The bedroom.

Her bedroom, the small one with the wall of books and the window that looked over the street, because it was closer and neither of them was thinking about logistics.

He pushed the door open and she pulled him inside and he closed it and she reached for his t-shirt and he lifted his arms and she pulled it over his head and her hands spread across his chest immediately — warm and broad — and she pressed her lips to his collarbone and felt him inhale.

He reached for her top — her oversized Saturday top, the one she had been wearing all day, the one she...