"Can I come over tomorrow?"

"Would it be okay if I... came over tomorrow? To your place?" Noa was lying on her side, curled up next to Reese. The lights were out all over the apartment, and everything was quiet save their voices and the fan drying their clothes.

"Of course," Reese replied. God, they were tired, but they wanted to stay up and chat with Noa as long as they could.

"I want..." She grew quiet.

"Yeah?"

"I think it would be cool to, umm... maybe take a picture."

"Oh." Reese was trying not to grin like a fool. "Really?"

She nodded, flicking little strands of hair over her face. She blew them away with an exaggerated puff of her lips. "It sounds kinda hot, honestly." She paused. "But, umm -- promise you won't share it on the internet?"

"I promise."

"I don't want to see myself on Reddit."

"I promise I would never do that."

"Okay." She sat up. "I know we literally just met, but... I trust you." She caressed Reese's cheek with the back of her hand. "Please don't betray that trust."

"I won't."

She smiled. "Okay. I know. I just... y'know. Anxiety."

"You don't have to do it, Noa."

"No, see, the thing is, I wanna do it. I want to get off. I want to feel sexy. But, like... I know what I look like, and I've met so many guys who would justify violating my privacy because of that." She fell silent as her hand migrated to Reese's solar plexus. "Then again... you're not a guy, are you?"

Reese blushed. "No." They were anxious, too. They felt like an alien again. "Do you, umm... do you see me... as a... man?"

Noa chewed her lip. "No. I don't. Maybe that's why I feel so comfortable with you." She made a face. "Not to, umm, fetishize you or anything."

"Don't worry, you're not."

"Okay. Good." She sighed. "I'm done at 7, by the way."

"So... you still want to?"

She smiled. "Yeah. I want to."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"If tomorrow you decide --"

"Reese." Her hand was at their arm. "I want to."

"Okay."

"I am very sleepy."

"Me too."

"Would you mind if I put on some music? It helps me sleep."

"Not at all."

"One sec." Noa unlocked her phone, opened her music app, and selected a playlist. A Bill Callahan song started playing. ("A barroom may entice... a seagull like me...") Then she leaned over to the nightstand, put the phone away, and crawled closer to Reese.

"Can I say something awkward?"

"Please." Reese was stroking her side.

"Even if this is just a one-night stand kind of thing, I'm really glad you came over. Also, you're cute."

Reese giggled. "Thanks." They nuzzled her forehead. "Me too."

"Although I guess technically it would be a 'most of one full day stand.'"

"The superior stand."

Noa snorted and slid into Reese's arms. "Is this okay?"

"Mmhmm."

"Good. 'Night, Reese."

"'Night."

"And the weight of the world slips away
(Slips away)
And the seagull falls back into the sea..."

She felt right, here. In their arms.

Reese listened to the songs fade, one into another, guess how long it'd been, glancing down at Noa, admiring how cutely she slept, but after a while they mostly stared at the ceiling.

The Bill Callahan song ended. Then came Cat Power, then Yo La Tengo, then Starflyer 59. Now an early Low song was playing and Reese felt like God's Lonely Enby, all by themself in the dark.

Noa'd been asleep for probably twenty minutes or so. Her breath was hot against Reese's neck, like a kiss that never came, and the all-encompassing warmth of her body was like a second blanket.

They didn't know what to do.

Reese didn't usually stay with others for very long, unless they were at their house. They felt safe there, in control, able to compartmentalize.

They lived a life of drifting in and out of other people's lives. Reese had always felt like a cannibal -- they felt like they consumed people, bit by bit, the longer they stuck around. They'd felt that way since they were a kid, when they were still figuring their shit out; they'd always assumed they'd feel differently about themself one day, that they'd accept themself and afford themself a little bit of happiness, but that moment never really came. Yes, they were happier now; yes, they felt more in control of their life. But the voice was still there. The anxious, pearl-clutching voice that said, over and over, "You're a freak and freaks don't deserve to be happy. You're a joke and everyone laughs at you."

So Reese kept most people at arm's length. It was easier that way. It was easier to watch others live their lives, to listen to stories instead of tell them... It was easier to be small, to take up as little space as possible, to become set-dressing for the drama of others' lives, a prop that disappears between acts and no one really notices. Fucking was better when it ended in friendly goodbyes instead of tears. The moment could be frozen in a photograph and the memory would remain untouched, would be good forever.

There wasn't a single piece of Reese's collection -- photographs or videos -- that was tied to sadness. None of the women had begged them to stay, or asked to see them again, or intimated that they wanted anything more than what they already had. Hell, Reese was still friends with many of them. Even Lydia, who Reese had just met, had texted them shortly before they climbed into bed with Noa, affirming that she wanted to be friends but that she probably wouldn't be down to have sex again. And that was okay.

Noa complicated things.

It wasn't that they'd slept over -- Reese had done that with plenty of women -- but that she had asked them to stay. Repeatedly. That she had refused the opportunity to let them go. And that was... well, it was confusing. But it was also nice to feel... wanted.

They gave Noa a squeeze.

Fuck.