Morgan
* * *
Rory resting her head against my shoulder is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me all day—yeah, more than discovering I practically robbed my brother and got Rory her dream car—until I realize she’s asleep.
Did I intentionally pick a super long movie so that it would be too late for her to ride home at the end?
Maybe.
But I genuinely did not expect her to fall asleep in the middle of it.
There’s an empty pizza box on the coffee table, and Rory’s boots and jacket are on the floor and rack, respectively, by the front door. I had pulled out a blanket, hoping for a cuddling opportunity, but Rory’d tucked herself into a cocoon.
And then Princess had sat on her other side, and I didn’t have the heart to kick her off when Rory started petting her.
After an exciting day, I guess it’s no surprise she was tired. Slumped against me, she’s soft and warm. She smells good too, something that’s not floral but nutty and creamy.
I let her snooze on my shoulder until the credits roll, and then I carefully turn sideways, keeping her head on my shoulder but shifting so I can get my arms under her and pick her up.
She grunts, and I stand in the middle of my living room holding her until she settles down. She’s warm and dead weight in my arms, and I like it.
I like the domesticity, too. In another world, where Rory was my girlfriend, I’d carry her to my bed. I’d wake her up with tender kisses and exploring hands, and she’d let me in.
Instead, Rory’s my fake fiancée.
Princess hops off the couch and follows me into Rory’s room.
I carefully set Rory down on the bed, her head on a pillow, but she immediately shifts and stretches, blinking up at me.
“Did I fall asleep?”
“Yeah. Go back to sleep.”
She sighs, but then sits up, her eyes barely slitted open. “Have to pee.”
I let Princess out for her bathroom break too, and when I come inside, I hear the sounds of Rory brushing her teeth. I change into my sleep clothes and linger in the hallway.
When the door opens, she’s just as bleary-eyed as before, but now she’s pantsless. My gaze travels down from her tight black T-shirt to her matching underwear and socks. “Bed” is all she says. She leaves the door open as she climbs onto the bed and under the covers.
The bedside lamp is still on, and she makes no move to turn it off. She might be asleep again already.
I tiptoe in and click the light off myself. I’m about to pull the door shut behind me when Rory calls out, “Morgan?”
“Yeah?” I swing the door back open enough to poke my head in.
“Thanks for making my room prettier,” she mumbles into her pillow.
I smile in the dark. “You’re welcome. Good night, Rory.”
In the morning, I’m awakened by a phone blaring somewhere inside my house. I hear a hushed voice and Princess, sleeping next to me on the bed, grumbles.
“I know,” I tell her, sitting up. “But it’s Rory. Her sleep schedule is different from ours.”
But I’m not going to miss out on a chance to spend time with her. Plus I feel like if I don’t get up she might sneak off without saying goodbye.
Princess reluctantly follows me, and whatever feelings she has about getting up early must not be too bad because her tail goes bananas behind her when she spots Rory at the kitchen table on the phone.
“Good morning,” I call out.
