@rude-at-your-service
This isn’t weird, right?
It feels weird.
Her apartment is normally absolutely silent in the morning, early sunlight breaking through the open window that faces the harbor, the distant shape of fishing boats out at sea a peaceful sight.
Today, though, she hears movement in the bedroom, and there are deliberately two coffee mugs full of coffee instead of just one.
That’s not weird. That’s polite. It’s the polite thing to do when the guy you’re sort of dating spends the night for the first time, right?
Is it dating, if their relationship up to this point has been primarily layovers at various points across the globe, a few hours here and there? Lunch once at a crappy Esthari airport bar. Hardly dates, if you ask her.
Rude emerges, and she glances up, feeling like it might have been a better choice to put on actual clothes, rather than the tank top and shorts she normally slept in. “Morning. There’s coffee. I don’t have any food in the fridge, but there might be a box of cereal somewhere if you’re hungry.”
Which is not unusual for someone who works a hundred hours a week and eats primarily whatever the cafeteria has available. Now that she thinks about it, the cereal might actually be a box of wheat crackers.
Whatever.
“Did you sleep okay?”
