Her breath catches at the brush of Sabrina's lips, heat flushing her face and staining her cheeks just as pink, she thinks, as the rosy blush on Sabrina's face. The slow, building thing that's started between them, carried along as they went from the bench outside the club to right here, now, on the couch, deepens even further. Rosie welcomes it, more readily than she might have thought only a few hours before.

"It was wonderful before," she says. "Sometimes, wonderful because of...of things I didn't know could be so wonderful." She ducks her head and laughs, the fingers of her free hand tracing the curve of Sabrina's knee through the soft wool of the blanket. "You know what I mean."

When she looks up again, the flush is still on her face, her eyes bright and sparkling when they meet with Sabrina's. "I think you're right," she says. "It'll be better, and I want it. All of it."