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They didn’t speak, but then they didn’t need to. With one hand still holding hers, Ashley pushed the button for her floor. The elevator began its silent rise. Once, the hand in hers trembled lightly. She found it unbearably exciting. The numbers above their heads flashed ponderously until at last the car stopped. When the doors slid open they stepped into the carpeted hall together.

Spencer heard the key jingle against loose change as Ashley reached into her purse. She heard the click of the lock before Ashley released her hand. The choice was still hers. She stepped out of the light into the dimness of the room. It smelled of her. That was her first thought. The air carried Ashley’s lingering fragrance. Something sharp, something vital. Something she had never forgotten. All at once her nerves began to jump. The poise that had carried her this far fell away. Searching for something to say, she wandered the room. It was untidy, with a shirt thrown here, shoes tossed there. She knew if she opened the closet, she would find a neat stack of rackets, the only semblance of order. Instead, she moved to the window. Rain ran like tears down the glass.

"It’s going to storm all night." As if to accent her words, lightning split the sky. Spencer counted to five, then heard the thunder answer. Hundreds of lights spread through the darkness. The city was there, crowded, moving—distant. Staring through the wet glass, she waited for Ashley to speak.

Silence. The patter of rain on the window. The distant hum of traffic. Another moan of thunder. Unable to bear it, Spencer turned. Ashley was watching her. The small bedside lamp threw both light and shadow into the room. Her stance was neither relaxed nor threatening, and she understood. She had given her a choice before she entered. Now Ashley wouldn’t let her go. A bridge had been burned. Spencer felt nothing but relief that the decision was already made. But her fingers were numb as she reached to loosen the thin belt at her waist.

Crossing to her, Ashley laid her hands over Spencer’s, stopping the movement. Spencer stared up at her, unsure, as nervous as the first time. Without speaking Ashley took her face in her hands to study her. She wanted to remember Spencer this way—in shadowed light with the fury of a storm at her back. Her eyes were dark with traces of fear, traces of desire. In a gesture of surrender Spencer’s arms had dropped to her sides. But Ashley didn’t want surrender—perhaps Spencer had forgotten.