina finished too for good measure.

"Thank you," said Nina, and turned to go back up the stairs.

They ended up turning on YouTube and showing each other their favorite videos from when they were kids— the ones that hadn't been deleted over time. The wine seemed to do its job: Nina felt relaxed, slightly sleepy, and ready to turn off the TV and do something more interesting. 

She discreetly unbuttoned the top few buttons of her jumpsuit, so the lace of her bra peeked out over the top, and leaned closer, pressing the entire length of her arm against Goldie's. 

The pressure got Goldie's attention. She hit pause on Charlie the Unicorn and looked down. Nina tilted her head back, brown eyes meeting blue-gray-green. Goldie leaned down to kiss her. Deeply. A kiss Nina felt through her spinal cord.

Nina flopped back down on the couch and shoved one hand under Goldie's sweater as Goldie leaned over her.

"Careful, that's vintage Brooks Brothers," she said, between kisses. 

"How about you take it off for me, then?" Nina's voice sounded too breathless as she undid Goldie's belt. 

"Well, if you insist." Goldie sat on top of Nina, pinning her down on the couch, and pulled her top off over her head. She undid a button on the side of her skirt and discarded that too, sending it unceremoniously to the floor in a heap. Underneath all that was a clearly expensive lingerie set, all floral embroidery and lace. It made Nina think of dolls again, Victorian-era porcelain ones with frighteningly smooth and pale skin hidden by layers and layers of garments.