Iwoke up alone in the bedroom. Naked in bed, blinds down and shower running. Where were my clothes? I chuckled thinking about the walk of shame back to my hotel. It was just sex. I could get up and leave right now, and it wouldn’t mean anything except sex. I pulled the sheet tighter to my chest.
The water turned off, and Jordan walked to the bed with a shirt and sweatpants for me to wear.
“Don’t run away yet,” he said.
“Okay.” I worried about what comes next in a one-night stand.
He pulled on some shorts and a shirt and strolled into the other room.
“Do you like cream in your coffee? I can’t remember,” he called.
How should I think about this? I just slept with Jordan. It was amazing, but what happens next? Do I eat breakfast and say thank you?High five?
I went to the bathroom and did a look in the mirror. I was okay. I ran my fingers through my blonde hair.
Washing my face and hands, I put on the sweats. They were huge, so I had to roll them up on my waist. They smelled like his laundry detergent. Jordan had picked my clothes up and laid them on the chair by the bed.
I went out to the kitchen. The smell of roasted coffee beans in mugs of goodness filled my senses. Jordan handed me a mug of coffee and cooked breakfast. An image came to my head—Dave passing me a cup of coffee, kissing me on my head as he and Emily rushed out the door. I relished these memories, and they were fleeting as I kept them away when I was working. But I wasn’t working. I was with Jordan. He was making us breakfast after a night of—I shouldn’t define it. We were just friends. I took a deep sigh and glanced at him. Tall, confident and with an aura of happiness that in certain moments was contagious. He infiltrated my thoughts as I studied him.
He worked in the kitchen, and I considered him. His legs, muscular and tan. He ran in the mornings. I knew this because I caught up to him once on my walk to the Jefferson Memorial. While stirring and flipping, he pulled my hand towards him and wrapped me in a hug.
“You seem right today. Relaxed.”
“That’s correct.” I snuggled tighter to him, lighter in his arms. The baggage I carried, my work, had disappeared. I wasn’t thinking about the decision in the Obi case or the other cases I had pending next week. Jordan held on to me, flipped the egg concoction he was making in the pan with one hand. Multitasking as my stomach rumbled.
I pushed away and took a sip of coffee. He used that opportunity to pull two plates out from his cupboard. Splitting his egg concoction, he handed one plate to me and put the other on the kitchen table. He poured two waters and set them down with a pointed glance. I rolled my eyes playfully, and we laughed as I set the table with napkins and flatware.
He waited for me to take a bite, and then he dove in. The explosion of salty flavors hit my tongue. Just what I needed after a night of drinking.
Jordan gazed at me with his lips upturned while I ate.
“Katie, I want to spend more time with you, go on your walk, see the Gallery through your eyes.” He gazed at me, sipping his coffee as if this were the most natural statement in the world.
I stared at him, blinking like an owl. I hadn’t dated in years. Is this what you did afterwards? I liked the idea of spending more time with him.
“That’s sounds perfect. I need to change, maybe a shower?”
His eyes continued to scan me while I ate, giving me a warm sensation.
“What?” I asked.
“I always hoped you’d spend time with me, but I never imagined what would happen after you did.” The sun reflecting on his cobalt blue eyes, twinkling as he spoke.
His cell phone rang, and he looked at it.
“It’s my dad. Do you mind?”
I shook my head and took my last bite of eggs. He got up from the table.
“Hey dad! How are you feeling today?” He listened and nodded, walking further away, but I could still hear him on the phone. I picked up our plates and washed them in the sink. I was eavesdropping. It was none of my business. I used to speak to my family once a week, check in, tell them how things were going.