I swallowed, remembering myself. “Because I’m cleaning the men’s bathroom. Happens every night about this time.”
I felt his small chuckle before he released me and stepped back. I adjusted my shirt and bent over to pick up the clean toilet brush he’d held hostage from my cart. In that time, Duke had managed to grab the cleaner and the toilet brush I’d actually been using and strode into one of the stalls.
“Duke. Please don’t.” I could only handle so much humiliation in one night, and the idea of him cleaning toilets for me was too much. I didn’t want his pity. I didn’t want him to be so nice.
“You’re in luck. My mom always assigned me to clean the bathrooms growing up because I would much rather clean toilets than any other chore.” His voice sounded muffled inside the stall, but I could hear the squeak and spray of the cleaner.
“You better hope you’re not lying, because when you get married, I’m going to tell your wife what you said, and you’ll be done for.”
“Great. I love it.”
“Liar.”
“Tell me why you were crying.”
“Is this some weird form of blackmail?” I asked.
Duke flushed the toilet and moved into the next stall. I couldn’t watch it any longer, so I began cleaning the countertop and sinks.
“Nope. Just asking a friend if she’s okay.”
A friend. The words should have brought me comfort. And maybe they did to some small degree, but a huge wave of humiliation washed over me again.
“I don’t really want to talk about it. I’m okay. I got a little sad. The end.”
Duke was quiet for a bit after this, the sound of toilets being scrubbed a constant reminder of the mortification of it all. “Just tell me this, is it anything at RDM making you sad? Is someone not treating you right?”
“No. Nothing like that.” My mind briefly shot to Anita’s face, but I dismissed the idea. I could handle mean girls. And after the summer, one of us would be going home, so I’d never have to see her again.
Another flush and he moved into the second to last stall. We worked quietly, both engrossed in our tasks. I wiped down the mirrors before grabbing the mop, starting in the back. The silence was killing me. KILLING me. But do you know what sound was killing me even more? The sound of Duke scrubbing the toilets.
“Can we please talk about something else, if you insist on helping me? This is so weird.”
“Sure.” He waited a moment and then added, “The other day I found this weird abscess on my—“
“STOP.”
I turned in time to see him step out of the stall, his tie askew and a teasing smile on his face. For a moment I just blinked at him, taking in the devastating pull of Duke Webber. I wanted another hug, dang it.
“Ok. Can we talk about how you were sitting on the men’s urinal when I first walked in here?”
“It was clean, okay! I scrubbed the whole thing. Please don’t make me cry again.”
Silence fell between us. I could feel him staring at me, though I couldn’t meet his eyes.
“Hey,” he said, and even across the room, the sound of his voice brushed across my skin like a feather. I turned from him and made a noise to indicate that I’d heard. His voice sounded soft and tender, and I couldn’t do soft and tender at the moment. I was one shot of tender away from—
A hand at my arm startled me. I reluctantly lifted my gaze up to his.
“I would never want to make you cry. Ever.”
Instantly, my eyes were a running faucet, my features morphing into my ugly cry face. It’s like that moment when you’ve been having a bad day and you keep telling everyone that you’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine. Then someone looks you in the eye and asks how you’re doing, and you completely break down. I whirled back around, dropping the handle of the mop to hide my face behind my hands.
“Well, that’s ironic,” I sobbed.
He took a few steps toward me, but I held him off with a hand. I was now a horrifying mix of laughter and tears.
“I’m okay! Really. I’m just on a roll now and can’t stop.”
