Amber slipped slices of whole grain bread into the toaster oven; she wouldn't need more than two, herself, but Eric was a big boy, and who knew how many he'd wolf down. Cramming in so many would only just heat them up, not toast them properly, but it was what she could do. She let the oven do its thing while she gathered, in the living room, the small odds and ends she needed for the day: keys, wallet, purse.
Looking up, she caught Eric going through his own neatening up process. Yesterday he'd invited her to leave her things, if she wanted to. It seemed pointless to say, because of course he could, but maybe he needed to hear it. Amber didn't know, this beginning relationship stuff was new to her. She didn't know the rules, aside from what she'd been forced to see in chick flicks and the occasional shows she flipped through on tv. "You can leave your stuff here." She paused, tilting her head, awkward. How did one say something like this? Maybe he didn't want to. But if he said she could leave hers at his, why wouldn't the reverse be true? Anyway. "If you want." God, this was stupid. He was grown enough to know the decision was up to him, she couldn't make him.
Amber headed-- perhaps stomping a little-- back into the kitchen, to collect the only-partially toasted bread and slip into them into a plastic container. Hopefully she could steal a moment at the hospital to seek out better provisions. And that was it, for now; the rest she'd clean up when she came back. Whenever that would be. Following their pattern, it was her turn to spend the night at his; but-- she had so much to do. All her clothes scattered on the floor, dirty bed sheets and other laundry to clean, the groceries she'd bought to consume... and she was falling behind on her reading.
Amber watched Eric, once more transformed in his suit. It always made such a difference, him going from the warm, intimate naked Eric to his professional self. At least he was still hot in a suit and a tie. "Let's go," she said, once he seemed ready, and unlocked her door.
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Looking up, she caught Eric going through his own neatening up process. Yesterday he'd invited her to leave her things, if she wanted to. It seemed pointless to say, because of course he could, but maybe he needed to hear it. Amber didn't know, this beginning relationship stuff was new to her. She didn't know the rules, aside from what she'd been forced to see in chick flicks and the occasional shows she flipped through on tv. "You can leave your stuff here." She paused, tilting her head, awkward. How did one say something like this? Maybe he didn't want to. But if he said she could leave hers at his, why wouldn't the reverse be true? Anyway. "If you want." God, this was stupid. He was grown enough to know the decision was up to him, she couldn't make him.
Amber headed-- perhaps stomping a little-- back into the kitchen, to collect the only-partially toasted bread and slip into them into a plastic container. Hopefully she could steal a moment at the hospital to seek out better provisions. And that was it, for now; the rest she'd clean up when she came back. Whenever that would be. Following their pattern, it was her turn to spend the night at his; but-- she had so much to do. All her clothes scattered on the floor, dirty bed sheets and other laundry to clean, the groceries she'd bought to consume... and she was falling behind on her reading.
Amber watched Eric, once more transformed in his suit. It always made such a difference, him going from the warm, intimate naked Eric to his professional self. At least he was still hot in a suit and a tie. "Let's go," she said, once he seemed ready, and unlocked her door.