“And what’s that?” I have no idea what she’s going to say next.
She takes a few seconds to contemplate. Drawing it out for dramatic effect.
“A shower.” Her eyes are mischievous and needy.
Fuck.
“You got it.” I stand up and reach my hand out. She grabs it, stands slowly, and squeezes. We make eye contact. Her eyes remind me of trees in the height of summer.
I lead her upstairs. At least she’s not walking in front of me and parading that perfect ass.
I get her situated to take a shower. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t itching to get in there with her. She doesn’t need me coming on to her. Especially when she’s drunk.
“Only one bed,” she whispers. I swear she’s smiling. I don’t know how to respond, so I act like I don’t hear her.
Once in the bathroom, she lets her hair down just to put it in a different messy bun on top of her head.
“Help yourself to whatever you need,” I say, wanting to get out of there. I set a towel on the counter. She nods in understanding. “I’ll be downstairs.”
I shut the door and then find a change of clothes for her. I toss a shirt and a pair of gym shorts with a drawstring on the bed.
Need ripples through my own body every step I get further away from her. I don’t know if it’s the protective part of me wanting to keep her safe or something else. It’s not because she can’t take care of herself but because it feels like she’s done it for solong.
I reach the bottom of the stairs when I hear a loud thud. The kind of sound a body would make when it falls in the shower.
Oh god.
“Ivy?!” I’m taking the stairs two at a time to get to the loft. “Are you okay?”
She hasn’t responded.
My brain immediately goes through terrible scenarios: blood everywhere, her unconscious, a bone sticking out of her arm.
“Ivy. I’m coming in!” I announce as I step into the bathroom.
I pull the shower curtain back and see her on the floor of the tub. There’s no blood, but she seems to be shaking. Is she having a seizure? I get a little closer and realize she’s laughing. Ivy is hysterically laughing, naked, in my shower.
“What the hell happened?” I make sure to look at her face and only her face.
She pops her eyes open, still laughing. “I slipped but I’m fine. And then the water was pelting me in the face. And then I thought about what I must’ve looked like… have you ever seen a baby giraffe trying to walk?” She’s crying now, from laughing so hard. Thank god.
“Did you hit your head?” A head injury is not how we need this day to end.
“No, I swear. It was more of a slip right onto my ass.” At this point, she takes one hand and drapes it across her breasts and turns her hips away from me. Basically, showing me the side of said ass, making it harder to keep my eyes on her face. “Ah, it feels good to laugh,” she says.
I exhale and my shoulders relax. I hang my head and shake it slowly, catching my breath. My heart is still pounding.
“What’s the matter?” Ivy asks.
“I thought I was going to come in here and you were going to be bleeding from your head or something. But nope. You’rejust laughing,” I say as I look around the bathroom. I’m looking for anything to distract me from a naked Ivy in the shower.
It’s not really working.
“Aww, poor Holland,” she teases me.
I give her a look and reach for the shower curtain.
“Wait,” Ivy says, her hands still covering herself. “Why don’t you come in here?” she asks, as smoothly as if she’s asking for me to pass her something on the dinner table.
