Nico is very lucky. But it’s not luck that devils were waiting for Nico as soon as she got off the plane. It’s love. It’s the thing in her that tastes like honeysuckle, something that’s not just for the boys and the girls.
But it’s also for the boys and the girls, like Marie. Marie gets as much as she wants, because Nico never says stop. Marie can just do whatever and there’s no limit to it, not because Nico has so much to give, but because of what it takes to get anything at all out of her.
Marie’s apartment, when Nico finally drags her bags up the stairs to it, is unbelievably hot in the cool floral spring. It should be impossible to have a smoldering august apartment in march, sweat hanging in the air around the stacks of horror movies and discarded clothes. Marie smiles at Nico as she tries to make space on the floor for her things. Nico starts to say something. Marie lets her, and climbs up from the couch. She touches Nico’s shoulder. Nico forgets what she’s saying. Marie touch Nico’s shoulder the same way she holds her throat, the same way she reaches in Nico’s chest and messes her insides up.
Nico looks at Marie’s hand like if she tries hard enough she can this aggression as annoying and obnoxious as it should be. It doesn’t work at all.
Marie does whatever she wants.