And now he’s probably realizing that if I don’t check in at home, someone’s going to notice, and that’s going to be a problem.
If I were making the face that he’s making, that’s exactly what I’d be thinking.
But if he is, he doesn’t say it. Instead, he drops a duffel bag on the floor—one of the money bags—and turns with his suitcase in his other hand. “I’m taking a shower.”
“Cool. Don’t use all of the hot water.”
And now his expression is exactly what you’d expect of someone who has no idea the hot water might ever run out.
“That happens in regular houses or apartments,” I tell him. “My roommate has a friend who’s been staying over a lot this summer”—he’s her brother, but that’s none of Oliver’s business—“and he is such a hot-water hog.”
Oliver doesn’t thank me for the information.
He ignores me and carries his suitcase into the bathroom and pulls the sliding barn door shut behind him.
And then sighs very, very loudly.
It’s probably the echo of the sigh against the tile in the bathroom making the sound louder as it slips between the cracks of the door.
Barn doors for the bathrooms in hotel rooms might look pretty, but they donotgive the kind of privacy someone like Oliver would probably prefer.
It’s no picnic for me either, honestly.
I have to turn the television volume up to keep from hearing the sounds of him unzipping his pants.
Tossing his clothes on the floor.
Turning on the shower.
Sliding the shower door.
Is it possible to hear water hitting naked skin?
Because I’m positive I can hear water hitting naked skin.
And now I’m thinking about Oliver completely naked.
Head arched, water hitting his neck and collarbones, sluicing down his solid chest and abs to where he?—
Stop it, Daphne.
I snap my attention back to the television, where Heidi from Scranton is arguing with Todd from Portland about something to do with the plumbing in the castle.
Plumbing.
Water.
Naked Oliver.
I should’ve called Bea while he was gone, but I didn’t know how long he’d be, I can’t see the car from our windows, and I didn’t want to get caught with my new burner phone. I powered it up long enough to check and make sure she hadn’t texted, and then powered it off and shoved it back into my dirty laundry.
Oliver sighs again.
This one sounds like the sigh of a man who’s having his first hot shower in weeks.
You know the one.
Thewater is a miracle and I can’t get enough and how do I get to live in times when I can turn a knob and have this magical device on the wall pound my shoulders with hot water?sigh.
