31. Morgan
Chapter 31
Morgan
I was well and truly in my Lover era.
As concerned as I’d been that the novelty and heat would wear off and we’d be left with nothing to say, a month later we were still just as comfortable in each other’s company as ever. Except maybe more now, because we could jump each other’s bones whenever we wanted instead of just letting the tension eat at us. Instead of throwing up our walls left and right. After months of mounting tension, Jack and I were now … well, just mounting. Constantly. At mine, at his, anywhere we could. We were both completely unburdened, and often undressed.
The best part about finally being together was that we could finally call our little adventures what they actually were: dates. Our trip to the botanical garden was romantic enough to put Bridgerton to shame. Our wild swimming plans became skinny dipping in the moonlight. He’d come along to walk Pablo a few times, and they’d got on so well it was like they already knew each other. We’d even exchanged spare keys.
I had a date to the gala, too; Jack wanted to be there for me, and whilst I knew I wouldn’t have a ton of time for him, I liked the idea that he’d be a safe place to crash amidst the madness.
We still hadn’t told the rest of the group, though; we’d talked about it, and we both felt that we wanted to just be us for a while. Not complicate it with other people’s hopes or expectations. But I knew it would cause a splash when we did fess up, especially for Chloe, who had been asking me more and more pointed questions about how busy I was.
In the meantime, it had me feeling even more conflicted about my search for the perfect career, and the perfect place to live, and everything else. I’d been really enjoying my freelance work thanks to Greg’s word of mouth, but I knew I wasn’t ready to try to freelance full-time, so I was still planning to get a new job. Now that Jack and I were together, was there an expectation that I wouldn’t move? He’d said it was fine, that Jared and Fatima could be the blueprint for making it work, but how serious had he been?
I was afraid to ask, because part of me suspected the answer was yes, that things had changed. But the reality was that I had already been invited to a couple of interviews from the jobs I’d applied to.
One was for an agency in London that used cringey language like “design rockstar” and “disruptive innovation”, so I’d checked out about halfway through the call. I’d never heard back from them afterwards.
The second one, a remote role for a software company, had been promising though; the woman on the call was much nicer than the previous interviewer about my lack of experience, focusing instead on what I liked about design and what kinds of projects I’d tried. I knew by the end of the call that they were moving me onto the next stage, and she gave me a small design assignment to complete. Did I like designing fake social posts as much as I liked drawing D he’d apologised, and he’d been the one to send me the listings to begin with. There was no reason for him to be upset, right?
But for some reason, the second interview came and went, and I kept it to myself.