She rolls her eyes but starts to switch out last night’s work clothes for more of my own. I smile down at the grinder. By the time the grounds are fluffy and fragrant, Sophie is fully changed, sitting at a barstool along the counter, hunched over her phone. “Lucky for you, my coach canceled our session this morning because of the weather. The roads coming into the city are bad, apparently.”

I nod like this was all a part of my plan. The triumph I feel at having her here makes me feel at least thirty percent responsible for the inclement weather.

“So who makes these rules, by the way?” she asks, setting her phone on the counter. “These supposed you-make-me-coffee rules?”

Well, it’s me. I make the rules. But I know a trap when I see one and I’m about to walk into the you’re-being-pushy-again trap. “Sappho,” I say with all the authority of a lesbian on a power trip.

She grumbles something that sounds like, it’s a good thing you’re cute.

As the water boils, I scoop grounds into the French press. “Rule number two is that I make you breakfast.” I pour the water and put the lid on. “I was thinking bacon or sausage, depending on what I have in the fridge, and ricotta lemon pancakes?”

Sophie’s face falls as I turn around. She puts a hand on her stomach. “I don’t really eat breakfast.”

“I’m sorry.” I laugh. “I thought you said you don’t eat breakfast.”

“I did.”

I frown, replaying her words again. “Do you mean...you don’t feel like eating breakfast right now?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not really a breakfast person.” She shrugs.

The windows along the east side of my apartment create a hopscotch grid of sunlight on the floor and furniture, creeping along the counter toward her hand. All the plants in the room are permanently turned toward the windows and I turn to them now, too, to contemplate how someone so beautiful can be so terribly wrong.

“Wait. What about before you work out? You have to eat before you do that.”

“Not really. My body has learned to adjust. I generally don’t eat before I work out since I go so early in the morning. I’ll eat after, though.”

“You eat nothing? That can’t be healthy.”

She looks down at herself. “I don’t know. Do you think I look unhealthy?”

She grins because she knows she has me. She looks like a fucking bomb went off in a hot girl factory.

Sophie rolls her eyes. “Sometimes when I’m on my period I’ll have some fruit before I go to the gym. My body needs more help processing the carbs during that time, so I’ll give it a bit of a boost with the extra sugar.”

“Why don’t we just pretend you already worked out,” I say brightly. “Then you can eat breakfast. Beautiful, delicious breakfast.”

She twists her lips in a pensive pout. She seems like maybe she wants to. Maybe I’ve convinced this woman of the absolute necessity of breakfast food. “I really don’t like it.”