Page 85 of One Adult, Please

I laugh, breathless and happier than I've been since the world ended. "I think you broke my brain. In the best way. Ten out of ten. Would get railed in a fish tube again."

He stays inside me while we catch our breath, slow lazy rocks like he can't bear to leave yet. When he finally pulls out, he ties off the condom and wraps it in the discarded foil before putting it in the maintenance bag with the rest of our trash, because even post-sex Joel is still Joel.

He helps me sit up, hands gentle.

"I think we owe this bench an apology," I say.

"It held up better than I expected."

"Joel. We just had sex on a piece of furniture designed for three-minute fish viewing. It deserves hazard pay."

He looks down. "The bench is fine."

"It feels broken."

"That might be your legs."

My legs do feel broken. In the best way. "Yeah. That tracks."

He laughs. Quiet. Against my hair.

I watch the fish and think about how strange this is. I reach up, touch his face, trace the line of his jaw with my thumb.

He's quiet for a long moment. Then he turns his head and kisses my palm. "We should probably get dressed," he says. "Beck's going to say something."

"Beck's going to say so many things. He's going to be insufferable for days."

"Worth it."

I grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

We get dressed. It takes longer than it should because my legs really don't work and my pants are inside out and Joel has to help me with my hoodie because my arms have forgotten their primary function. But eventually we're clothed and standing. The bench is behind us, a silent witness to what just happened, and I'll never look at a fish tube bench the same way again.

We walk back toward the entrance. Joel's hand finds mine somewhere around the midpoint of the tunnel. His fingers lace with mine.

The door opens. Beck is right there, leaning against the wall, grinning like he's been rehearsing the grin for the entire time we were gone. "So," he says. "How was the perimeter?"

"Secure," Joel says flatly.

I choke on nothing. Joel squeezes my hand. Beck's grin widens.

"Good to know," Beck says. "Grace's hair is doing a thing, by the way. Just so you know. It's doing a whole thing."

My free hand flies to my head. My hair is doing several things. A symphony of things. I try to smooth it down and make it worse.

"Fish tube humidity," I say. "Very aggressive. Nothing to do with anything else. Just moisture from the fish."

"From the fish."

"Yes."

"The fish made your hair like that."

"The fish are very humid, Beck."

Grant appears from around the corner. He takes in the scene, and his face does the small warm thing that means he's figured out exactly what's happening and is choosing not to comment directly.