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I backed her up against the wall, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck and tilting her chin up. She smiled wryly. I could feel her about to tease me, “Are you a wall guy, W—‘’ so I covered her mouth with mine to shut her up and felt her body shudder. Her hands came up to my chest, brushing along my collarbones, then my shoulders.

Kissing her slowly like this was the best feeling in the world. I could do it all day. I wanted to do it all day, if for no other reason than because it would annoy the shit out of her to keep getting interrupted with kisses from her boyfriend. I made a note to whip that one out later. It’d drive her crazy.

I’d fuck her as soon as we were alone again, so for now I switched gears with a peck on her nose. She smiled, her angled tooth catching on kiss-swollen lips. It was so fucking hot. I adjusted my pants.

“What was that for?” she asked with a goofy smile.

“I vote for poop green,” I said. Her eyes instantly turned to slits, and I grinned at her.

“I’m not telling Has you said that,” she threatened, as if I give a shit about their door color. I shrugged and wandered out of the room, running my hand along the chair rail in the hallway. Stained wood, beautiful. I catalogued a few repairs that I had the proper woodworking tools to tackle. Did I have the time? I was leaving in two days.

And they were still bickering.

“It’s an earthy green,” Has said.

“Ugh… the word ‘earthy’ has such a smell to it.” I could practically hear Lou scrunching her nose.

“And poop green doesn’t?” he cried, exasperated.

I don’t know how I missed this sibling energy before. I guess because it’s basically how Lou and I interact, as well, except everything between us is charged. Sexier. Maybe that’s weird. Hmm, don’t care.

Louisa had installed new wallpaper above the wainscoting and carried it up through the hallway and foyer and onto the ceiling. The effect was cool as hell. After observing her in so many temporary spaces, seeing her style come alive here settled something in my chest. A real home for my artsy girl.

I looked into the various rooms off the hallway. It was a bigger house than I expected from the outside. Great hide-and-seek potential. Not a ton of storage—I’d have to draw up plans for some built-ins. I’ve never made them before.

Lou intended to keep their money in savings and pay the mortgage for the first few years with speaking fees from tech bros. The fact that this was even possible for her is wild to me. I told my mom and Eilidh, and they thought it was the fanciest shit they’d ever heard.

Gettin’ paid to stand there yappin’ at a load of eejits in suits. Jaysus. Imagine havin’ somethin’ to say that’s actually worth the money, eh? That’s a helluva woman, lad.

“Which room is yours, Iz?” I called out.

“The one with the hammock!” she yelled back. I’d never had sex in a hammock, but there was a first time for everything.

I pushed open the door and saw it there—the hammock hanging, her things in the laundry baskets and boxes piled in a corner. I sat in it, bouncing a little to test the wall anchors. Fairly solid. Depending on where I end up on the FOB, I might be sleeping in a hammock, too. Two chrysalises swinging through the slow transformation we’d need to get it right.

As much as I wished I had more time with her before I left, I wasn’t anxious about leaving, only about being gone. The quiet moments I’d have to wait to experience again. Waking up with Louisa’s warm body next to mine. Drinking coffee and watching her flit around the house.

But I was a patient man, and we were good at FaceTime. I was looking forward to flipping the script on Hasan—being the roommate in his closet. While I’d forgiven him for the whole miscommunication—in hindsight, I understood how it happened—I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he didn’t trust me with the truth about himself. I’ve worked with enough gay Marines to know it’s complicated, so I wasn’t going to be a dick about it, but it still felt sensitive. Like a hangnail. Dad would have reminded me: It’s not yer bloody business.

I was tapping a knuckle on the plaster to find the studs behind Louisa’s wall when she slipped her arms around my waist from behind. She squeezed me just a little too tight, and my breath hitched.

“Did you just smell me?” I asked.

“Fuck yeah, I did,” she said, unashamed. She swiped the hair out of her face. “Very earthy.”

I snorted, “I swear to god, Louisa.”

“Did I ever tell you about the guy I hooked up with who was a legitimate super-smeller?” she asked, face brightening.

Has piped in from behind the wall—he must have been in his bedroom, but he sounded like he was right next to us—‘’You do not want to hear this story, Will. You’ll never get hard again.”

“This is only gross for gays. Us straights are into it.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows.

“You’re not even straight, Louisa May!” he bellowed, a man at the end of his rope.

“Don’t try to manspl—‘’ but I kissed her again.

No time like the present.