Wendy and Nick
When Nick took his finger in his warm hand, Wendy felt something odd and feral spark off in his stomach. He recognized it, in a way, because he had felt something akin to it when James had drawn him into that broom closet. But James had not been warm like this. And memory, Wendy found, was unreliable: it faded, especially the memory of sensations like touching. It took him by surprise and he blinked furiously, trying to get his bearings. His hand hung in the air, suspended by Nick's motion.
He felt Nick's voice close to him, hot breath tickling his ear. "T-them? Sasha?" Wendy turned his head sideways to glance at Nick. "Sasha does like boys," which was a big a grasp Wendy had on Sasha's sexuality. "How? We cannot lock them in an elevator."