Her life! GxG! Intersex! (Book 1)

81

The elevator gave its soft, familiar ding as it reached the penthouse floor. Megan stepped out first, her hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up and her shoes swapped for well-worn sneakers that had seen more dance floors than gyms. Behind her, Abigail followed—jacket slung over one arm, her curls slightly frizzy from the night's humidity, and her cheeks still flushed from a few too many shots.

"Don't trip on the welcome mat," Megan muttered playfully, steadying Abigail with one hand.

"I'm fine," Abigail whispered like a conspirator, eyes wide. "I'm as sober as a... cat."

Megan snorted. "That's not even close to a saying."

"I know," Abigail said, grinning as they reached the door. "But it felt right."

The door creaked open quietly—Megan's key still in hand—and inside, the penthouse glowed with the gentle light of a paused TV screen. On the couch, Emma and Ashley sat wrapped in a soft gray blanket, a bowl of popcorn resting between them. Emma was still in Abigail's oversized tee, her curls pulled into a loose puff, while Ashley wore joggers and a hoodie, one foot tucked under the other.

Ashley looked up first. "And they return."

Emma's lips curved into a slow smile the moment she saw Abigail. "I was starting to think y'all ran off to Vegas."

Abigail made a beeline for her, her steps a little uneven, and nearly tripped on the corner of the rug—but she caught herself, dropped her jacket, and slid onto the couch beside Emma like she was sinking into home.

"Ooooh," she hummed dramatically, resting her head on Emma's shoulder. "You smell like heaven and trust."

Emma laughed and kissed her temple. "You're drunk."

"She's very drunk," Megan added, collapsing into the loveseat beside Ashley. "But in the best way. She turned down three girls and two guys tonight."

Ashley's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, what?"

Emma blinked, shifting so she could look at Abigail properly. "Seriously?"

Abigail nodded with the utmost sincerity, snuggling closer. "All of them tried. One girl even asked me to dance. I told her—verbatim—'I'm spoken for, my girl's pregnant and probably making tea right now.'"

Emma laughed so hard she almost snorted. "I was making tea."

"Told you," Abigail murmured proudly. Then she kissed Emma's cheek. And her jaw. Then her neck.

Emma's breath caught slightly at the softness of it, and she leaned into the affection, one hand moving to cradle the back of Abigail's head. "You're affectionate when you're tipsy."

"I'm affectionate always," Abigail whispered. "But especially when I miss you."

Megan peeked over at them. "She also told the bartender she was taken and tipped her five bucks just for agreeing with her."

"Ten bucks," Abigail corrected between more kisses—slow, lingering ones along Emma's collarbone. "It felt important."

Ashley reached for the popcorn. "You rejecting people in a club like it's a full-time job is my new favorite thing."

Emma chuckled, her fingers brushing through Abigail's curls. "I love you."

Abigail's lips paused just over her collarbone. "Say it again."

"I love you."

"I love you too," Abigail murmured, kissing the words into her skin like a secret promise. Then she let out a happy little sigh and nuzzled her nose into Emma's neck.