not entirely a penny pincher, she didn’t spend a whole lot of money as far as he
knew.
He flipped his seventh pancake just as the bedroom door opened. Emily walked out
wearing only one of his T-shirts and rubbed her head. Her hair was wild, sticking
up in a few places.
“Last night was terrific,” she said, walking into the small kitchen. “You follow
instructions amazingly well.”
“I try,” William replied, placing the finished pancake on the plate with the other
six.
“Pancakes!” Emily exclaimed. “You're making me pancakes?”
“I am,” William said.
“Oh my God, William,” she said. “After what you did last night and pancakes this
morning, you are a total catch.”
“Well, I'm trying to be a good host,” he replied.
“A girl can get used to this,” she told him.
He handed her a plate with three pancakes. She sat at the island separating the
kitchen from the living room, poured syrup on her breakfast, and took a bite.
“Oh my God, William,” she said. “These are good.”
After breakfast, William sat on the couch. He kept the TV in his bedroom,
preferring to watch while lying in bed, so the living room only held his stereo and
a shelf full of CDs.
Emily scanned his collection, still wearing his T-shirt.
“I haven't heard of most of the bands,” she told him. “R.E.M. is the only one I
recognize.”
She bent over to look at the bottom rows of the shelf, mooning him in the process.