I connected to the latter network and made sure the company chat program showed that I was online. Then I dug into my soup. It was hot, and creamy, and instantly made me feel a little bit better.
“The digital age really sucks,” Ginny said while blowing on a spoonful of soup. “It’s tough to justify taking a full sick day when you can work from home with a laptop.”
“As your boss, I give you full permission to take a sick day,” I replied. “We have PTO for that reason. Our work isn’t too crucial; it can wait until you get back.”
“It’s fine.” She swallowed the soup, then gestured with her spoon. “I don’t want to get behind on my grants. Plus, I’m notthatsick. It’s just a cold. If I had the flu, or COVID, you bet your ass I would be passed out in bed with my laptop closed.”
“Fair enough.” I looked around the living room, which was so small that it seamlessly connected into the kitchen. “Your place is nice.”
Ginny gave me a skeptical look. “You can tell me the truth.”
“Okay, it’s kind of a dump. But it’s clean!”
“See? That’s a good compliment, and true, too. I can’t control how nice my place is, but Icancontrol how tidy I keep it.” She rubbed my thigh. “I’m really glad you came over. Being sick together is better than being sick alone.”
“You’re just saying that because I brought you hot soup.”
She paused. “Maybe a little.”
I laughed, and she leaned into me lovingly before turning her attention back to her soup. I ate mine while smiling at her. Should I tell her how I feel? I suddenly felt compelled to. There wouldn’t be a better time than now, while we were both sick. Then she would know I meant it, rather than simply thinking with my penis.
As soon as I considered it, I was bombarded with doubt. What if she didn’t feel the same way? What if she got upset? What if she insisted we keep things casual, the way she had made clear when we first hooked up?
I didn’t know what I should say to her. But I knew I needed to saysomething.
“Oh!” she suddenly blurted. “Did you see the car outside?”
“What car?”
“The same car that was at the pink house yesterday. The black SUV.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t see anyone out front.”
“It’s not out front. It’s on the side street, where my bedroom window faces. I’m pretty sure the driver was looking through a camera lens or something.”
Grateful for the distraction from my thoughts, I put down my soup. “Let me see.”
I followed her over to her bedroom door, which was closed. “I need to tidy up real quick. Stay here.”
“Afraid I’ll judge you if your room is messy?”
“Something like that. Just wait a second.”
She opened the door just enough to slip inside without me seeing anything. I heard soft shuffling, and a metallic clicking noise like equipment being folded up. Then the door opened. “Okay, it’s safe for visitors. Come on in.”
“Got rid of the guy that was hiding in here?”
“I sure did,” she said. “I pushed him out the window. Good thing he landed on the fire escape.”
I laughed at the joke… but then my grin disappeared.
As I walked into the room, my entire body and mind went numb. I gave myself a shake. It was like being on the set of my favorite TV show. The exposed brick walls. The queen-sized bed with the poofy white comforter. The beige headboard, and the bedside tables. The new lamp she had replaced a few weeks ago.
On the other side of the room was a computer desk. The side where my view always came from. There wasn’t a webcam or anything, but there was a cardboard box under the desk that looked like it had equipment inside.
As I gazed around the room that I was so familiar with, my eyes settled on the artwork above the bed. The splotchy pink painting, unframed. I knew that painting as well as anything in my life, because it was usually fully visible above the woman who was putting on a show on that very bed. The woman I had been obsessed with for months. The realization sank in with shocking clarity.
It’s her.Ginny is ThiccGinger.