“Of course, I want to properly meet Vanessa and her fiancée!” Morgan continued. “It’s just that…oh god, what if they see through me or something?”
Chloë stifled a laugh.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, smirking.
What am I talking about?
“I mean, they’re, like, real lesbians!” she said, knowing how silly it sounded but resigning herself to the fact that everything which was about to come out of her mouth during the next few moments would sound silly. “What if they think I’m just a pretender? Or what if they’re both suspicious of me, thinking that I’m just experimenting with you?”
A horrible thought just entered her mind and her eyes went wide. “Oh my god, what if this is a trap?”
Now Chloë couldn’t hold back the laughter.
“Trap?” she asked, positively giddy with mirth. “Dude!”
“Shut up! What if it is?”
“Like, what kind of trap?” Chloë inquired, putting on a faux-serious face which did a terrible job at hiding just how ridiculous she thought Morgan was being.
“Like the kind of trap where these friends of yours invite me over to lesbian-scan me or something and then determine I’m not lesbian enough for you and then try to convince you to break up with me!”
Morgan then had to sit there pouting because now she had completely lost control of this conversation. Chloë actually laughed so hard she fell on the floor. Morgan, meanwhile, sat with her arms crossed wondering why no one else in this tiny house was taking her seriously.
Finally, still on the floor, Chloë crawled over and rested her arms on Morgan’s knees, looking up at her with those large green eyes.
“Aww, it’s so sweet that you don’t want anyone to try to break us up,” Chloë said.
Still pouting, Morgan said, “I’m not so sure now, especially since you won’t take my concerns seriously.”
Chloë nodded.
“True, true,” she said thoughtfully. “But then again, you are the one suggesting that lesbians can scan other women to determine their level of lesbianism.” And she couldn’t help but burst into laughter again.
Morgan knew Chloë had her. She was being silly. But she was looking forward to meeting Chloë’s boss and friend, Vanessa. They had kind of met the night of the coffee tasting last month but this would be a proper meeting.
“Fine, I’ll relax about everything,” she told Chloë, knowing that she actually wouldn’t relax about everything, but at least she wouldn’t let on to Chloë that she wasn’t relaxing.
And how would Chloë react about meeting Naomi? Or Akhila or Stef, two of her other close friends?
Morgan wondered why she was even wondering. Chloë was so not the type to get flustered at the prospect of meeting…anyone. Her girlfriend was the very definition of a “people person.” In fact, Morgan was sure that if Chloë was in the White House, there would be an end to all wars and strife throughout the world.
Of course, Morgan realized, Chloë was way too young to become president, whereas she herself had officially become old enough to hold the office two birthdays ago. So, the better question was, what would her friends like Akhila and Stef think about Morgan dating such a younger woman, never mind the woman part of it? “Ladies, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Chloë. She’ll have no idea who Boyz II Men are and she graduated from high school six years ago.”
“Penny for your thoughts,” Chloë said, kissing Morgan’s knee.
Morgan smiled at her.
“Nothing,” she said. “Just imagining what it will be like when I introduce you to my friends eventually. Just out of curiosity, have you ever heard of Boyz II Men?”
***
“Yay! I’m so glad you’re here!”
This bubbly greeting came from the very beautiful younger woman with auburn hair who opened the door of the lovely beachside house, which must have cost a fortune. Morgan hated that her mind had automatically gone to thinking about the cost of the home when Chloë had pulled up to it a little while ago, but it was hard not to. Having recently been a customer in the Carlsbad real estate market, Morgan knew that the only way she could have afforded a beach house was if it had a missing roof, absolutely no indoor plumbing and was haunted by the wicked ghost of a nineteenth century sea captain whose ship had wrecked just off the coast.
It made sense, though, Morgan considered. Chloë had told her that Megan, Vanessa’s fiancée and whom Morgan presumed was the woman greeting them, was one of the top executives for a big software company and Morgan had a feeling that even the janitors at top software companies made more annually than high school teachers.
After hugging Chloë, the woman said, “Hi, I’m Megan!”