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"Good."
"So, what now?"
"Uh, we wait. Typically, it takes three to four hours for a response to come through."
"And…and you're sure it's going to be legit?"
"A survey is always legit. As long as you fill in the right info, you'll always get the right feedback. Since we're working with businesses, it should be much easier."
She exhales. "Let's hope they provide what I'm looking for."
"They will, don't worry. You've got a lot of prospects in your case."
Kaylee nods. Just then, another gust of wind shake the glass window. Kaylee glances up at me. “I’m so sorry about keeping you here so late.”
“It’s not a problem. In fact, I think I should get going before it starts.”
“Yeah, sure.”
She offers me a smile at the door. Her eyes are still puffy from sleep, and her mascara has flaked off onto her cheekbones. Her lipstick has worn off long ago, and her hair is a mess. And yet, she still manages to look stunning.
“Drive carefully, Ian.”
My gaze rests on her lips for a second too long. I blink. “Yeah, definitely. Have a good night.”
She brushes her hair away from her face and opens the door. “You too.”
Before I can get one final look, she has closed the door. Sighing, I head to my car, shielding my head away from the biting wind. I’m about to unlock the driver’s door when a heavy downpour descends upon me, nearly knocking me off-balance. In a swift move, I slide into the driver’s seat and switch on the ignition to activate the windshields. The rain is heavily drumming on the roof of my car.
I can’t go home in this weather. A notification pings from my phone and I reach into my pocket. I wipe the slickness away on the hem of my shirt and swipe it open. It’s a text from Kaylee:
–Can see your car is still here. You want to come in? It’s not too safe to drive on a night like this.
I hesitate for a moment, glancing at her windows to check if she’s there. She isn’t. I quickly switch off the engine, open the door and lock it with the key fob. I run across the street and back to Kaylee’s house.
She’s waiting for me with a fluffy towel and an apologetic smile. “Here you go.”
I return a thankful smile and dab at my wet face and arms. She’s turned on the heater, so the room is a lot warmer.
“I don’t have an extra t-shirt. I’m sorry. Well, at least, not one your size.”
I chuckle and raise the towel in gratitude. “This will do just fine for me, thank you.”
“Would you care for some cocoa? I just put on the kettle.”
“Sure.”
“Come on.”
I follow her to the kitchen. She looks up at me and asks, “Wanna learn a cooking tip for free when it comes to making cocoa?”
Taking a seat at the adjoining dining table, I nod. “Of course.”
She takes out two mugs and set it on the table. Using a potholder, she lifts the kettle from the electric stovetop and switches off the power. She carefully pours the steaming water into the mugs and puts the kettle away. She adds sugar, milk and a large helping of chocolate powder.
"The trick," she says, reaching for two spoons on the cutlery rack, "is to never change the direction of your wrist when stirring. If you're stirring clockwise, maintain that position. Here," she hands a spoon to me, "try it."
"Clockwise or anti?"
