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“The room was large and stifling, and, though it was already four o’clock, opening the windows admitted only a gust of hot shrubbery from the Park. Daisy went to the mirror and stood with her back to us fixing her hair.
‘It’s a swell suite,’ whispered Jordan respectfully and everyone laughed.
‘Open another window,’ commanded Daisy, without turning around.”
“There aren’t any more.”
“Well, we’d better telephone for an axe–”
“The thing to do is forget about the heat,” said Tom impatiently, “You make it ten times worse by crabbing about it.”
As Tom Buchanan crossed the room and started to unroll the whiskey from its towel, Nick Carraway felt the uncontrollable urge to trip him. Snickering softly to himself, he drew his leg up onto the chaise and fell with his head on Jordan Baker’s shoulder. She almost instinctively swatted him– he watched her shift her closest arm with restraint. However, when she finally made contact, it was to stroke the bridge of Carraway’s nose with her thumb, resting her whole hand over his forehead. She fanned herself with a free hand until it was held captive by one Daisy with jealousy in her face.
“Jordan!” she gasped, and despite the heat she scurried quickly and closely to Miss Baker’s side. She leaned over, pressed herself against Jordan, and cried in a high, excited voice, “It’s much too hot! Really, it’s much too hot to–”
“Shh,” Jordan cut in with her eyes half closed, pressing a finger to Daisy’s lips as Jay Gatsby looked on with humour in his face. Daisy, glancing back at him with only her eyes, giggled breathlessly. She waved him over, but so urgently it only looked as though she were fluttering her hand. Jordan groaned. How could she be so urgent in this heat?
“Oh, Jay, you too! Come on,” Daisy gushed, patting the sofa lightly, “Sit right here beside me.” Tom, who just had a glass to his lips, lowered it and spun around. His eyes were wide with a mixture of horror and confusion. But his wife only sat forward and blinked innocently, holding out her arms for Gatsby to sit in them a little while. She kissed his forehead when he went wordlessly to her, presumably to agitate Tom even further. Nick blinked with surprise. It was all so blatant. He’d never seen anyone act so out of turn, but perhaps the heat was stirring their minds into a delirious, self-indulgent soup.
“Daisy, stop this,” Tom snapped, “Let’s all go home. It’s too hot for–”
“I don’t want to go home, not yet,” Daisy replied sweetly, tilting her head, “Nobody said you couldn’t join, Tom.” The other three giggled tiredly. “Ooh! Let’s take a vote! Who wants to go home?”
“Not I,” Jay mumbled. He was staring blankly at the floor. Gently Daisy was scratching his head.
“Me neither,” drifted through the room in stubborn, languid assent, as Nick could have quite possibly been asleep and Jordan close to it. Jordan nestled her face in Daisy’s neck and smooched softly. Daisy immediately reacted, tipping back her head with pleasant surprise. Her eyes were closed. A hot gust of unhelpful air blew through the window and they all groaned, save for Tom, who winced. He was standing by the window anyway, detached from the rest of the group. Partially out of jealousy, partially out of aversion, he side-eyed the other four and crossed his arms as though that would help the heat any. Nothing could.
Jordan moistened her lips. Like she was not dripping sweat. Straightening, she tried to avoid Daisy’s gaze, calling out to the belligerent husband with a lazy, near contemptuous, “Tom Buchanan, don’t be a miser…”
He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, but Daisy was laughing. The laughter was long and clear as a bell, and she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Nick dazedly lifted his head, and Gatsby arched a delighted eyebrow at her exhilarated exclamation. “Oh, goodness, goodness, goodness! Can you even believe– believe that we’ve ended up like this, we five!” She mopped at her brow with a silken handkerchief and kicked her feet up on the table. “And what about those mint juleps, and those cold baths!” And then she fell asleep nearly upon the instant.
Jordan said, “Mmm…” She opened her eyes, closed them, and didn’t open them again. Her hair was pasted to her cheek, the one that was resting on Daisy’s head. Daisy herself was shiny. Gatsby blinked some wet out of his eyes, sighing affectionately. Nick rolled over to face the back of the couch. They were uncomfortably stuck to one another, half-dazed, exhausted. The only answer now, they presumed, was to take a nap.
Tom shuffled. He sat down on the crowded sofa rigidly, careful not to sit on Nick, though he really was impossible to avoid. At least they were all together now.