There are pocket-sized photos on the wall of her and Heather, or her mom, and a few people who might be her other friends. And there is this one photo that looks like it was cut up from a magazine—an empty studio with mirrors as walls like the one ballerinas use to practice in.
I hear some noise coming from outside the room. I quickly get dressed, and go out while still buttoning my shirt, only managing to do it halfway up when I see her in the kitchen, wearing the white shirt from earlier, and no pants, just red-laced panties that look so sexy on her ass. God damn this girl isn't giving me a break.
She's making a sandwich on the table, glancing up when I approach and giving me a shy smile as I plant a kiss on her temple. "Hey," she says.
"Hi. You were about to eat when I arrived earlier, weren't you? Sorry I interrupted your lunch."
"Nah, I wasn't hungry then. I am now, though. Would you like some?"
