After that once, the girls didn’t talk about him again, but without the sense any more that there was something unspoken lying between them. A week passed, and Ellen allowed herself to imagine that maybe they wouldn’t see him again. Like maybe they weren’t that important, maybe he had other stuff going on. What if he was forgetful. What if he wasn’t even from around here. What if he went around giving people random assignments when he got bored and then just moved on.

There was no question about them keeping up makeout practice. Ellen wondered if they’d get tired of it after a while, if he didn’t show up again, or if they’d be like forty and still need to hook up every day. She didn’t want to get tired of it though, not anytime soon. Now that the cloud had lifted it was a new kind of closeness between them. They made up little kissing games to play with each other. How far could Ellen get with her poetry recitation while Tracy was frenching her ear. (Not far.) One time they’d gotten very silly licking letters onto each others’ cheeks for some reason and trying to guess the words.

That one really intense kiss they’d had though they hadn’t repeated. Ellen kind of doubted they ever would. She was mostly OK with that, she thought, even if every night when she went to sleep the kiss unrolled for her again, and she had to concentrate to resist touching herself.

Ellen sighed, shut her eyes to the afternoon glare and flopped her head back against the headboard. It was late, and she was trying not to stress. They’d quit coming back together every day; neither girl wanted people to get ideas. And there were extracurriculars to think of, mostly Tracy’s. But it left Ellen at the mercy of her girlfriend’s sense of time.

Ellen felt her impatience shimmer and collect to a small small point, where it stayed still for a while. After that she felt movement, and Tracy kneeling on the bed next to her.

She wanted to say something annoyed but when she opened her eyes Tracy had never looked more beautiful, and all she could do was smile like a complete dope and go, “hey.” And Tracy kissed her, hard, and all of Ellen’s impatience widened out into an eagerness. Tracy was fumbling to shed her backpack while their mouths kept riding each other and Ellen tried to help her with one of the straps and it ended up somehow with her hand cupped over Tracy’s breast. Tracy paused at that, and Ellen’s world slowed to a frightened crawl. But she was only gathering herself to make the kiss go deeper.

“Like, it’s not like our heads would explode or anything.”

Ellen’s head was resting on Tracy’s shoulder. The buttons on Tracy’s shirt had come undone. Ellen had hold of one and was plucking at it idly between her thumb and forefinger.

“Stroke of midnight or whatever.” Tracy sighed. “I did start getting anxious, though. Like, Farrell was droning on about supplies or whatever and all I could think about was what if I didn’t make it before your mom got home, like I was literally making up schemes about how I could sneak into your bedroom from the outside after dark.”

Catburglar Tracy. Ellen purred at the thought, and started kissing her friend in that spot she liked just below her ear. For a while that was the only sound in the room. The light declined. Time was passing, Ellen knew, but it seemed not to have anything to do with her.

She looked up just as the bedroom door pushed open, and her mother’s head poked in.

“MAAAAAaaaahm!” Ellen screamed, diving to bury her face in the pillow.

“Hey, Trace,” her mom said, sounding entirely unperturbed. “Hey, Mrs. Mac,” Tracy answered in a shellshocked monotone.

“Joyce sweetheart, please.” A hunk of pillow was clenched in Ellen’s hand. She was torn between wanting to turn and throw it at her mother and wanting to burrow through the pillow into the bed and under the floor.

“Honey, I’m sorry I’m so late,” Ellen heard her mom say. “I ordered takeout. I’m just gonna go warm it up, so what’s say, ten minutes?

“You too, Tracy, stay and eat with us, I bought way too much food.” Tracy made some inarticulate demurring noise and Joyce waved it away, “No, nonsense, I won’t hear of it, you’re staying for dinner. I’ll let your mom know” she called, already out the door and heading back towards the kitchen.

Ellen brought her face up off the pillow. Tracy was sitting upright now, staring vacantly towards the far wall. Her shirt was still undone. “Dude,” she rasped.

Ellen got herself onto her knees and looked towards the door, through the gap in it. Not that there was anything to see. How were they possibly off the hook with this? “Did she not—“ she started.

Tracy turned, and there was a weird gleam in her eye. “Dude,” she said breathlessly, “your mom was naked.”