Eventually Arielle abandons the table in favor of the floor in front of the TV, and Orissa spends the next half hour sipping at her second glass of wine and cleaning up the mess she made earlier, trying desperately not to think about how nice it would be to have someone to talk to, to lean against; someone to flick water at and laugh and steal soft kisses with. She tells herself firmly that she isn't thinking about anyone in particular, that it's just a general desire for company, a fantasy to stave off the loneliness. She tells herself it doesn't matter that the man she imagines is tall and thin, with ridiculous hair and a warm, flirty smile.
"Stop it," she mutters to herself, finishing off the last of her wine. "Just stop it."