I step beneath the spray, allowing my dark hair to soak for long seconds as the heat moves through my sore muscles.
Reaching for the shampoo, my fingers linger over the familiar bottle.
What the…
The matching conditioner sits on the ledge beside it, and then a few inches away is another product I’m all too familiar with.
My favorite body wash.
It’s just a coincidence, I try to rationalize with myself, but my chest tightens as I move through the motions of washing my hair.
Why does Colten have my favorite products in his shower? Did another woman leave them here, and he’s just using them up? That seems like it could be the case, and although the products are different brands, I doubt I’m the only woman that likes smelling like a cupcake in my day-to-day life.
The real question is, why does the idea of Colten having another woman here burn so badly?
I accepted a long time ago that we would never be anything more than friends, and I figured eventually my crush would fade,but I’m pretty confident living under the same roof is going to bring it all back to the surface.
Once I’m out of the shower, my skin is pink from the temperature of the water.
It wouldn’t be a girl shower if it wasn’t hellfire.
I wrap a fluffy towel around myself and step up to the vanity, which is when I spot the contents of the counter, and the backs of my eyes burn with unshed tears.
My favorite perfume.
Does Colten have a girlfriend I don’t know about?
He didn’t mention anything at the restaurant last night, but maybe they’ve broken up and this is the stuff she left behind?
The thought shouldn’t have my heart aching, but it does.
As selfish as this is, the fact Colten has never dated has made me feel less alone and allowed the flame of hope I’d never been able to extinguish to keep burning.
But thinking a man like Colten wouldn’t have a line of women begging to be his girlfriend is naïve.
By the time I peek my head out of the bathroom door, checking to make sure the bedroom is clear, I’m a bundle of nerves for all the wrong reasons.
I was attacked a few hours ago. Someone who knows about my side hustle found me, broke into the house while I was sleeping, and could have killed me…or worse. And yet for some reason I’m spiraling about whether Colten is dating?
I’m so fucked up.
My bag is nowhere to be seen, and I sigh, brushing my hand down my face. He left it in the living area before our tour, and I forgot to bring it in before I showered.
Fuck.
I clutch the towel against my chest and tiptoe forward. I’m not totally sure why I think I need to be so quiet, but I don’t have the mental capacity to analyze any of that right now.
Now that I’m alone in here, I take my time looking over the space. The large bed is covered in dark-gray sheets that are similar to the ones I have on my bed at home. The room is mostly necessities. A dresser with a large television on top of it, a bedside table on either side of the bed, and a chest that probably contains blankets or something.
But there are a few things that have me crossing to the far side of the room.
The only photo in the room is one of Cruz, Colten, and me when we were teenagers. A rare family event that he was allowed to attend. The grainy photo that came from one of our cell phones has always been a favorite of mine, and I can’t help but smile that he has it right beside his bed.
Next to the photo is a figurine I gave him many years ago. A dolphin, my favorite animal when I was younger, that at the time, he needed more than I did. It was a symbol of the freedom we both craved but seemed impossible.
I spot a small pile of shirts folded neatly on the dresser and pluck one from the top. I may not have panties, but considering Colten is almost a full foot taller than me, I can’t see it being a problem.
My ribs twinge as I pull the soft fabric over my head, smoothing it around my thighs.
