"Bold of you to assume I'd let you." She stood and collected plates with the brusque efficiency of someone who'd worked food service at some point in her life. The bike shorts rode up slightly as she reached across the table for Aurora's bowl, and I kept my gaze firmly on the ceiling fan because I had already used up tonight's allowance of looking at things I shouldn't.
The ceiling fan was very interesting. Multiple speeds. Brushed nickel finish.
"Right." Addison dropped the dishes in the sink with a clatter that said washing them was tomorrow's problem. She dried her hands on a dishtowel, tossed it over her shoulder, and turned to face both of us with an expression that meant the evening was about to shift gears. "I'm bored of eating. Let's play something."
Aurora perked up from her post-dinner slouch on the couch. "What kind of something?"
