Stevie yanked Lindsey into her hotel room and closed the door behind him, barely stifling her giggles.
"What’s up?" he asked, unable to fight the smile pulling at his lips at her giddiness, and also her attire. Stevie nearly disappeared into the huge fluffy robe wrapped around her petite frame, which she accessorized with furry Ugg boots, her long blond hair pulled back in a messy pony tail piled high on her head. Her hair looked damp, as if she was fresh from the shower.
Of course, he wasn’t exactly dressed to the nines, also fresh from the shower with damp hair, wearing a ratty old black tee-shirt and faded blue jeans. He hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes to walk the few yards from his room to Stevie’s room after she’d called and asked him to stop by a few minutes ago.
He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, especially her, but for a brief moment as he wandered over he wondered if maybe she’d greet him at the door in lingerie or, better yet, naked, prepared to switch their decades-long on-again off-again affair back to ‘on-again’. He chuckled to himself, looking at her now, realizing he liked her looking like this just as much as he liked how she looked in his dirty hypothetical ponderings.
"You’ve got to read something!" she insisted in an excited whisper, pushing him across the room to her bed. He allowed himself to be pushed, enjoying the feel of her hands on his lower back.
A laptop lay open on top of rumpled bedding and an opened bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket beside the bed.
"Since when do you own a laptop?"
"A what?" she asked, sitting him down onto the bed next to the laptop and pouring him a glass of champagne.
He chuckled lightly, shaking his head, and pointed at her laptop. “Since when do you own one of these?”
"Oh, I don’t," she replied, pouring herself another glass of champagne before handing him his and settling beside him, cross-legged, in front of the computer, eyeglasses perched on her nose. "It’s Karen’s."
"Ah," he nodded, sipping the drink. "Do you even know how to use it?"
She paused, looking up at him over the top of her glasses. “It’s actually physically impossible for you to give me any credit at all, isn’t it?”
His smile faded in an instant. Uh oh.
Dangerous territory… you’re in dangerous territory, Buckingham, the voice in his head cautioned. Tread lightly, man.
Heeding his conscience he kept his mouth shut, watching her, unblinking. They looked at each other a long moment.
"Oh, fuck it," she declared, pushing her glasses up her nose with her index finger, focusing once again on the monitor. "Jesus, this shit is too good for you to miss because of a fight over that particular can of worms."
He released the air from his lungs silently. Bullet dodged. Smiling, he stretched out on his side beside her, peering at the monitor under her arm, taking another sip of the champagne. “What is this shit of which you speak?”
"Have you ever heard of fan fiction?"
"Fan fiction?"
"Yes."
"What the hell is fan fiction?"
"They’re stories…written by fans of stuff and posted on the, uh…the…you know, the internet thing," she explained, waving her hand at the screen.
The corners of his mouth pulled up slightly but not in mocking fashion. Her complete lack of computer savvy endeared her to him even more, if that were possible these days.
