“You better keep those away from me.” I glare at him. “You might wake up one morning to find your balls have been chopped off in your sleep.”
“I’m shaking.”
I close my eyes and try to tap back into how peaceful I felt in my dream. No can do.
“Get out of here,” I sigh.
I start to turn toward the sink—very much prepared to ignore him until he leaves—but my foot goes sliding across the damp tiles instead. I flail my arms, expecting the worst.
“No no no!”
I’m falling at a dangerously sharp angle, but Lane rushes to meet me, the knives clattering to the ground as he clasps my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. I grasp his T-shirt for balance, panting hard against his neck. The guy deserves an A for reflex, that’s for sure.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I grumble, trying to wriggle free of his grip and quickly retightening the towel.Kill me now.
“Like it’s my fault you can’t take a shower unassisted?”
“Well, it’s your fault I’m half asleep in the shower in the middle of the night, don’t you think?” I press a hand to his annoying-as-hell lips. “Don’t answer that!”
I can feel him laughing against my hand, and I fight the urge to jab him in the tonsils.
“I know you can’t wait to see me leave.” My voice is coming quieter now. “I don’t need that kind of showdown to remind me.”
He frowns as he pushes my hand away and releases his grip on my shoulders.
“I swear it wasn’t intentional,” he says slowly. “I forgot you were there, and I still have no idea how, by the way.”
I take a deep breath in and ready myself to reply, but the look on his face says he’s telling the truth. Still, though…
“If that happens again, I swear I’ll make damn sure youneverforget I was here.” The words come spilling out of me in one breath.
“Trust me, I won’t be forgetting this anytime soon.”
“Perfect!”
“Sweet!”
“Great! Now leave.”
“Okay, okay. I’m leaving.” His eyes drift down, then back up, lingering a second longer, before he steps into the hallway.
LANE SPENDS THE REST OFhis Sunday in bed while I study. First round of exams will be starting soon, and I haven’t exactly been a grade-A student the past two weeks, so I keep my eyes glued to my books and laptop screen, even when he busies himself in the kitchen and joins me on the couch to watch TV that evening.
We don’t speak, and that’s fine by me. Whenever we talk, it turns into a verbal boxing match, and I’m finding it harder and harder to bite my tongue. In my study breaks, I browse rental websites, but still come up short. Every now and then, I can feel his eyes on me, checking the screen over my shoulder, and I freeze up, but he’s decent enough to keep his comments about me failing to find a new place to stay to himself. In fact, it’s been a while since he reminded me that the clock is ticking.
I SLIP INTO THE WATERin my curve-control one-piece, ready for my very first water aerobics class. It’s just the right temperature, and I spend a few minutes bobbing around at the end of the pool, far away from the rest of the class. I don’t even need to look up to know when Ethan arrives—there’s a flurry of excitement, and I swim my way over to the back row, gliding between two silver swim-capped classmates.
“Oh, a newcomer!” the woman to my right says, glancing at me.
I nod, smiling, as I tug my cap into place.
“Oh, a newcomer!” the woman to my left chimes in.
I smile at her, too, before frowning. They look so similar, it’s uncanny. I look back and forth between them. Might be the matching caps.
Ethan kicks us off, and by the time we wrap up the last exercise, my legs are Jell-O and my cap is cutting into my forehead. When Ethan finally calls it, I wobble off toward the changing room.
Think positive thoughts.
