Breakfast

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the house. Still, I almost didn't go downstairs. I almost let my shame overwhelm me and hole myself up in my room. But then I heard it—her laughter. Loud, lively. As if last night had never happened. As if the house belonged to her. With everything in it. Including him.

I pulled myself together. Shuffled into the kitchen in an oversized hoodie and socks. No makeup. No protection. I felt like a zombie.

David sat at the table, holding a cup in both hands. His gaze was fixed on it, as if it could tell him what to think, what to feel.

He didn't look up. He didn't greet me.

But she did.

Lisa was standing at the stove, a spatula in her hand, a couple of fried eggs sizzling in the pan. Her hair was pinned up in a perfectly messy bun, not a strand out of place. She was wearing high-waisted shorts and a tank top that clung to her like a second skin, showing off more than enough of her ample bosom. Pink lip gloss. Super-long eyelashes. Her smile was so bright that she needed a license to carry it.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” she chirped. “I hope we didn't wake you?”

I didn't answer.

She smiled anyway.

David said nothing.

I pulled up a chair and sat down slowly across from him. The wood felt hard and cool against my thighs. I kept my eyes fixed on the table. My heart was pounding as if I were twelve years old and had been caught stealing cookies, now waiting for a lecture. Then I thought of - the bet. Lisa's whisper from the night before: “Let's see who he falls for first.”

My pulse quickened. I sat up straight. No. I wasn't going to let her win without a fight.

I reached for a piece of toast. Spread butter on it. Calm. Quiet. Relaxed. I took a bite, kept the rest in my hand, and leaned back in my chair. As I did so, my hoodie slipped off my shoulder as if by accident. Casual. Carefree. Down to my upper arm. Revealing the top of my breasts. And more...

Lisa turned around to put the eggs on our plates. She glanced at me—just a quick look—and her grin froze.

Good.

David noticed that something was wrong and finally looked up. He saw how I looked. And most importantly, he saw what I wanted to show him: I wasn't wearing anything underneath. NOTHING.

“Oops,” I giggled and tugged my top back into place.

He quickly looked away. I smiled into my toast.

The game could continue.