“Because it's a classic old guy who doesn't do social media thing—puttingthein front of things.TheInstagram,theTikTok,theFacebook.Nothing marks you as old and out of touch like sayingtheInstagram."
“Well, I guess I am old and out of touch."
I realize I'm out of coffee, so I take the phone with me to get more.But I need both hands, so I prop the phone against the ceramic jar containing the fresh grounds while I grab the creamer from the fridge…momentarily forgetting that she can see me like I can see her…and I'm in nothing but a pair of tight black boxer-briefs.When I come back to the coffee pot, Morgan's cheeks are red again, and she's looking down, not at the screen.
Which is when the penny drops—I look at the screen and realize that I've angled it so that as I approached the phone, all she could see was my torso from the chest down…and my crotch and thighs.Bulge clearly visible.And by bulge, I mean a very,veryclear outline showing exactly how affected I was by the little show moments ago, from which I'm still subsiding.
"So this is going well for both of us," I say, embarrassment likely making my cheeks as red as hers.
She clears her throat."Yeah.Yep."She tugs her robe together more tightly, not making eye contact.
"Morgan?You good?"
"Yup."
"Turnabout is fair play, I guess," I say."We both got an inadvertent show."
"Sure did," she mutters.
"We could just pretend this was all on purpose," I hear myself say, the words coming out before I have a chance to think better of it.
Her eyes flick to mine."Then I'm not sure how equal it is," she says."You saw my boobs.All I got was an outline."A pause, a hard swallow."A very…errrr…prominentand…um…impressive outline, it must be said, but still just an outline."
I'm stuck on "prominent and impressive" for a moment."I am shirtless," I point out, for lack of a better comeback.
"Yeah, but…" Her eyes rake my torso; I'm holding the phone at arm's length, showing my pecs and stomach, which is pretty flat and hard, if I do say so myself.I just don't have visible abs, unlike the absurdly shredded perfection of my son's physique."It's not the same."
"Guess not."
"Is this a weird time to bring up the, uh…the kiss?"she says.
I snicker."I mean, considering how this call has gone, I'd say maybe it's the perfect time to bring it up."
She meets my eyes through the screen."Was that a weird, like, one-off for you, or…" she swallows hard again, looks away."Or was it maybe something you, um…"
"I haven't stopped thinking about it," I cut in."Or you."
"Glad I'm not the only one," she says.
Silence—not awkward, but tense.
It's a heated, sparking, sexual tension.
And I have no fucking clue what do about it.
"I definitely won't be able to stop thinking about you now," I say.
"Same," she whispers.
"Morgan, I'd like to…" I trail off, take a couple of deep breaths, and try again."Could I see you sometime?"
"You're seeing me now," she says, smirking."A whole lot of me.More than anyone's seen of me in a very, very,verylong time."
"What I meant was I'd like to take you out on a date."
"I know," she breathes."I know what you meant."
"If I'm overstepping, I—"
