Page 20

Morgan’s eyebrows shot up.

“Really?”

“Dude, you have no idea!” Chloë answered. “Some women are, like, ‘Um…excuse me but I am soooo not gay!’” She said that last bit in a faux Valley girl voice straight out of a bad Eighties movie. Morgan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sorry,” Morgan exclaimed, still giggling, “but the voice…” She cleared her throat and managed to regain a modicum of control. “But that is horrible. I mean, fine, they’re straight, but they don’t have to be jerks about it.”

“Yeah,” Chloë said, “but I know the boys have it worse. If a gay guy hits on the wrong straight guy…” She left the sentence unfinished but Morgan knew the ending. There were plenty of stories in the news of violence against gay men for daring to admit finding certain straight men attractive. It never made sense to Morgan.

“Anyway,” Chloë went on, “I seriously need to get my gaydar checked.”

Morgan blinked.

“Um…why?”

Her companion chuckled.

“Because last night, when I was hanging out with you, it was pinging like crazy! Like, you know, in those movies that take place in submarines? Like, ping-ping-ping! Russian bogey off the port bow or whatever.”

Morgan swallowed. She suddenly needed to find something to do with her hands and ended up fidgeting with her fingers in her lap.

“That’s super funny,” she said.

Chloë looked over at her.

“I’m sure it was just wishful thinking, don’t worry. I seriously had a huge crush on you in high school.”

Morgan smiled down at her hands. Chloë had told her the same thing last night and though Morgan was not about to admit it now to Chloë, it had played a part in keeping her up well into the night once she had gotten home. Combined with th

e overdose of caffeine, the thought of a stunning young woman like Chloë, who had turned heads when they had walked into the wine bar and who smelled like Sexy Secret perfume, ever having had a crush on her had whirled around in Morgan’s mind well past midnight.

She sighed theatrically.

“I like how you always emphasize that you had a crush on me, though,” she said like an actress overacting a line in a cheesy play. “I guess I’m just too old now.” She finished it off by holding the back of her hand up to her forehead as if about to faint with disappointment.

Chloë glanced over at her, one eyebrow arched.

“Or maybe I figured I was still too young?” she asked.

Morgan gave her a raised eyebrow in return.

She’s quick!

“If it’s any consolation,” Morgan began, “I’m fairly certain my friend Naomi likes you.”

“It’s not, though,” Chloë sighed.

“What’s not?” Morgan asked.

“Consolation,” Chloë answered. “Your friend is hot but she’s no you.”

Morgan laughed but before she could continue the repartee, Chloë suddenly exclaimed, “Fuck!” and had to slow her car down before bringing it to a full stop.

Ahead of them on the highway was a long trail of taillights, glowing red. In the distance they could make out flashing yellow warning signs indicating the roadwork that was forcing traffic to first slow and then merge into fewer lanes.

“You were right,” Chloë said. “This will definitely take more time.”

“Gee, it’s almost like I’ve been alive a dozen years more than you and might have learned a few things.”