Page 32

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After the beach, I focused on my assigned paper that I never got to finish.

Monroe had to look over files and such, so I was bored enough to actually prioritize my schoolwork.

She sat at the dining room table, papers spread out, her Macbook open, with her glasses on and her hair pulled into a low ponytail.

Her bangs framed her face, focused precisely on the work in front of her.

I tried to focus on typing my paper on my laptop, but I somehow found myself eyeing her every few minutes.

She's wearing glasses.

That's not the only reason why I couldn't stop staring, but it fucking contributed.

It took me twice as long to finish the ending of my paper, add the correct formatting, and cite my sources.

A smile grew on my lips when I finally hit that submit button, immediately standing from the couch to walk over to her.

Monroe glanced away from her laptop as soon as I approached her—feeling beyond eager to focus on her instead of my paper now.

"Done?" she asked me as I stopped by her chair, staring down at her for once.

I nodded happily, "All done and submitted," I said, reaching for her shoulders as I carefully straddled her lap.

"This isn't a position you should be in after earlier darling," Monroe warned me, trailing her hands up my thighs before grabbing my waist.

"I can't just sit here?" I asked, forcing a fake frown as I eyed her face.

Monroe's lips twitched up slightly, "Be my guest," she murmured, even if I could tell she didn't believe a single word I just said.

I pursed my lips when she shifted her focus to her laptop, zoning in on her work as I sat on her lap.

I leaned into her, burying my face in my arms wrapped around her neck.

Monroe slid her hand under my sweatshirt, caressing the bareness of my lower back as she finished up her work.

I sat there contently, inhaling her familiar sweet scent with each breath as I relaxed more in her arms.

Everything was so calm around me—her body was so warm.

I never wanted to pull away.

For once, I genuinely sat still without the distraction of a phone or TV.

Or maybe I was just tired—her caress against my back didn't really help.

Her touch blurred into the edges of my dreams, and soon, I was gone.

I drifted off to sleep before I could realize it.

"Liberty."

I hummed, furrowing my brows when I felt a cramp in my arm.

"Liberty."

I let out a deep sigh, lowering my arms and nuzzling deeper into her chest.

That's when I felt the softness of her touch against my cheek, caressing my stray curls away from my face.

"I need to make dinner darling," I heard her soft voice echo in my ears.

"What time is it?" I whispered groggily, hugging myself closer to her.

"Almost six," she answered.

I blinked my eyes open immediately.

"It's already been three hours?" I asked, glancing around as I processed her body beneath mine in the chair that I still straddled her in.

The files on the table were stacked precisely, all the papers organized, and her laptop closed.

"You needed the sleep," Monroe determined as I glanced over to meet her stare.

"Maybe a little more," I subtly murmured, leaning back against her chest as I ran my arms around her torso.

Monroe hummed in response, delicately running her hands up my back, "You aren't hungry darling?" she softly whispered.

I shook my head in response, burying my face into her sweater as I inhaled deeply, taking in her scent.

"Right. You aren't hungry now," she emphasized my silent response, "But in thirty minutes or perhaps an hour, you will be. And dinner won't be ready."

I lazily shrugged, "I don't care," I determined, just wanting to stay in this current position with her.

"I see why," Monroe casually murmured, softly playing with the ends of my curls, "You won't be the one dealing with your attitude."

I dramatically parted my lips, pulling away from her chest to meet her stare.

"Uh not true," I countered her statement, holding her stare with a narrowed look, "My inner attitude is worse than what comes out of my mouth. You think I have no filter? Try being in my head."

Monroe lazily raised her brows, "I have," she calmly said, gently tapping my waist as a gesture to stand up.

I let out a dramatic sigh, standing from her lap that I reluctantly un-straddled.

"I see that you have an attitude regardless," Monroe said, pointing out the fucking obvious, "Do I need to fix that for you? Or do you think you can behave?"

I remained silent, watching as she calmly stood from her chair—rising to her tall height.

It made me tilt my head back slightly, holding her blue eyes.

"I have no clue what you're talking about. I'm just peachy," I mumbled with a tight smile.

Monroe didn't react, she only nodded, entirely unaffected by my words.

