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Morgan smiled again. Chloë was good at this. She obviously realized that senses like smell and taste are different for every person and so she wasn’t telling them “You will smell blueberry”; she was merely sharing that blueberry is what she smelled and that maybe they would too, but she was allowing them to make that discovery on their own.
Also, not for the first time, Morgan was thinking that Chloë’s voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. From what she could see of Chloë’s face above the mask, nor did Morgan recognize her. Nonetheless, it was there …a niggling little notion that she had encountered Chloë before somewhere.
“I smell lemon in this one,” Naomi said.
“I do smell blueberry but I also smell something mossy,” Patty offered.
Morgan saw Chloë nod and sniff her own mug of the Yurgi-whatever.
“Yeah, I get that mossy scent too, now that you mention it. Great job,” she said to Patty, who blushed and stared at Chloë for a few moments. Morgan felt a flash of jealousy. She sniffed her coffee again. There was no mossy scent! Well, maybe a little, she eventually conceded. It didn’t stop her from feeling that Patty was probably showing off for Chloë.
And why do I care?
***
The coffee tasting ended about half an hour later and Morgan was incredibly grateful that it was Friday night because she was unbelievably wired f
rom all the caffeine and chocolate. Thank goodness she didn’t have to work tomorrow, although she had planned on reading and grading the essays her 12th-grade AP Fine Literature class had had to submit by today. Considering how much her entire nervous system was buzzing now, she felt as if she could read all seventeen essays before sunrise tomorrow.
“What did you think?” Naomi asked as they gathered up their things.
“So much fun!” Morgan exclaimed, meaning it. Over the course of the past hour, she had not only tasted some amazing coffees from Africa, Turkey and South America, she had also remembered how much fun it is to hang out with a bunch of women, with no men in sight. “This was such a unique experience.”
“You should come with us every month, then,” Naomi added. She leaned in close and whispered, “And I think Amanda has a crush on you.”
Morgan felt herself redden. She swatted her friend’s arm.
“Don’t worry,” Naomi added, laughing. “I’ll set her straight—no pun intended—later.”
“Thank you,” Morgan said. “Not that I’m not flattered, but obviously—”
“Miss Banks?” a new voice interrupted.
Morgan blinked in surprise at noticing Chloë standing right next to her.
“Um, yes!” she answered, and then frowned. “How did you know…?”
“It’s me, Chloë Marchand. From Barrington Woods High? I had you for AP Fine Lit my senior year?”
Morgan’s mouth dropped open and she didn’t even try to hide the fact that she now looked Chloë up and down, even though all through the tasting event she had found herself staring at her so often she practically had her form memorized.
This was Chloë Marchand?
What the fuck!
“Oh my God, Chloë, it so good to see you!” Morgan squealed and—Covid be damned—she pulled her former pupil in for a hug. Completely unbidden, Morgan closed her eyes at the feeling of warmth that suddenly radiated through her body.
When she had last seen her, Chloë had been a tomboy-ish girl with floppy black hair that had bangs which all but obscured her eyes, and an inexplicable taste in the grunge fashions that Morgan remembered none-too-fondly from the 90s.
But the person Morgan was hugging now was an incredibly beautiful and feminine woman who not only had those amazing legs Morgan hadn’t been able to keep her eyes away from during the coffee tasting, but also soft and sensuous curves that Morgan had never noticed six years ago when Chloë was in her classroom because of all the loose-fitting clothes Chloë favored.
It feels amazing hugging her like this!
Before she had a chance to unpack where that thought came from, Morgan pulled away. When they separated, Morgan turned to Naomi.
“Chloë, this is my best friend, Naomi.”
“Hi,” Chloë said.
