Stephen
Laura went over to her dresser, pulled out a T-shirt, and went into the bathroom. She was in there for about five minutes, and then she came out wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. I noticed she had put her bra back on.
“I’m ready,” she said.
I looked at her; she looked like she was ready to do yard work or something. Definitely not dressed to go ring shopping.
“You're wearing that?” I asked her.
“What’s wrong with this? It’s comfortable,” she replied.
“For cleaning the house, it’s fine. For Tiffany’s, I don’t think so,” I told her.
“I didn’t realize Tiffany’s had a dress code. Can’t we go to Kay’s instead? I don’t want to change. I was so cozy,” Laura whined.
“Wait, are you sure you’re a woman? Because Tiffany’s is usually what you women crave,” I teased.
Laura looked at me
