When it went off, I hit the snooze far too many times and rolled out of bed groggy, frustrated, and kicking myself for staying up so late. At least when I slept, it had been sound and dreamless. Turning the shower’s hot water on, I prepared for a good long period of staring at the tile, trying to wake up.
Just as I was getting out, still sopping wet and smelling like someone had set fire to a bourbon distillery, I was startled by the sound of someone at my door. The knocking was light, and I thought it might just be a mail delivery or something that I could ask them to leave at the door. I wrapped the towel around myself and padded out there, staring through the peephole.
It wasn’t a mail carrier, though. It was Chloe, carrying a paper bag and a drink container.
Grinning, I opened the door, enjoying the reaction of Chloe’s surprised face when she saw me standing there in nothing but a towel and still dripping wet.
“Oh,” she said.
“Hey, Chloe,” I said. “Come on in.”
“Uhh,” she said, “is this a bad time?”
“No, no, it’s fine. Come on in. Is that coffee?”
Her eyes were roaming over my body, and I found myself loving it. Stammering, she looked down at her hands and seemed to see the bag and cup container for the first time. Then it dawned on her, and she looked back at me, making great visual pains to only look into my eyes.
“Yes. Coffee. And lunch.” She held up the bag. “I thought we could eat. And talk.”
“Alright then,” I said, moving aside so she could come in. As she brushed by me, I smelled the perfume that she had been wearing recently and felt my cock twitch. If I was going to stay decent, I was going to have to put on clothes before my towel unwrapped itself.
“I’ll be back in just a sec, okay? Make yourself at home,” I said.
She nodded, and I left the room, feeling her eyes on me as I walked into the bedroom and shut the door. But not all the way. Just in case.
Tossing on clothes that would be appropriate for work, I went back into the living room and sat down on the massive couch. She had spread out the lunch on the coffee table, and I realized just how hungry I was. My stomach rumbled when it caught sight of the burritos, and it dawned on me she had gone to a Mexican fast-food place.
“Gourmet this afternoon, huh?” I asked, holding up the bag.
“I had never been there,” she said sheepishly. “I always wanted to try it. The commercials made it look so good.”
“Their food is pretty incredible,” I said.
“I stopped by the one in the row of shops under the apartments across the street. They had a big sign that advertised their burritos and, well, this happened,” she said as she gestured vaguely at the table.
“I’ll be honest, I love this stuff,” I said. “I can make burritos with the best of them, but these guys are great. And they’re like a buck fifty. Can’t beat that.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she said. I realized she really didn’t know. The last few weeks had been a crash course on how much things cost. Before then she had always just swiped her parents’ credit card and never saw the consequence of spending money. Finding fast-food Mexican and the cheapness of it was like a rite of passage into adulthood.
We dug into some of the food, and I watched with glee as she tried each piece and freaked out about how much she liked it. It was adorable, and when she had put a few things away, and we were both into our second cups of coffee, our casual small talk seemed to come to an end. It had felt the entire time like she was waiting to say something, and I wanted to let her get to it on her own.
“So, I made a decision,” she said.
“Oh? Like what? You now officially like fast food more than five-star chefs?”
“Well, besides that,” she said. “Because this is ridiculously good. But no, it’s something else.”
“What?”
“My answer is yes. Let’s get married.”
I paused and watched as the silly grin spread across her face, feeling it spread across mine, too.
“Really?” I asked. “Alright.”
“We need to talk about how this will work and when we tell people,” she said.
“Uh-oh, that means someone might have found out.”
“How did you know?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Soul mates, I guess.”
I grinned, and she returned it. We both sipped our coffee, and I watched as deep red flushed up one side of her neck and colored her cheeks.
“Maybe,” she said. “I might have kind of blown the whole thing to Hannah. But I told her we weren’t engaged yet, or else she’d wonder where the ring is.”