"I understand you want to sit on my lap, Liberty," she suddenly spoke, stepping toward me and closing the space between us, "But with this behavior, you'll be laid over my lap instead."

I bit down, my jaw tightening as I tried to fight the warmth her words caused.

But her lingering stare wasn't helping.

It was precise, staring down at me as if that was it.

There was nothing else to say—it almost felt like she dared me to.

"Now," Monroe spoke again when I was tensely silent, trying to fight my ego not to make something so small into a big deal, "Come sit in the kitchen while I cook. I would like your company."

She walked past me before I could reply to her demands, heading over to the open kitchen.

I could suddenly breathe again as she walked past, letting out a soft breath as I tried to reel myself back in.

Who knew the smallest trace of a fucking attitude was enough to cause such an issue with her?

"Can I at least have a snack?" I suddenly asked, turning around to follow her into the kitchen, "Please?" I added, hoping to smooth over what I had just casually fucked up.

I don't want to be on her bad side—my ego just likes to fight her sometimes.

"You may," Monroe said as she opened the fridge, "Good girls with manners can have anything they ask for."

I raised a brow as I stopped by the counter, "Anything?" I curiously asked, placing my palms on the cold surface behind me to lift myself up onto the counter.

I sat contently, my legs dangling off the counter as I watched her grab certain ingredients.

"Ask and we'll see," Monroe calmly said, setting some of the ingredients on the counter before grabbing a few more.

I pursed my lips in thought, watching as she closed the fridge, "Can we go get dessert later?" I decided to ask, already craving something sweet, "Please?" I added in a soft tone.

"What do you have in mind?" Monroe asked, standing near me as she washed her hands in the sink.

"Maybe like a cookie or a brownie," I suggested, pursing my lips together, "Or ice cream. I'm open to anything."

Monroe nodded as she ripped off a paper towel and carefully patted her hands dry, "We'll go after dinner," she determined, walking over to the trash can.

I smiled happily, but before I could say anything else, I felt my phone vibrate in my sweatshirt pocket.

I curiously reached for my phone, glancing down at the bright screen illuminated with a FaceTime call from—

Ki Ki.

Oh fuck, I completely forgot to check any texts today.

Not even from Zion and Sarai.

Although, they probably just sent me random TikToks.

"I have to take this," I suddenly said, sliding down from the counter.

"Who is it?" Monroe said, glancing away from the chicken she was preparing to wash.

"Just Kaia," I said nonchalantly.

Or at least I hoped I sounded nonchalant.

"Why can't you take the call in here?" she calmly asked, her focus now entirely on me.

"Well, for starters, she would want to know where I'm at," I pointed out, glancing over to my phone when it buzzed with a second FaceTime call from my best friend, "I figured answering it under the covers would be best."

Monroe didn't say anything, her blue eyes holding mine with unhinged precision.

She openly analyzed my face for a moment, it was short, but long enough to make me draw in an unconscious breath.

Until finally—

She nodded, silently motioning her head toward the bedroom.

I didn't need any more of a confirmation.

I quickly left the kitchen, nearly jogging into the bedroom and jumping on the large bed.

I buried myself under the thick cover, swiping my thumb across the screen to answer her FaceTime call.

"Finally," Kaia said as soon as the call connected, her face displayed on my screen as she lay in bed, "I was fucking afraid there for a second."

I jokingly rolled my eyes, "I just texted you back yesterday," I pointed out.

"Yeah, over twenty-four hours ago," she blankly countered, "You normally answer my texts immediately."

"I've just been busy," I said, subtly staring at myself at the corner of the screen, "Classes have been a little harder—I just finished my paper."

It wasn't a full lie.

But it definitely wasn't the truth.

"Bro tell me about—school has been kicking my ass," Kaia mumbled, making me feel a little relieved by her agreement, "So what are you up to? Bitch, are you under the covers?"

I snickered, "Yeah, I'm really cold," I said with an amused smile.

"Girl get a heated blanket already," Kaia said, flipping her camera around to display her heat blanket covering her body, "It's a blessing."

I hummed, "I'll get on that," I determined as she flipped the camera back around.

"Any updates on this mystery girl that you're talking to?" Kaia subtly asked, and I swear I had to physically force my smile to remain—pretending her words didn't affect me.

