Page 41 of Scorpio Season

Their drinks arrive while Toni takes a hit. Luca curls her fingers around her glass, feeling the cool condensation against her palms as she focuses on the slow in and out of her breath. After a while, she can feel the tension in her shoulders seep out of her.

“This is nice,” Miray says after her second turn. Her smile is a little dopey. Luca laughs at the sight without really knowing why.

Her second hit is even easier than the first. When she’s done, she takes a sip from her mocktail, licking sugar from the rim. Florence’s eyes haven’t left her once in the last five minutes. Luca tilts her head at her. Her smile feels soft and far too open, but she can’t really find it in her to care.

“Does anyone want to play pool?” Izzy asks.

Luca nods, just so she has something to do with her hands. She takes her glass with her, balancing it precariously on the edge of the pool table.

“I’m not good at pool at all,” Luca says.

“That’s fine.” Izzy twirls the cue in her hands, the rings on her fingers glittering in the red light from the neon tubes on the wall. “Do your best, Rookie.”

Luca does. She really is terrible, but it doesn’t matter. At some point, Florence drifts over to them. Her palm finds the small of Luca’s back as the other hand holds the half-smoked joint to Luca’s mouth in a silent offering. Luca parts her lips and obediently takes a hit. When she sways into Florence, she can feel her body like a long line of heat against her back.

“Are you letting Izzy win on purpose?” Florence asks in her ear. Her voice is low and slightly hoarse. Luca doesn’t think she has ever heard a more attractive sound, which says a lot, considering she gets to hear Florence sing every other night.

“Ouch,” Luca says, without any feeling.

When it’s Luca’s turn again, Florence passes the joint off to Izzy and puts her hands on Luca’s hips to adjust her stance. Luca leans forward. The cue strikes the ball with a satisfying clack.

“Florence Elizabeth Gibson,” Izzy says, betrayed. Her accent is soaking every syllable of her speech by now. “That is foul play.”

Laughing, Florence lets go of Luca’s hips, leaving Luca feeling strangely bereft.

When the game is finished—Izzy wins, obviously—Luca retreats back to their table while Izzy goes outside to smoke a cigarette. Toni and Miray take over the pool table, leaving the bench free for Luca to drape herself across. She thinks she could fall asleep like this. Her head, for once, feels very quiet. It’s like someone poured syrup into her brain, leaving her thoughts all slow and sticky.

“Are you all right?” Florence’s voice sounds from somewhere above her.

Luca feels her mouth curving into an easy smile. “I’m great.”

The bench creaks as Florence sits down next to her. One of her hands slides to the nape of Luca’s neck, lifting her head until it rests in Florence’s lap.

Sleepily, she blinks up at Florence. “Oh,” she says dumbly. “Hey.”

Florence smiles. “Hi.”

“Are you all right?” Luca asks belatedly.

“I’m fantastic.”

Florence’s hand is so gentle as it slides into Luca’s hair, fingernails scraping against her scalp. Luca thinks she might be melting. She can smell Florence—the lemon perfume, again, mixed with sunscreen and sweat.

Eyes fluttering closed, Luca mumbles, “You always smell so good.”

Florence’s body vibrates as she laughs, too quiet to hear over the music from the speakers. “Thanks.”

“How many perfumes did you bring?” Luca asks, because apparently she’s just asking every question that comes into her head now. She’s too floaty to be alarmed by this development.

“Six,” Florence answers. One of her rings catches on a strand of Luca’s hair. The sting of it is nice—it reminds her of the way Florence pulled her hair when Luca went down on her. The memory makes arousal curl in her belly, but it’s easy to push aside when she feels like this. Just this is good. She could stay right here and let Florence play with her hair for the rest of her life, and it’d be enough.

“They’re not full-sized bottles, though,” Florence says. It takes Luca a moment to remember what they’re talking about. “They’re just the little testers you get sometimes. Too pricey, otherwise.”

Luca hums, nuzzling further into Florence’s touch. “How d’you decide which one to wear?”

“It just depends on my mood, I think.” Florence’s thumb brushes over Luca’s temple. “Is there one you like most?”

“No,” Luca says. “I like all of them.”