“Great.”
I’m in and out of the shower in minutes. And it’s not because I’m excited to watch TV with Lucky. Well, part of it is. The other part? Their bathroom is disgusting. I had to grab one of the cleaners I brought to scrub out the shower floor before I stepped inside. I’m amazed none of these guys has a foot fungus.
It gives me pause.Maybe they do.
I quickly dress and make a plan to clean the entire bathroom in the morning. It’s the least I can do. For their health.
In the living room, I smile at the sight before me. Lucky on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, and a big bowl of popcorn in his lap. “Ooh, popcorn.” I rub my hands together.
“No butter.” He winks. “Just like you like it.”
I flush at his words. The fact that he remembered that I hate butter on my popcorn makes me feel… funny. Happy, though. Shaking it off, I move to the couch and sit next to him. I reach into the bowl and grab a handful.
“Shower good?”
I stop with my hand about an inch from my face. Giving him my best stink eye, I say, “After I scrubbed the shower floor.”
“You cleaned the shower?”
Leaning forward, I look at Lucky’s feet. He’s not wearing socks. Weird. Who knew feet could be sexy? I mean, I feel tingles just from the sight of them. They’re big, like the rest of him, but well groomed. Clipped toenails, and no hair on his toes like both my brothers’ feet. Theirs look like Chewbacca feet. Not Lucky’s, though.
“What’re you looking at?” He’s leaning forward now, looking at his feet too.
“Just wondering if you have any fungus.”
“Huh?” He sounds startled.
“That shower?” I shake my head. “Disgusting. I’m shocked you don’t have green feet.”
Once again, I hear him laugh. Sitting up straight, I look over at him. He’s really laughing this time. His head is back, and I watch his Adam’s apple move up and down. Sexy. Very sexy. “Jesus, Foxy…”
And that’s when I smile, because not only have I made him laugh a bunch today, I’ve now got a nickname—one just between Lucky and me, and there’s nothing, and I mean nothing, better than that.
7
Becklyn
When I wakethe next morning, he’s gone. To say I’m disappointed, well, that’s an understatement. I mean, we had such a good time last night. He chose the movie—a war movie, which was such a guy thing to pick. Not only that, it was boring as heck, but it didn’t matter because I was watching it withhim. Rest assured, I know all there is to know about the first world war now. Not true but it feels that way.
Anyway, when I get up, I tiptoe to the bathroom to check myself in the mirror. I don’t want him to see me like—well—like me in the morning, which is quite scary. I peek in the living room first. He isn’t there. Next, the kitchen. Not there either. What I do find is a note.
Becklyn,
Had stuff to do. See you around.
-L
And that’s it. Not gonna lie, I’m disappointed he didn’t address me as Foxy. Maybe that was just a thing from last night.
Why am I bummed out? What did I expect? He’s busy. He’s a senior here at U of I. He’s a physical therapy major, and that takes lots of time, because in addition to classes, he does stuff at a clinic here in town as part of his degree. That’s what Joe told me once, anyway. It makes sense.
Yeah, he’s busy. Too busy to hang with me all weekend.
Besides. I’m busy too. My paper for Comp 106 isn’t going to write itself.
* * *
I’ve barely gotmy foot in the door when Deena asks, “How was it?”
