"Se-secret? No, no there isn't— I mean, me and Mary are close, but it's not like that, not girlfriend close, not since— ahem. She's— I mean no." He was scrambling, he could hear it. So not smooth, Much! But yeah he knew what summers in New York could be like, and yeah he knew hot, and last summer had been packed full with heat, and there'd been moments of it – a lot of moments – that had been so good. Mary in the back alley, Freyja and her swords, Qebhet in the storm...
And Lust. Lust Lust Lust Lust Lust. (And him breaking down on Mary. And him breaking down on Qebhet.) Much swallowed, hard, trying to push any thoughts of Lust and anything post-Lust away, because Marcie's hand had touched his knee and her teeth were doing things to her lip and hoo boy.