"Mystery girl?" I emphasized, forcing a light laugh as I subtly turned my volume to the lowest setting. I should've closed the fucking door, "Are you still on this Ki?"

Kaia rolled her eyes, "Duh—you've been less available, you got that new perfume oil, and you also won't let me—"

"Ki," I laughed forcefully again, quickly cutting her short before she could say anything compromising.

Even if my volume was really fucking low I didn't want to risk anything.

"I'm telling you there's no one, okay?" I said, forcing an amused smile, "You seriously need to chill—maybe go hit your dab pen a few times and then talk to me."

Kaia rolled her eyes yet again, "Whatever, I guess you're right," she mumbled reluctantly, "You would tell me anyways—we tell each other everything."

I nodded before I could think it through, "Yes, exactly," I said, trying not to feel guilty about her determination.

I had gotten my way—Kaia now believed there was no one.

But only because she trusted that I would share that news with her.

Fuck.

"I should probably go—I need to finish a few more assignments due tomorrow," I quickly lied, suddenly wanting to get off the phone with her.

I officially feel guilty.

"Ugh, okay," Kaia frowned dramatically, "I guess I'll text you... and you'll text back?"

I nodded immediately, "Yes of course," I assured her with a small smile.

Even if I felt really fucking bad for lying to her.

And also making her believe she was crazy for thinking someone was in the picture.

This is pretty fucked up.

"Okay... well I love you a lot, Libby," Kaia said, her voice softer than before.

I could tell she was upset about the short call and possibly overthinking this, but I also don't think being on FaceTime with her right now is a good idea.

For numerous reasons.

She doesn't know about Monroe—someone who is just feet away in the kitchen.

And then Monroe doesn't know about her, or what we've done, I should say.

It's too fucking risky.

"I love you too, Ki," I said, forcing my smile to widen as we hung up the call.

Then my smile dropped, ripping the covers away from me as I began checking my other texts.

As expected, Zion and Sarai sent numerous TikToks.

But they also sent a few texts last night about doing breakfast this morning.

And I never answered.

I let out a deep sigh, sliding out of the bed as I quickly typed up an apology.

I also asked if they could do dinner tomorrow maybe.

I know Monroe and I are leaving tomorrow so dinner should work.

"Everything well?" Monroe asked me as I walked out of the bedroom, towards the kitchen.

I glanced up from my phone, "Yeah," I whispered, walking around the kitchen island where she stood.

The stove now had a pot of boiling water and a skillet pan with chicken cooking.

"I just kind of neglected my friends on accident," I sighed, setting my phone down on the counter with a soft clatter, "I feel so bad. Zion and Sarai texted yesterday about breakfast and everything."

Monroe reached for my waist when I leaned over the counter, burying my face in my hands.

"Darling it's okay," I heard her softly whisper, the warmth of her body pressed to the back of mine, "It wasn't intentional. You were busy."

"I know I just really hope they aren't mad at me," I whispered brokenly.

I don't even know what I would do if they were mad.

"I doubt they are sweetheart," Monroe assured me as she leaned closer to me, the pet name making everything around me burn, "Your life is allowed to get busy."

I remained silent, drawing in an unconscious breath when I felt the softness of her lips against the back of my neck.

The kiss was soft and fleeting, sending shivers down my spine.

"I made you a snack," she whispered, her warm breath tickling my exposed neck.

My attention suddenly piqued, "You did?" I asked, leaning my face away from my hands and turning around to face her.

She hummed in response, reaching for the plate on the counter behind me.

I furrowed my brows, glancing down at the sophisticated plate.

I've never thought a snack looked sophisticated, but somehow Monroe had done it.

"Pears and brie," she motioned to the slice of fruit drizzled with honey and then the cheese.

I blinked a few times, "I've... never had this before," I whispered, awkwardly reaching for one of the pear slices.

A part of me was a little scared.

I'm not a picky eater but I also haven't tried things like... this.

This is so fancy to me and it's literally just fruit and cheese.

I knew the cheese alone was probably really expensive though.

"I'm sure you'll like it," Monroe said, suddenly setting the plate down, "Here," she murmured, grabbing the small knife to cut a slice of the cheese off.

