"It's beautiful out here," Lena says, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders against the slight chill.
"One of the reasons I chose this place." I sit beside her, close but not touching. "Watch the fireworks after home baseball games. See the seasons change."
She places the joint between her lips—a sight that does unexpectedly distracting things to my pulse—and strikes a match. The flame illuminates her face in the gathering dusk as she inhales, the tip of the joint glowing red.
She holds the smoke for a moment before exhaling and then offers it to me. "Your turn."
I take it, our fingers brushing in the exchange. "Do I just...?"
"Inhale, but not too deep for your first time. Hold it a second, then exhale."
I follow her instructions, immediately dissolving into a coughing fit that makes her laugh.
"Easy, tiger," she says, patting my back. "Small puffs."
My second attempt is going better. We pass the joint back and forth in comfortable silence, watching the lights of the city blur and grow more vibrant as the drug begins to take effect.
"Oh," I say after about fifteen minutes. "I get it now."
Lena grins. "Getting there?"
"Everything feels... slower. But in a good way." I lean back in my chair, looking up at the sky. The city lights wash out most of the stars, but the bridges' rainbow illumination seems to pulse with new significance. "Those are really pretty."
"They are." She follows my gaze to the bridges. "I forgot it was Pride month."
"I never forget." I take another small hit, feeling bolder. "Though I'm not feeling very proud right now, given how spectacularly I failed at my last relationship."
"You didn't fail. Adam did."
"Maybe." I pass the joint back to her. "But I chose him, you know? I kept making excuses."
"I get that." She takes a hit, the ember briefly illuminating her face. "Four years with Brad. Four years I'll never get back."
"Why'd you stay so long?"
She shrugs, a small, vulnerable gesture. "He made me believe no one else would want me. That I was lucky to have him. And I believed it."
"That's such bullshit," I say, the words coming out more forcefully than intended. "You're amazing."
She laughs, but it doesn't sound happy. "You don't have to say that."
"I'm not just saying it." I turn to face her fully. "You'resmart and kind, and you fixed my brother's tooth without murdering him, which automatically makes you a saint."
This gets a genuine laugh. "The bar is pretty low there."
"Plus, you're gorgeous." The marijuana seems to have disconnected my brain-to-mouth filter, but I can't bring myself to care. "Brad's an idiot."
She studies me for a long moment, her expression unreadable in the dim light. "You're high."
"Doesn't make it less true."
We lapse into silence again, finishing the joint and watching the lights on the water. I wonder if she’s thinking about Brad’s weird comments on my sexual preferences as if he weren’t jumping from one gendered person to another. The marijuana has relaxed me completely, melting away the aches from training and the tension from our confrontation with Brad. My thoughts drift pleasantly, occasionally circling back to the kiss we're both pretending was just for show.
"I'm hungry," Lena announces eventually. "Did we get those chocolate espresso beans?"
"Nachos," I declare, standing up too quickly and feeling the world tilt slightly. "We need nachos."
I pull out tortilla chips, cheese, jalapeños, and salsa in the kitchen. Lena perches on a barstool, watching me with amusement as I layer ingredients into a baking dish.
