"I don't know for sure if they're coming, Mom."
Morgan closes the clamshell."Curfew is one.Best behavior in the theater.Check in after the movie."
Mallory sends a text, her thumbs moving with blurring speed."Thanks, Mom!Love you.Gotta go get ready."
Morgan's eyebrows shoot up."Wait, you're putting on real clothes?"
Mal flips her off."Yes, Mother."
"You must really like this Grayson kid."
Mallory doesn't answer, but Morgan is laughing anyway."She hates it when I tease her about the pajamas business."
"The what?"
She indicates the stairs, meaning Mallory."She wore that to school."
My eyes fly wide."Shedid?"
A nod."And a version of that pretty much every day.It's, like, the unofficial school uniform these days.It irks me, personally.When I was in high school, you worked hard to look fashionable.You had to wear the right brands, the latest styles, all of that.At the risk of sounding like a grandmother, the kids these days dress like every day is a slumber party.I just don't get it.But…I don't have to.It doesn't hurt anything, so it's not worth the fight trying to make her change.But the fact that she's changing to go see a movie with her friends when a boy she likes is coming?That'sa big deal."
A horn honks from the driveway, and Mallory thunders down the stairs, grabbing a small crossbody bag from the counter by the short hallway to the garage.She’s wearing fitted blue jeans, a cream sweater with a deep dip in front, and ankle boots.
She grabs a thick red Canada Goose parka from the back door and pauses to kiss Morgan on the cheek while shrugging into it."I'll be back by one, I'll check in after the movie, and I'll behave myself."
"Have fun!"Morgan calls as Mallory heads out the door.She turns on me once the door has closed."I'm sorry for her inappropriate—"
“Don't be," I interrupt.
She shakes her head."She's way too much like me, sometimes.All attitude, no filter."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
She doesn't answer as she collects the empty clamshells and tosses them in the trash.Washes her hands.Wipes down the counters.Washes her hands again.
"Morgan."
Drying her hands for the second time, she turns to glance at me."Hmmm?"
"You're putzing."
She frowns, opening a small drawer and dabbing lotion onto her hands."I'm sorry, I’m what?"
"Putzing.Doing random shit either because you're thinking about something or because you have nervous energy."
Not looking at me, she goes to a stack of mail and straightens it."I am not."
I move behind her, grab her hands."You are.It's adorable.But I have other uses for these hands."
She leans back against me."Noah…"
I guide her hands back and up overhead, and she slides her fingers into my hair, turns her mouth to mine.I kiss her, softly, slowly, gently."Hi."
She smiles, mouth brushing mine."Hi there."She spins in place and I lift her to sit on the counter.She hooks me with her heels and pulls me into the V of her thighs.She's dressed cozy—thick, fleece-lined leggings, thick wool socks, a long-sleeve tee, and a knit wool cardigan.
"Noah, there's something I think we need to discuss."
"Uh-oh," I say, caressing her thighs."Not loving the sound of that."
