Of course, that makes my eyes drop straight to her butt, and I can see a whole lot more of it from here.
“You’re not looking at my butt, are you?”
With all the willpower I contain, I raise my eyes to the ceiling and step away. “Nope. Not looking at your butt.”
“Good.” She lets out a resigned sigh. “So, I fell over.”
“What is it with people and falling over in this apartment lately?”
The curtain rustles. I think she’s trying to shrug. “Well, I have an excuse. I was dancing, and I slipped.”
She was dancing. In my shower. Naked. Like she is now.
Rein it in there, Hastings. Focus on the task at hand.
“Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so, but I am stuck.”
Lord, have mercy.
“Um, all right. How about I hold the curtain rod up so you can actually escape, and you try to manoeuvre out of the tub?”
The curtain rustles again.
“DeeDee?”
“Ah, ouais. I nodded.”
“All right.” The bathroom is so small I have to sit on the lid of the toilet to get into the right position. “Ready when you are.”
“WAIT!”
She’s going to give me a heart attack if she keeps the screaming up.
“What is it?”
“I’m naked!”
“Right.” Like I could forget. “I’ll grab the rod and then close my eyes.”
There are way too many puns about rod grabbing I could use here. I push the thoughts aside and lift the cheap plastic thing I bought when Paige and I first moved in, since the place didn’t even come with a curtain rod. Then I close my eyes.
If heaven is real, I’m earning my place there today. I don’t peak at DeeDee at all during the whole time it takes her to get up. I don’t even try to catch a glimpse through slitted eyes. I listen to all the rustling and huffing and squeaking, and I do my best not to imagine all the wiggling and crawling and crouching that’s going along with it.
“Et voilà!” she finally exclaims.
I open my eyes.
She screams again.
“I’m still naked!”
But I can’t look away. Not this time. Not when she’s standing there with her wet hair plastered to her shoulders and chest, the strands moulded to the curves of her breasts. She’s wrapped a towel around her waist. The water droplets trailing down her stomach catch the bathroom light just like the blue gemstone in her belly button ring.
That damn belly button ring.
It’s not like I haven’t seen it before; her crop tops always put it on display, but right now it feels like my whole world has shrunk down to her skin and that tiny piece of metal. I want to trace its outline with my tongue. Every perfect inch of her is so close all I’d have to do is reach out my hand and pull her to me.
“Zach—”
Her mouth hangs open like she had more to say, but she freezes, and her breath catches when her eyes lock with mine. Both our chests heave.
There’s something dangerous in the air, some flammable chemical just waiting for a match to fall. I can almost hear the tension, a sharp whine whose pitch gets higher and higher the longer we stare. My heart is trying to beat itself out of my chest, reaching for her since my hands don’t seem to be able to.
I want you.
The rhythm that pounds through my veins booms out those words.
I want you. I want you. I want you.
Then her phone buzzes with a text, and my eyes dart towards it. In that split second, whatever force had its hold around us slips, and once again, I feel it: like we were standing on the edge of a moment, a circle of light from a streetlamp we toed the line of and refused to step inside.
DeeDee turns away and shimmies her towel up higher, pausing to throw me a mocking look over her shoulder before she leaves the room. “It’s like you’ve never seen boobs before, dude.”
Dude.
One of the most intense moments of desire I’ve ever experienced in my life just occurred, and she called me dude.
I hear her close the door to Paige’s room, but I stay perched on the toilet lid for a long, long time. It takes a while to get my heart under control. Every time I think I’ve slowed my breathing and returned from the brink of cardiac arrest, I’ll picture her belly button ring, or the outline of her nipples hidden under that pink hair, and things rev back to life.
Two more days.
Two more days until Paige gets home and DeeDee heads wherever she’s going next. She told me she’s got it covered, and I didn’t press for details. I couldn’t bring myself to imagine her leaving. She hasn’t even been here a week, and I don’t remember what living here without her was like.
There were probably less broken shower curtains.
It takes me a few tries to get the rod back in place. By the time I emerge, DeeDee’s all dressed to go: crop top on, jean jacket thrown over her shoulder, and her still-damp hair done up in two little buns on top of her head. She wears it at work like that a lot. It’s one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. I stand there staring at her as something burns hot in my chest.
She looks up from where she’s digging through her purse in the living room, staring at me with the wide, round eyes of a deer in headlights. I watch her swallow as the air between us crackles again.
She has to feel this. She has to.
“See ya later!” She breezes right past me without slowing down. “Don’t wait up!”
Then the door is swinging shut behind her.
Hurricane DeeDee strikes again.
Work is futile after that—so futile that when Lisanne texts me to say her first official management shift at the bar is going to shit and three of the staff didn’t show up, I don’t even stop to consider the consequences to my business or how much I should say no before I’m slamming my laptop shut and grabbing my wallet and phone.
Nine
Zach
ON THE ROCKS: a drink poured over ice cubes
The chaos I walked into at the bar is all but over by midnight. The servers were fine as soon as they had an experienced employee leading them, and Lisanne assured me they’d be fine for the close when she told me to punch out.
I dig my phone out of my backpack after pulling my jacket on in the kitchen. I switch it off airplane mode, and a few texts pop up. The first two are from DeeDee, sent around 7PM.
Roomie couldn’t hang out very long. I’m almost home. You need anything at the store?
I got you chocolate, but I might eat it before you get home.
The third one is from Paige, sent at a quarter to eight.
Forgot to let you know my weekend set got cancelled. Coming home early. Should be there in fifteen minutes.
Oh.
Oh shit.
Just knocking on Paige’s door scares me. The idea of what she’d do upon finding a random stranger hanging out in her bedroom is beyond terrifying. I was planning on keeping DeeDee’s residency a solemn secret from Paige I’d take with me to the grave.
It’s been four hours since she was supposed to get home. That’s plenty of time to hide a body.
I jog all the way to my building, running through possible outcomes in my mind. I’ve never actually seen Paige get mad. I’ve just seen her look like she could get mad, and that’s bad enough.