It’s obviously empty. The sheets are rumpled but cold, as if he’s been up for a while. It doesn’t surprise me in the least. He strikes me as the type who believes sleep is optional and rest is earned, not given.
I push myself upright, grabbing my clothes from the chair by the window and tiptoeing toward the bathroom.
The door is open. The shower is not running.
I pause. This is important.
If the shower were running, this would be a nonstarter. I would turn around, go make coffee, resign myself to dirty hair and mild resentment. After all, there are rules about this.
But it’s silent, which means he hasn’t showered yet.
Which means—logically—I can be quick. Five minutes. In, out. No problem.
He’s busy with his protein shake or whatever nonsense he consumes before dawn. I can be efficient. I’m good at efficiency.
I step inside and close the door quietly behind me, stripping quickly before stepping into the shower and twisting the handle.
Water thunders down, and I begin to work fast, slathering my body and hair all in a quick flurry. I’m not luxuriating. I’m not thinking about anything except logistics and the fact that I desperately need coffee.
I’m reaching for the shampoo when there’s a knock on the door.
I freeze.
"Natalia."
His voice is calm. Not raised, but there’s an edge to it. However, I’m learning that Luka’s voice always has an edge.
"I need the bathroom."
"I’m almost done," I call back, trying to sound reasonable. "Two minutes."
"You know the rules, and you agreed to them. I think I’ve been more than fair letting you stay here, and now you’re breaking our agreement."
I close my eyes and blow out a breath.
"I know you have been, but I checked. The shower wasn’t running. I thought I had time."
"You didn’t."
I tilt my head back under the spray, water streaming down my face. "I’ll be quick. I promise."
"And I’ll be late if I wait on you, which is unacceptable." His voice is getting more agitated. "I leave before the lines form."
I scrub conditioner through my hair harder than necessary. "You’ll survive five minutes."
"I warned you."
"I’ll be out," I say. "I swear."
"I’m coming in."
My heart stutters.
"What?" I squeak out, half a shout. I couldn’t have heard him right.
"I won’t look," he continues. "But I’m getting my shower and you’re not making me late."
I laugh, sharp and disbelieving. "Absolutely not."
