My vision is bleary on the phone screen but my brain refuses to rest and Reddit is the only distraction I have available to me in our hostel. It's barely midnight but everyone else has already gone to bed—Caleb needs his beauty sleep for tomorrow, Eilidh just has the sleep rhythm of someone who has their life together, Rishi "is lazy" in his words, and Allan just follows whatever it is that everyone else is doing. So it's just me awake.

We booked a hostel room with four bunkbeds and yet it still cost a fortune and a half for a weekend stay. The beds ain't even got curtains around them—hence why I'm on the surprisingly comfortable armchair in the corridor rather than my bed. I don't wanna disturb everyone with my stirring and scrolling.

I'm ten minutes into an r/AITA comment section dragging some bloke for complaining that his long-term girlfriend won't do all the domestic work for him anymore after getting a promotion when footsteps scuff the stairs. I jolt and drop my phone, my body's instinct to run to the toilet before some stranger sees me here in my pyjamas, but it's Joe who emerges from the staircase.

We're mirrors of each other's "caught red-handed" expressions though neither of us've done owt wrong. Joe shrinks like I'm a parent who's caught her out past curfew.

'Hi...' Her voice is raw. Has she been crying?

'Hiya,' I respond, sheepishly picking my phone off the floor.

After evaluating, Joe approaches me. This hostel is nowt but dusty windowsills and freezing water, but some manager has invested in a reading nook in the corridor of each floor to lure guests into a false sense of security about what they're in for. There's a brass coffee table with a fake flower in a vase and two velvet armchairs that match the teal of their reception. The set is placed awkwardly two-thirds down the hall with the communal toilet and stairs on one end and the rooms at the other, presumably for no other reason than because this is where the electric sockets are. Suppose the creature comforts budget ran out at "extension cord".

Joe lowers herself into the seat like we're at Buckingham Palace.

I rotate my phone in my hands as I drink her in. She has further elated her fingerwaves with a row of rhinestones glued to the side parting that catch even the dull corridor light. The silver is carried over to the tangle of necklaces tucked into the collar of her oversized shirt. It rides up her thighs as she squirms in the velvet armchair that don't look half as pet-able as the velvet of her emerald trousers. My palms remember exactly what those trousers feel like, exactly what her curves feel like through them.

'You look stunning.'

Joe attempts a smile through her anxiety. 'Thanks. You too.'

'Oh.' I glance at my frayed t-shirt and joggers. 'This is actually my date outfit.'

'Is it?'

'Yeah. People go mad for it. Especially the bonnet—it really ties the whole look together.' I flip the maroon satin the way Caleb does whenever he wears a long wig. My heart somersaults when Joe laughs.

New drinking game: Take a shot every time my love for her grows a new leaf despite the number of times I prune them.

'How were the date?' I hope I sound platonically curious.

She exhales slowly, staring at the cotton carnation between us. 'Um... It was good. But I don't think I'm ready for all that. I thought I was...'

Tears brim in her waterline and she groans at them. 'I feel like I'm running in place. No matter what I try, I'll never get away from her.'

I shift to the edge of my armchair to reach over the coffee table to place a hand on her knee. 'That's not true. Josephine, when I met you, you couldn't say thank you to a shop assistant without feeling guilty about it and now—I mean, just the fact that you were able to end the date when you realised that ya weren't ready for it—you would't've done that when I met ya. You should be proud of yourself.' I lean further to reach her hand and coax her glossy eyes up from the floor. 'I'm proud of you.'

Her gaze weaves with mine as I massage her knuckles.

'It was so easy with you,' she whispers. 'I suppose I didn't think of it as dating so it didn't feel so daunting. Does that make sense?'

'You're a well intelligent person, Josephine. You rarely say owt that don't make sense.'

I do my best to dab away her tears without ruining her makeup though I'm sure she's about to go wash it all off. She has applied shimmer to the inner corners the way I love again.

Take a shot.

'Is everyone else sleeping?' Joe asks, as if only now noticing their absence.

I nod.

'Why aren't you?'

Maybe some part of me couldn't relax until I knew she were okay and Bumble hadn't matched her with a murderer. Maybe another part of me couldn't relax because I were jealous and every time I shut my eyes I imagined the total peace that settles over her in the split-second before she comes except it were some effortlessly cool and androgynous Londoner between her legs.

This imaginary rival of mine don't appreciate the soft skin on the inside of her thighs or the way she ropes their hair around her wrist to use as leverage. Afterwards, my imaginary rival would talk about Tchaikovsky's contribution to queer culture or zyr family's second home in the Caribbean with an ocean view so picturesque you'd think it's photoshopped.

Thankfully I don't need to tell her any of this because Joe moves on. 'If I go to bed now, I'll just cry so... if you're willing to be tired tomorrow, I could show you some of my favourite places around here.'

I consider saying that having a cry when you need one is well healthy and she shouldn't avoid that but who am I kidding? I'll follow her anywhere she asks me to go. She could suggest we do a tour of every butcher in Greater London and I'd go with her (though would probably yosh once or twice).

            'Of all the places in London, the capital of this country, one of the world's major cities, this is your favourite?'

Joe huffs. 'Where did you want me to take you, the London Eye?'

We share a grin over Rishi's Eye of Sauron comment.

'No–' I scan the soggy bits of takeaway boxes and cigarette packs at my feet, kicking a bottle cap that rolls into the stone wall with a chime '–but this is a random bit of road.'

At least the first three places she took me to were actual places: Hampstead Heath Garden, a Barbie-themed bar where at least half of the shots had glitter in them, and Little Venice which were stunning with all the canal boats lit up. But this? Well, it ain't a butcher at least.

