When Ellis handed off my updated portfolio later that morning, he wasn’t acting any different than usual. He was back in his suit and barely had five minutes to spare for me. I’d totally let whatever happened last night get blown out of proportion in my head. Nothing creepy or unusual had gone down. Other than my own behavior.
After flipping through the new photos he was passing on to the “colossal” client, I realized he’d only added the nude poses from the start of the shoot. The ones where I’d gone out of my way to ensure my lady bits and pieces weren’t displayed. He said my expression looked awkward in the more revealing shots.
No wonder. It had been awkward being naked and hovered over by my agent who was sporting wood an arm’s length away.
It was after ten at night by the time I emerged from the subway tunnel close to the apartment. It had been a busy day, and I might have gone out of my way to make it extra busy since I was dreading whatever was waiting for me inside the apartment.
Soren had gotten some stuff off his chest this morning—but I knew there’d be more. He wasn’t the type who boxed stuff up or swept it under the rug.
My eyes wandered down the hall toward Mrs. Lopez’s apartment, and I wondered when I’d finally catch a glimpse of her. Next, I found myself wondering why I felt so heartbroken over pushing away the guy who was possibly banging the neighbor next door?
The bathroom door was closed, the sound of the shower cranking. With it being Monday, I knew Soren had worked a shift at the pub after school and practice. I’d been hoping to come home and find him passed out at the table, asleep on his books like I found him some mornings. He hadn’t gotten any sleep last night and had had a packed schedule today. He had to be tired.
Maybe after the shower, he’d be too tired to talk. Maybe he’d just want to crawl into bed. Maybe if I kept getting home late enough for the next couple of weeks, he’d just forget about the whole thing. It would become a distant memory. Never surfacing again.
Maybe not, I realized as I moved past the bathroom into the apartment. For doing a decent job of keeping his mess under wraps, he’d really let loose tonight. Baseball gear and his dirty uniform were scattered around the floor, his jockstraps hanging from the ceiling fan again. Dishes were scattered around the table and the kitchen, wads of crumpled up homework paper placed everywhere besides the inside of the garbage can. If this wasn’t his way of sending a message, I didn’t know what was.
I wasn’t sure if it was more a fuck you or a fuck me, but it unmistakingly gave the fuck it vibe.
Sighing, I did my best to ignore the disaster and headed for my clean, organized area. After changing into my pajamas, I waited a few minutes for him to finish his shower. Wasn’t happening. No way there was any hot water left. He’d been in there forever and who knew who long he’d been in before I got home.
Meandering back out into the apartment, I passed a few more minutes by pacing. I was tired and wanted to go to bed, but I couldn’t stand going to bed without brushing my teeth, and my toothbrush was in the bathroom.
As I paced, my eyes kept flickering to the jocks hanging from the fan. Mr. Giant. Jane’s latest nickname for Soren kept playing in my head until I found myself stepping onto one of the chairs and reaching for the nearest swinging jockstrap. Goodness gracious, what was I doing? I chided myself even as my fingers clasped the small tag inside the cup region so I could read . . .
XL
Mister Giant.
My legs teetered on the chair, practically spilling me over before I caught myself. Letting go of the tag, I lowered myself back to the floor, my face on fire as I glanced toward the bathroom to make sure he hadn’t caught me spying on the size of his jockstrap.
Why was I behaving like this? Like a shallow, petty girl who messed with a boy’s heart—and jockstraps—and played games like a seasoned pro? I didn’t play games. I’d heard of them, but I didn’t know the first rule or requirement of them.
Was I though? Playing some game? Playing a bunch of them?
Yeah, I liked Soren. No, I couldn’t be honest with him about that. It wasn’t a game I was playing; it was a matter of survival. The only man I’d been close to and loved had left. My dad. I never wanted to open myself up to that kind of pain again. I didn’t want to be left. Abandoned. I didn’t want to hurt someone because of those fears.
I couldn’t fall in love with Soren Decker. There was no deceit in that—it was one of the few truths I knew.
“Soren?” I made my way to the bathroom door and rapped on it.
No answer.
“Soren?” I tried, louder this time.
“Yeah?” he called from inside, the shower still blasting.
I pushed past the pain in my chest from hearing his voice. “I need to brush my teeth and go to bed. How much longer are you going to be?”
“A while.”
My forehead fell against the door as I calculated how long it would take me to get to the twenty-four-hour convenience store a half a mile away.
“You can just come in and brush your teeth if you want. I don’t care.”
Something about the way he said the last part made me shift in place. “You’re going to still be a while?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re not doing your . . .” I cleared my throat. “Self-love right now?”
“Took care of that earlier,” was his immediate response, making me glare at the door like Mrs. Lopez was about to show up with a plate of cookies and wearing lingerie.
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“Hayden, I don’t care what you do, okay?”
All right. So much for playing whatever game he’d thought I was interested in. He was not looking to score any points or win whatever game this had been as of this morning.
“Coming in,” I announced, opening the door and stepping inside. A plume of steam rolled over me, instantly coating my skin in a hot, dewy shield. “Hot shower?”
“Hell of a lot better than the cold one I took a couple of nights ago.”
His voice echoed off the walls as I focused on squeezing a glob of toothpaste onto my brush. It was difficult. I found myself quite distracted by the knowledge he was naked behind that thin shower curtain, a whole three feet away.
Just as I was about to stick my toothbrush into my mouth, the shower cranked off, the curtain whipping open right after.
Soren. Wet. Exposed.
Giant.
My eyes clamped shut, but it wasn’t fast enough. From the low chuckle he gave, he hadn’t missed my two-second gape.
“Soren!”
“Sorry. Water got cold.”
I gave him a few seconds to cover up before I opened my eyes and got back to brushing my teeth. He hadn’t covered up though.
“What are you doing? Grab a towel.” My arm flailed in the direction of where we kept our fresh towels hanging from the rack. My eyes felt like they were about to go crossed from staying focused on my reflection instead of his naked one in the same mirror.
“Out of fresh towels. Haven’t gotten around to the laundry.” He moved up beside me at the sink, reaching for his own toothbrush. He was standing so close, his wet arm was brushing against mine.
Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look at the giant—