Then she guided the pear slice out of my hand, holding it in hers as she carefully layered the cheese over it.

I drew in an unconscious breath when she brought the fruit and cheese to my lips, glancing up to meet her blue eyes as I parted my lips for her.

Monroe held my stare as she slid the fruit and cheese past my parted lips, watching me carefully as I took a bite.

My mouth immediately watered from the sweetness of the fruit and honey—the cheese adding a more creamy and savory blend.

"Oh my gosh," I whispered, leaning in for another bite that Monroe didn't hesitate to give me, "That's so good."

Monroe's lips twitched up as she openly watched me take another bite, this one much bigger than my other, "I'm glad you like it, darling," she softly murmured, feeding me the rest as I hummed happily.

"Thank you so much," I whispered, now reaching past her to prepare another pear slice with brie.

I never thought this would ever be my kind of thing.

But I genuinely think I just found my new favorite snack.

This is so fucking good.

"You're welcome," Monroe said as she turned around, focusing on flipping the chicken to cook on the other side.

Then she poured the angel hair noodles into the boiling water to let them cook as well.

Meanwhile, I focused purely on the snack she made me, sliding back onto the kitchen island to eat and watch her cook.

It was weirdly attractive.

The way she cooked—how calm she seemed.

She genuinely knew what she was doing, and didn't doubt a single thing.

Everything was timed perfectly.

The cooked pasta, the grilled chicken, and the sauce she made.

It was plated perfectly, the creamy noodles underneath with precisely cut chicken over it and parsley sprinkled on top.

She made us glasses of ice water, setting the table with silverware and napkins despite offering to do it for her.

But there was a certain level of detail—how our napkins were folded, the way our silverware laid, even the bowl that sat a certain distance from the glass cups.

She was very... particular about it.

"What is this?" I curiously asked as I reached for my fork, eyeing the steaming bowl of food.

It smelled incredible.

She was serious when she said she had been trained in the kitchen.

"Chicken piccata," Monroe answered as she smoothly grabbed her fork and spoon, "It's a little simpler."

I hummed, even if I had no clue what the fuck a chicken piccata was.

All I knew was that it was far from simple in my experience.

"Simple to me is dino nuggets and those crinkle-cut fries that you throw in the air fryer," I joked, poking my fork in the cut-up chicken as I gathered a few noodles on it.

"Adorable," she murmured, her lips twitching up slightly as she used her fork to twirl her pasta against her spoon, "I'll be changing what you view as simple from now on."

I shook my head, "Don't knock it till you try it," I said as I brought the fork to my lips, sliding the noodles into my mouth with the piece of chicken.

"Perhaps I'll have to try it then," Monroe said as she watched me precisely, subtly lowering her silverware against her plate.

Which suddenly made me feel a little self-conscious, chewing the bite of food I took.

It was incredible.

Like mouth-watering incredible.

Probably the best meal I've had.

It was all so flavorful and the chicken went perfectly with the creamy noodles.

"This is so good, oh my god," I said once I finally finished chewing, preparing myself another bite.

Monroe glanced down at the fork that I twirled in the pasta, "I'm glad you like it—" she suddenly paused, almost looking displaced for a moment as she eyed my fork, "Let me teach you a better way to do that, darling," she suddenly offered, standing from her chair before I could decline her offer.

I hesitantly paused as she stopped behind me, "Okay..." I trailed off awkwardly.

Now it made sense why she was looking at me like that.

I'm eating wrong—at least etiquette-wise.

"You hold your spoon in one hand," she instructed, gently placing the spoon in my free hand.

She wrapped her other hand around mine, her skin soft against mine as she guided the fork in my hand.

"Then you use the spoon surface to gather the noodles around your fork," she briefly explained.

I watched as she guided the fork through the noodles and against the spoon—guiding me to twirl the noodles, wrapping them tightly around the fork.

"Yes, just like that, Liberty," Monroe praised me, watching me take the bite she helped me prepare.

My face unconsciously burned up, hearing her words in...

A different context.

A very inappropriate one.

"Thank you," I whispered after chewing a few times.

"You're welcome, darling," Monroe said as she sat back down at the head of the table beside me.

"Thank you for dinner too. I really appreciate it," I added in a softer tone with a smile, focusing on preparing my next bite.

