“Here, just open the door a crack and I’ll pass it to you,” he says from the other side of the door. “I’ve got it right here.”
Of course he has it. Why wouldn’t he bring it with him? He’s a nice guy. He would have seen that I forgot it and brought it to me. “It’s okay. Really. I’ll be out in a second. I can come grab it.”
“Seriously, Becca. I have it in my hand right now. Just open the door a tiny put and put your hand out and take it. I’ll close my eyes and look away if you’re worried I’ll see something that a friend shouldn’t see.”
Ha! If he only knew why I was really worried.
Should I just open it? What if the smell of my vagina seeps out into the hallway, like some olfactory beacon of my desire, and he figures out how turned on I am? Or worse, what if he thinks I’ve been in here masturbating while he waits to tattoo me? Fuck. I need to open the door.
“Okay, I’m opening the door,” I say, opening it a crack and poking just my hand out. “Give me the towel. Quick.”
Johnny laughs. “Now you’re in a hurry? You’ve been in there for ages playing with the hand dryer and now you’re concerned about time?” He puts the towel in my hand and I pull it inside with me before pushing the door closed with my body. “What have you even been doing in there?”
“Definitely not masturbating, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I blurt out, before slamming my hands over my mouth.What the fuck was that, Becca? Of course he thinks you’re masturbating now.
“What?!” he yells just outside the door, a laugh at the edge of his voice.
“I mean, ha ha, that would be hilarious, right?” I wrap the towel around my waist and grab my underwear and pants. I can do this. Deep breath.
It still smells like vagina and sex in here.
I open the door and step out into the hall, closing it behind me as I walk through. Maybe if I can minimize how long the door remains open, the smell will dissipate before Johnny smells anything.
“Hey, head on in, and I’ll be right there. I just need to go to the bathroom and wash up.”
“NO!” I yell, grabbing his arm to stop him from opening the door. “I mean, no,” I add smoothly. “You, uh, you can’t go in there yet. I…” I search around in my brain, praying for a reasonable explanation to reveal itself to me. I find one, but it’s not much better than the truth. Fuck it, I’m going for it, anyway. “That diner breakfast did a number on me,” I say, rubbing my stomach to really sell the lie. “After what I just did, you’re going to want to let it air out in there for a while.” I’m cringing on the inside. Of course, everyone poops, but it’s not something I would normally announce to a good-looking man while I’m standing half-naked beside him. The only good thing about it is after this there’s no way he could ever be attracted to me again.
Friend zone locked in. Johnny will forever remember me as the woman stunk up his bathroom at the tattoo shop.
Awesome.
And then the strangest thing happens. Johnny laughs. An honest to goodness laugh, too, not one of those uncomfortable I’m-trying-to-be-polite laughs.
“Don’t even worry about that,” he says. “This place is practically swimming in disinfectant. It’s the only thing anyone can ever smell in here. I’m sure it’s fine. Be right back.” And before I can pull on him again, he slips out of my grasp and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
The bathroom that smells like my vagina. The sex bathroom. The attraction bathroom.
Well, that’s that I guess.
I’ll just go lay on the tattoo table and die of embarrassment. I hope Alex convinces my mom to cremate me and spread my ashes somewhere with an amazing view, like I’ve always wanted.
