If I could justtellit flowers weren’t a threat, everything would’ve been fine. The human body had some serious design flaws.
“The drowsiness goes away,” I said belatedly as Morgan got in the driver’s side, not wasting any time turning the engine over. “After an hour or so. I normally take them first thing when I get up, then by the time I’ve had breakfast and a shower I’m pretty awake.”
“Noted,” Morgan said. “You gonna need them on this trip?”
“I’m guessing yes. We’re staying in the literal forest, there’ll be pollen everywhere. For the record, I’m personally offended that plants refuse to have sex behind closed doors like civilized people.”
Morgan snorted, turning onto the main road. “Not a fan of exhibitionism, then?”
“Mine, or other peoples?” I asked, a little thrill running through me at the thought of discussing sex with Morgan. We’d had lots of conversations over the years, but none of them about anything likethis.
Boyfriend practice, I told myself. It was important that we were comfortable discussing sex things. Even hypothetically. Even about plants.
“That seems like a dangerous question to answer,” Morgan said. “Aiden says you got your nipples pierced.”
I’d almost forgotten entirely about the piercings—I was used to them now, they were justpartof me—but they were suddenly the only part of my body I could feel.
“Does he?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.
I could flirt. It was okay to flirt with a man I was supposed to be dating.Practice.
“He does,” Morgan confirmed with a slow nod. “Did you?”
“Wouldn’tyoulike to know?” I asked, because I wanted the answer to beyes, I want to know.
It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t eventually see anyway—especially since we were about to share space for an extended period—but I wanted to hear it.
“Fine, don’t tell me,” Morgan said.
My stomach dropped. He didn’t sound offended. He didn’t sound like he cared at all.
Of course he didn’t. He was only asking out of curiosity, and he wasn’tthatcurious about my nipples.
I went quiet, checking my emails on my phone and only looking up when Morgan turned some music on, too quiet for me to immediately identify it.
“You’re welcome to take charge,” he said. “Just figured you wouldn’t wanna sit here in silence for the whole drive.”
“Is this… classical?” I asked, wondering how surprised I should be. Morgan had a degree in English Literature and I hadn’t known that until a handful of weeks ago.
He had depths I hadn’t plumbed yet.
Plumbed? Was that the word?Whywas that the word?
Morgan would’ve known. He was sosmart.
And I wasn’t.
Morgan chuckled. “It’s Queen’s greatest hits,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. My Queen knowledge was shaky, but I was pretty sure this wasn’t them. I was almost certain there were no bassoon players in Queen.
“As played by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra,” Morgan clarified. “If you don’t like it, change it. The instructions to connect your own phone are in the glove compartment.”
“No, uh. I think Idolike it,” I said, giving the music another handful of seconds to grow on me.
“Thought it kinda worked as a road trip playlist,” Morgan said shyly, tapping his fingers on the wheel in time with the music. “But you don’thaveto like it.”
“I like it,” I said more decisively. Morgan was right, it totally worked as a roadtrip playlist.
