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This time it was Morgan’s turn to throw a sugar packet at Chloë.
“I was wondering when you were going to bring how old I am into this!”
***
After dinner they ended up back at Morgan’s house and Morgan, not wanting the night to end, invited Chloë in for a drink.
Just a drink. One, maybe two.
“We still need to finish this Ikea thing,” Chloë said, coming into the foyer and spotting the box containing the one remaining item to be assembled.
“I know,” Morgan said with a sigh, looking at the boxes herself. “Or maybe I should just grow up and put the damn thing together myself. Anyway, let’s make ourselves comfortable in the living room.”
“You never gave me a tour of your house last night,” Chloë said.
Morgan stopped.
“Didn’t I?”
Shaking her head, Chloë said, “Nope. I came in and you immediately put me to work like the hired help I was.”
Morgan crossed her arms, balancing her weight on one leg.
“I seem to remember you being the bossy one, Miss Marchand. Besides, I also recall paying you.”
“Right,” Chloë agreed. “Two very nice kisses.”
“I was actually thinking about the pancakes,” Morgan retorted, feeling herself blush a little.
“Oh, yes, the pancakes,” Chloë said, acting as if it had completely slipped her mind. “Those were so good too.” She gave Morgan a piercing look. “Bodes well, actually.”
Morgan felt her heart jump. But she maintained her composure.
“Bodes well, why?” she asked.
Chloë smirked as she said, “It’s just nice to know you’re skilled at making breakfast.”
Morgan laughed.
“Oh my god, you are such a flirt!”
“Well, we are on a date, Miss Banks.”
Chloë then turned away from Morgan, pirouetting expertly on her heels, causing the hem of her dress to flounce up a bit, providing Morgan such a tantalizing glance of her thighs that Morgan licked her lips as she watched Chloë move deeper into the house.
“Tour, Miss Banks!”
***
The tour ended upstairs in Morgan’s bedroom.
Wait…did I plan it this way?
She could have started the tour upstairs, after all; showing Chloë her bedroom first, then the guest room which as of now was empty except for several boxes she still had to unpack. Instead, here she was, standing in her bedroom with Chloë, the tour completed. And it struck Morgan now just how neat her room was. Not that she was an untidy person, per se, but she had tried on several outfits before Chloë arrived to pick her up and, going against her grain, had actually hung the rejected garments back up before leaving the house. Why had she done that? What’s more, her bed was made to almost military standards. Usually, Morgan satisfied herself each morning with simply smoothing the comforter over the sheets in a semblance of tidiness. Now, however, the bed looked like it could pass inspection from a drill sergeant. Why had she done that?
“I probably shouldn’t have another drink, by the way,” Chloë said.
“Huh? What?” Morgan mumbled, snapping out of her reverie.