'It's not a "random bit of road".' Joe waves at the water of the Thames, painted iridescent. 'It's the spot with the most beautiful reflection of the lights at night. It's beautiful, right?'

'Yeah.' Her skin is almost as dark as the water; the lights bloom on her cheekbones too. 'It's beautiful.'

She smiles, tooth gems sparkling with the rhinestones in her hair, and turns to the river. Joe is still holding my hand. She grabbed it while we were rushing through Soho so we wouldn't get separated in the herds of London's Saturday nightlife but we're the only two people standing on this random bit of road between the Chelsea and Albert Bridges.

Joe must realise it too because she tugs her fingers from between mine as she steps closer to the embankment, both hands falling onto the stone railing that keeps us from falling in—hypothetically anyway. I doubt it'd do much if I were a tad more drunk; I've ended up in the Manchester Canal on several nights out. I'm about to tell her that when I rethink.

Joe is enchanted by the golden suspender cables of Albert Bridge and I'd sooner jump in the river intentionally than pull her focus elsewhere. She's right: it is the most beautiful spot. Her brown eyes were created for this, to be a canvas for lights she loves.

'It's my favourite bridge: Albert.' Joe says the name like one of a trusted friend. 'People are always on about the Tower Bridge but I've always thought Albert more handsome.'

I mimic her posture beside her, resting my hands on the stone wall and leaning into her body heat. The chilly wind that welcomed us to London some hours ago has eased and the lights cast onto the Thames quiver only enough to remind us they're alive.

'So, after the internship,' I start, forcing each word out though my tongue refuses to speak it into existence, 'are you moving back here?'

Joe don't look at me. 'No. I dunno. And it's not just Tamsin either. I think... I don't particularly miss it, if I'm honest. I think I need to be somewhere different, somewhere a bit further from my parents for a while to learn to do things on my own. And I've never had friends like you lot so I want to stick with that. London feels like such a bubble sometimes.'

It's merciful of her to include me in "you lot" but we're not mates anymore. I think that's the worst part.

Whether or not she returns to London, she'll leave Spectrum, either way. Maybe I'll only ever peripherally see her at Rishi and Caleb's parties from now on. Is this our last night before we become strangers?

Tonight has made me too weightless. The morning will break my heart all over again. 

A pub somewhere near us has a live band playing. The mellow tune escapes into the evening, a song that hums summat familiar at the back of my mind though I can't name it.

I push myself upright. 'D'you want to dance?'

'What?'

'Dance.' I offer her my hand.

Joe appraises me, head tilted to the side. Just as I'm about to cough some obvious lie about how it were a joke, she takes it.

Joe nestles into me as though it's a natural instinct. Our intersected hands rest on my chest, her other palm beneath my shoulder blades where it naturally falls. My thumb impresses the valleys and ridges of her knuckles into muscle memory. I'll be tracing them against my own every night for the coming months. The bottle caps click against the tarmac when we accidentally kick them as we rotate on the spot. The scents of her shampoo and perfume are somehow stronger here by the water.

Forget shots, I'll have to chug the whole bottle.

'You're perfect, Josephine. One day, someone will love you the way you deserve.'

She huffs, craning her neck to look at me without withdrawing from our shared body heat but the irritation dissolves when her gaze unites with mine. I want to plant myself into them, live forever in the soil that circles her pupils even if she forgets I exist.

Then I'm not thinking about her eyes but her lips, lips that are inching dangerously closer as Joe stands on her toes. Her hand slides from my shoulders to my neck and pulls me down. Not all the way. Gives me the chance to move away. I lean in instead.

It's a wonder my knees don't give in with the adrenaline that rushes through me when we kiss. The string of hearts bursts into new life, growing so quickly it's like I never sheared it in the first place. Each slide of Joe's lips over mine unfurls a new leaf until I have a garden of reckless tenderness that–

She steps back, eyes wide. 'I'm sorry.'

'That's alright.'

I tuck my hands into the pockets of my joggers and lean against the stone wall with my back to the river. I'll blame the lights. They hypnotised me or summat.

'It were my fault.'

Maybe the Barbie in Swan Lake shots are still in charge; Joe wouldn't kiss me like that sober, not anymore. Not now that she knows.

'I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my parents,' I say. 'I just didn't wanna be a fucking orphan for once in my life—I'm not even an orphan. It's worse.'

A humourless grin twists my mouth. I kick a plastic bottle cap from one foot to the other, allowing my focus to flee to the orange puck for a moment before I pull it back to the canyon in my chest.

'I should've told ya. You had the right to know how bad I am at this. You wouldn't've gotten all wound up in it if you knew.'

'Bad at what?'

'This. Loving people.' I dare to glance at Joe only for a second. I can't digest more than a teaspoon of pity from her. 'I always tell Cece that it wouldn't've made a difference what we were like: they were always gonna leave, they're the problem. But I'm not sure if that's true.'

Joe wavers but takes my hand again. 'Whatever their reason to go, Nicolás you're a wonderful person. You're kind, and caring, and you love people so openly no matter how much they resist. And no matter how much pain you have to deal with, you always open yourself up again. You've changed my life. You changed Caleb's life. You changed Cece's life. You love people so much.'

I smile but it tastes bitter. The mirage will rust eventually. Then she'll see how hard I have to work for a single petal.

Notes

We only have ten chapters of the book left! Thank you to everyone who has read this far <3 It means the world to me. Can't believe we're already reaching the end.