Lucky him.
“I don’t want to get paint on this place either,” he said, glancing around. A frown darkened his face. “Huh. Guess I’ll stand and wait for you to get out. If I sit down I’ll probably lean back by accident and turn everything red.”
I weighed up my options.
Maybe it was the blow to the head, but I wasn’t feeling particularly strong on the willpower just then.
And besides… why resist it? He’d kissed me already, so I knew he was probably interested. He’d rescued me from paintball and brought me back here to nurse me, which I figured he deserved a reward for. He’d even brought me that special drink this morning to help me with my head.
Plus, the worst that could happen would be that he would say he wasn’t interested – and considering I’d had a recent blow to the head on top of a hangover, I had a very easy way out of any embarrassment.
“Well, we could shower together,” I suggested, shrugging lightly.
Brody’s eyes caught mine and I swear I nearly caught on fire.
“Really?” he asked. The intensity in his gaze was only matched by one thing: his vulnerability. I could see he’d tried to mask it, or at least fight it by asking the question – but his voice trembled, just slightly.
Like he was really sayingplease say this isn’t some horrible prank because you think I should be humiliated for hurting your friend, like everyone else seems to.
I wet my lips. In that moment I think I understood for the first time just how bad things had been for Brody. There was a pain hidden deep within his eyes that I could finally see.
“Sure,” I said, ducking my head away casually and pretending that I hadn’t seen a thing. I didn’t need to pile anxiety onto anxiety for him. Besides, I was the one who had been feeling shy about my body. Didn’t he know I wouldn’t joke about a thing like this?
I didn’t say another word as I headed to the bathroom. My heart pounded in my chest, tight against my ribcage, as I waited for him to follow me. For a long, awful moment, I thought he was refusing.
Then he turned on his heel, as if his body was just catching up to his brain, and reached the bathroom just as I was reaching for the hem of my shirt to lift it up over my head.
“Wait!” he called out.
I froze.
Oh, no.
I’d got it wrong, hadn’t I? He was trying to stop me from undressing. This wasn’t a catch-up-to-shower-together walk, it was a catch-up-to-tell-me-no-thanks walk.
“Your hair,” Brody said, and for a second I had absolutely no idea what he meant. “Let me help you so you don’t get red paint on your shirt.”
I swallowed hard as he carefully lifted my shirt over my head, bunching the fabric in his hands so it stayed far away from my hair, keeping it clean. Once it was off, he turned and draped it carefully over the side of a chair near the bathroom door.
I felt like I couldn’t even move.
“Could you help me with mine?” he asked.
I had to swallow again and nod stiffly. I didn’t trust myself to talk. My hands were shaking lightly as I reached for his shirt, and I had to will them to stop.
What the hell was wrong with me?
He hadn’t even touched me, and yet…
I felt like my legs were going to give way.
I lifted his shirt over his head – clumsily, sparing his shirt by luck rather than by skill, and then tossed it over onto the same chair as mine. It missed and hit the floor. Brody watched it and chuckled.
“Never mind,” he said, waving a hand. “Leave it.”
I bit my lip.
“This shower,” I said. My mouth was dry.
