A knock at the door

Just as she’s finished talking there’s a knock at the door. “Oh that must be Chad… you don’t need to shower yet, why don’t you go answer the door” you say testing her mettle from the other day.

She hears the knock and her eyes flick to the door, then back to you. A slow smile spreads across her face as she sets her water bottle down, deliberately taking her time.

"You want me to answer the door like this?"

She gestures at herself—the translucent sports bra, the sweaty skin, the shorts that leave little to the imagination. She stands, stretches her arms above her head. She looks nervous at first but then her eyes light up.

"Okay. Your call."

She walks to the door, hips swaying with just a little more intention than necessary. She unlocks it, pulls it open, and leans against the frame with an easy smile. The game of chicken has begun.