Vance and I sit at the dining room table with the TV in the living room playing an old episode of Stranger Things. After starting the night off on a bad note when Vance walked into my apartment and caught me masturbating, things have settled down. Vance has shed the gray blazer he came in with, and is more comfortable in hisT-shirt. Removing a garment seems to have helped him unclench a little. Now that our dinner is done, the next phase of the plan is to move to the couch and put on a movie.

Personally, I prefer rom-coms, but knowing Vance, he’ll probably advocate for something scary. I don’t mind horror every now and then, it just depends on the mood. If I’m being honest, my current mood has nothing to do with what we could put on any TV. I’m still feeling horny from reading The Patient and having my orgasm blocked. If Vance plays his cards right, he just might get to reap the benefits of Nathan Booker’s words.

“All right, since I cooked, you do the dishes, and I’ll find something for us to watch,” Vance says after letting out a loud and drawn out burp.

“Umm, okay,” I reply, struggling to hide my frown as I get up from the table and take both of our plates into the kitchen. Vance stands up, stretches out, and moves into the living room, plopping himself down on my couch with a thud as he grabs the remote for the TV. I take a moment to wash off both plates, even though I think it would’ve been sweet if Vance had washed the dishes after cooking, because after every meal I’ve cooked for us, I’ve always washed them—but, whatever.