It wasn't hard to twirl my fork against my spoon to gather the noodles better.

It was just so much fucking effort.

"Of course, Liberty," Monroe said as I focused on my fork and spoon in my pasta.

With each bite I had to prepare, I grew less and less interested in even eating.

How does she constantly do this?

I'm sure she learned this kind of technique when she was a child?

I wonder what else she learned that took an extra amount of effort.

I guess I could learn that for her too if she wanted it.

I just hope dessert would be more on my level of simple.

I'm always hungry when it comes to sweets.

Especially since Zion and Sarai later texted back and said it was all good, making me feel less anxious.

Our plans for dinner tomorrow are on—and I also texted Kaia back after dinner as promised.

It was dark outside as we left the house, sprinkling rain as the night sky remained foggy.

Monroe turned on the heat and seat warmers as we got settled in her car, driving to a place she picked out for us.

It turned out to be an ice cream parlor, which was somewhat of what I described.

Or I thought it was.

Apparently, they did brownie sundaes too, which turned out to be exactly what I had described to her.

She ordered a scoop of the salted caramel ice cream while I got the brownie sundae.

"Ugh it's so good," I said, taking another bite of the brownie topped with ice cream that had slowly melted.

I was full, but it was too good to stop eating.

"You're going to give yourself a stomach ache," Monroe warned me, watching me as I chewed a few times.

She ate a little bit of her ice cream, but the difference with her is she stopped when she was full.

"It might be worth it," I said, eyeing what was left of the gooey chocolate brownie and vanilla ice cream.

"Or we can come here again tomorrow," Monroe suggested, subtly guiding the bowl away from me, "You can have it again without the stomachache."

I raised a brow at her offer, "I think I would be open to that," I murmured, not wanting to make it so easy for her to change my mind.

But she just offered the best option.

"You think," she emphasized my words, her blue eyes trailing my face.

I shrugged, "It's not a bad idea," I said, my lips annoyingly twitching up against my own wishes, "Or it's a really good idea."

Monroe hummed in response, "I know," was all she said, standing from her chair as I dramatically parted my lips.

"Well, then I take it back," I argued, standing from the table with her as she grabbed our trash to throw away.

"Okay," Monroe calmly said as I followed behind her, "You still agreed," she added in amusement, making me narrow my eyes.

"But now I don't," I pointed out as she threw the plastic bowls away.

"Right," she said, opening the door for me and letting me walk through first, "But you did."

I rolled my eyes as we walked toward the car, deciding not to argue further with her.

If I do, I'll catch an attitude with her and I'm not in the mood for a punishment.

Monroe didn't seem to mind my silence, opening the passenger door for me so I could slide into the car.

I glanced down when my phone buzzed in my lap, quickly buckling my seatbelt to see what Kaia wanted.

Or maybe it was Zion or Sarai.

My stomach immediately dropped upon reading her contact on my lock screen.

My mothers.

Internally, I began to panic, quickly clicking on her text to read.

I scoffed at the text, almost hearing her familiar voice echo in my head at her words.

Of course, she doesn't actually care about me—she just wanted to point out how irresponsible I am.

Still, I'll need a reason for why I haven't used my credit card in the last few days.

Since Monroe gave me the black Amex, it's all I've used—but I obviously couldn't tell my mother that.

Not just because of the legal documents.

Because she's my mother and she already disapproves of anything I do.

I don't want to imagine how she'd react to my current situation with a woman who is supposedly my therapist.

I quickly locked my phone when Monroe slid into the car beside me, deciding to ignore my mother's text completely.

I refuse to let her ruin this weekend for me.

Instead, I decided to focus my energy on looking out of the tinted window—watching as Monroe turned the car on and reversed out of the parking spot.

I made sure to continue on as I had been.

Only because I knew Monroe would immediately notice if there was something off.

It could be the tiniest thing and she would notice.

I had to purposely occupy myself, thinking about anything other than that text.

Like how tired I am.

Or how nice today was with Monroe.

It almost made me want to never go back to Seattle.

Not with how calm it felt here with her.

But I knew I would have to head back to the city tomorrow.

And I also knew I would have to text my mom back eventually.

Just tomorrow.

Every problem I have can wait until then.