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Her text had said it was lumming out. When she stepped into the room I figured it out.
“You’re soaked,” I said.
“Yes,” she replied, her ill humor evident in her voice as water soaked the floor beneath her feet.
“It’s kinda hot,” I said, with what I imagined was a twinkle in my eye.
“It is not hot. I am uncomfortable; I am cold; I want a hot shower.”
“Can I join you in this hot shower?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows outrageously.
A hint of a smile shined through her disgruntled façade. “I suppose that might be acceptable.”