We smoked a joint in our living-room afterwards. It was really nice. My husband and Ben in their underwear, Bette in my husbands hoodie and nothing else, me naked. Bette and I sat on the couch together while my husband played a little guitar and we all blabbed and giggled. She doesn’t identify as bisexual, isn’t so sure about the label, but she likes me, I can tell.

We passed the joint around and she stretched and rearranged herself so she was curled up on my lap with her head on my shoulder. I snuggled into her, smiled to myself. Her hair smelled so good, and I love how it felt to have it tumbling over my skin. She nuzzled against me and sighed. I’m a sucker.

I stroked her hair, running my fingers through it and gently massaging her scalp with my fingertips. She closed her eyes. My heart was in my throat. I hardly know her, but it felt so familiar to touch a woman this way. It made me ache.

And then she said something stoned and ridiculous and we all laughed and my husband played a happier song and she moved and the moment passed.

Just as moments do.