Ms. Anderson

Chapter 9

"I know," I joke, winking at her before adding, "so do you." Releasing her, I lead the way through the living room and into kitchen. "How was work?" I question.

"Alright, I guess. Couldn't wait to be done, though," she admits, leaning against the counter. Her response brings a smile to my face.

"Would you like anything to eat?" I offer, uncertain if she's already eaten.

"No thanks. I ate at work," she declines, taking a sip of the water I handed her and walking over to the couch.

"Okay," I reply, settling in beside her. "What would you like to do?" I ask, unsure of her intentions.

"I want to get to know you more, if that's okay with you. We'll ask each other questions," she suggests, careful not to overstep.

"That's fine by me. So, what do you want to know?" I inquire, lounging against the couch with my head propped on my hand. She gazes at me with a certain look in her eyes, and it's evident she likes what she sees. I can't help but smile to myself.

"I'll start with some easy ones," she says, pondering. "Who's your favorite author?"

"I don't have one favorite, but I've read the most books by Agatha Christie, so I guess her," I respond.

"Into crime, huh?" She smiles.

"Yeah, I really am. How about you?"

"I'm more of a horror fan," she explains, and I nod. "Your turn to ask a question," she prompts.

"Who's your favorite singer?" I ask.

"Lana Del Rey," and I nod in agreement. "She's one of my favorites too."

"Can I ask you some deeper questions?" she asks, and I can't help but wonder what kind of questions she's thinking about. So I agree.

"Have you ever been in a relationship with a woman before?" she probes, and I kind of expected this question.

"No, I haven't," I admit, and she smiles softly.

"When did you know you liked women?" she delves further, and I meet her gaze.

"From the moment I wanted to kiss you," I confess, and she looks down to my lips. As I feel the tension between us, I want to give in, but I also know this is a good time to get to know each other so I stay in place.

"When was that?" she asks and I recall, "that moment in the library." She nods as she remembers.

"Why didn't you kiss me then?" I wonder.

"If I did I it would've felt like I was taking advantage of you," she explains , and I feel a surge of warmth in my chest. She cared enough about me, even then, to prioritize my feelings over her own desires.

"How old are you?" she questions, and I chuckle.

"That took you long enough," I tease before revealing, "I'm forty two," and I observe her reaction. She smiles and I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean. "What?"