Tara's hair is a dark beautiful mess on the pillow. Sweat glistens on her brow. She begins to laugh, heady, breathless. Lori sinks her grin into the crook of Tara's long neck, shivering. Her fingers smell like sex. They smell divine.
"I think it was you all along. I mean, I thought you were smokin', but I think I kind of liked Alan because--"
"Lori. Baby. You're doing it again."
"Let's at least pass the Bechdel Test now that we're together, okay?"
"Okay. What do you say to ice cream in bed?"
"I think I love you."