“Joke’s on you, love,” Josh said as he stood up. “The lock is broken. So you’ll have to trust me.”
I swallowed hard and stared up at him. “Are you sure I’m not in your way? If you have anything to do… anyone to meet or whatever… I can show myself out.”
“If I wanted you to show yourself out, I would have told you to leave by now,” he said. “I kind of just do whatever I want, love. Whenever I want.”
“And what’s on your mind then? What’s your next project?”
Josh looked back at me and grinned. “You.”
I put my clothes into a small pile on the floor of the bathroom. The walls were old white tiles and the floor bigger white tiles. The shower had glass doors that resisted when you pulled them open. With a towel around my body, I wiggled my toes waiting for the hot water to kick in. I had looked at the doorknob fifty times, seeing the old slide lock and that it was indeed broken.
Not that I would expect Josh to come busting into the bathroom.
Then again, it was Josh.
I really didn’t feel like going back to my apartment. I didn’t want to deal with Grace. With all the cat stuff around the apartment. Or hear what she had to say about life. The sad truth was that I kept a bag packed in my car at all times. And not just a small bag either. But a bag with enough clothes and personal items to last me a few days. I wasn’t sure why I did it… maybe there was a part of my soul that wanted to be reckless and just pack up and leave.
That bag was on the floor next to my clothes.
I stuck my hand into the water and pulled it back quickly.
I shook my hand.
It was ice cold.
I jiggled the handle and the water was not getting hot.
Not even warm.
“Damn,” I whispered.
I inched back to the door and bit my lip. I looked at my clothes.
I really didn’t want to get dressed just to ask Josh for help.
I opened the door a little and saw him near the large windows. Standing in a long-sleeved shirt. He had changed. At least his shirt. But his jeans were the same. His bed-head the same. He faced off with an easel and was scribbling something beautiful on a white canvas.
“Josh?”
He turned and his eyes went wide. “Love?”
“There’s no hot water.”
“Ah, shit,” he said. “You have to push it really hard.”
“I did that.”
“Okay. Trade spots with me then.”
I inched back and felt my cheeks burning as he entered the bathroom.
He shut the door and looked right at me.
I shivered inside the towel. I felt naked, which I was, underneath it. But my shoulders were exposed. My arms exposed. Some of my legs. My feet. The towel hugging against me in a way that didn’t make me feel good.
Josh stared for a few seconds and then walked to the shower. He reached in and gave the handle a twist and pushed. There was a metal pop sound.
“There,” he said. “It’s all old pipes. Sorry about that.”
A few seconds later steam started to rise up from the shower.
“Thank you,” I said. “Sorry to bother you while you were drawing.”
“Nothing to worry about.”
Josh moved toward the door and I moved toward the shower.
I waited to hear the door open and shut so I could take off the towel and get into the finally hot water.
Except I didn’t hear a sound.
As I started to turn my head, I felt Josh touch me.
His hands against my hips.
I looked down and saw his fingers over the towel, touching me.
A moment later, his body was against mine.
My hands started to shake. The steam in the bathroom seemed to be collecting even faster now.
He waited, just holding there.
I moved my right hand to his right hand.
I had two choices. Peel his hand away. Or move it where I wanted it.
My heart and mind battled in the loudest argument I’d ever heard.
But it was also the shortest too.
I shut my eyes and pulled his right hand up to the top of the towel.
I let his hand go and took a shuddering breath.
His fingertips touched the bare skin of the top of my chest. Without hesitation, he pulled, opening the towel. It fluttered a little then fell down to my feet.