Only when she came back downstairs, he was out of the bathroom.
Just there, leaned against the frame, with nothing but a towel on.
And that was kind of a lot on top of everything else.
She had to look away without seeming like she was looking away—like at the quarry, like in the closet, like all the times when things had seemed too naked and too weird and on the verge of something unhinged. Only now, they reallywerein the aftermath of a sexual event. Now they really had crossed some kind of line. And on top of this, she was currently trying to hand him some clothes. So it wasn’t exactly easy to seem casual.
She couldn’t even manage to avoid seeing his body.
She caught at least three glimpses of a nipple, amid the fumbling. Then somehow, she ended up dropping the shirt she had grabbed for him. And when she stooped to snag it, oh the things she accidentally saw, courtesy of the split in the too-small towel.
Shadowy things. Heavy-looking things. Things that immediately made her face heat up.
Worse: she started sweating. Like her whole body had caught a fever.
And the only thing that saved her was him getting completely the wrong idea. “Oh jeez, you’re completely mortified. I’ve mortified you. By being a giant pervert who you’re never gonna want to speak to again in case I accidentally do whatever that was when you do,” he rushed out, in a voice so broken and full of remorse she had to do something about it.
She’dwantedhim to do it.
And okay, not for weird, sexy reasons. But still.
“You’re not a pervert, Seth. Everything you did was fine.”
“You can’t really think that. It was awful. It’s still awful. I just flashed you.”
“No, you didn’t. I shouldn’t have looked in that direction.”
“Don’t blame yourself for my dick being right there.”
He pointed in the direction of whereright therewas.
But of course she didn’t look. No matter how tempted she was.
“It’s right there because all my grandmother’s towels are the size of postage stamps. I’m surprised you even managed to close it around you at all, never mind doing it in a way that doesn’t leave a gaping triangle,” she said instead. And was pleased with the amount of exasperation she got into her voice. Then she turned around, and he rustled the clothes on, and everything was fine.
Very oddly silent, but fine.
She even asked if she could turn back around.
And got this from him, when she did:
“It’s gonna sound weird if I say no, right?”
“Maybe it won’t if you explain why I shouldn’t.”
“Okay,” he tried. “So, uh. These sweatpants are a little bit tight on me.”
“They can’t be that tight. My butt could eat your butt for breakfast.”
She heard him make an annoyed sound. “Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing. Or use the words ‘eat’ and ‘your butt’ in the same sentence. Or tell me that I must be wrong, because, hoo boy, I am not, and not because of any ass-based reasons.”
Don’t ask him what he means by that middle bit, she told herself.
And thankfully succeeded.
“Then what are the reasons based on?”
“Let’s just say these sweatpants are riding super high.”
