"It's nine," I said. "I should probably get home."
He rolled over and pulled me close to him, kissing my cheeks, my forehead, my collarbone, as I giggled and squirmed.
"Come on, we need to brush our teeth," I said.
"Nope," he said, and laughed against my neck. Oh, he felt so good against me.
He was certainly awake now, I reflected, as I felt an insistent pressure against my hip. As he began to kiss lower and lower I relaxed into the sheets and enjoyed it. What a way to wake up.
I did get home by noon. As soon as I walked in the door, I wondered why I ever left Justin's apartment. My own was small and felt cramped, my queen-sized bed taking up more of the only bedroom than the king-sized bed took up of Justin's master suite.
It wasn't a bad apartment, really. A living room, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom was all I needed, and, to be honest, there were days I rattled around that much space by myself.
I had taken a little time and money to decorate when I'd moved in, but then I got busy with work and never quite finished. I had a decent couch and some nice throw pillows, but a ratty old blanket was usually tossed carelessly on one side from when I curled up and watched bad television alone.
We had only had breakfast, not lunch, so I opened the fridge. Cold pizza did
n't sound very appetizing with the memory of that French dinner so fresh.
I could actually cook something, but it didn't seem worth it for just myself. I grabbed a slice of cold veggie pizza and nuked it for a minute. The crust got chewy and unpleasant, but it was better than cold. Marginally.
I flopped onto the couch with my plate and sighed.
As I ate pizza one-handed, I scrolled through my Netflix queue. Absolutely nothing was interesting. Trashy TV seemed even more garish after the pleasant tastes of luxury Justin gave me, and silly romantic comedies even sillier.
I sighed.
When my pizza was gone and my belly was not so empty, I looked around the apartment.
There was a hamper full of clean laundry to put away, and a few dishes to do. I'd gotten in bad habits, living by myself. With roommates, I was usually more on top of things.
I stood up and applied myself to the housework. It was satisfying, although I didn't like to admit it to most people. I enjoyed putting an apron on and getting the work done.
More than that, though, I enjoyed looking around a clean and tidy apartment, as I did when I was finished. It was nicer to sit around in a space that was fresh and clean, even if it was tedious to keep up with everything.
I looked at the dining room table, bare and sad, and walked to the fridge.
Underneath 'bread, peanut butter, cheerios,' I added 'flowers' to the grocery list. I didn't usually spend the money on flowers, but they could make my little apartment feel so much more like a home.
Finally, I couldn't put it off any longer.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called my mother.
"Finally, darling," she said. "I thought you'd never remember that it was a Saturday."
"I had cleaning to do," I said.
"Oh, yes. Very urgent," she said, with a tinkling little laugh. I rolled my eyes.
"How are you today, Mother?" I asked. "Did you have a good week?"
"Well, you know," she said. "Tolerable. And you?"
"It was actually really great," I said. "Yesterday, I had to go out to a pretty big ranch for a routine inspection, and they were very prepared. They had someone ready to show me around, and they didn't ask if they'd sent the right person, or ask if a man could come back next week and check my work."
"Well, I'm glad you were pleased, but really, darling, you can't expect everyone to like you all the time. I don't know where you got that," she said. "I never worry about silly things like that."
"It's not about whether or not they like me," I said, patiently. "It's about whether or not they'll listen to a woman."