Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“You’re not.”
I give my interpretation of sleepwear a subtle glance. I’m in a plain white ribbed tank top, blue gym shorts, and sandals. I shrug. “This is what I sleep in. You telling me you sleep in a bathrobe?” I ask, lifting it up. He makes one more grab at it—and misses, since I’m quicker yet again and pull away. “You want this back, let me go in first.”
He glares at me. “Dude, you’re crazy.”
“I am. Muy loco, mi amigo. And you’re apparently not that bright. I’d have put on a pair of boxers underneath the robe at the very least, not gone all commando.”
“What I wear or don’t wear isn’t your business.”
“True. Except right now, it seems like it’s very much my business.”
I hug the robe to my chest as I cross my arms, then smirk at him. It’s kind of adorable, how vulnerable he is, trapped in the bathroom without a single shred of clothing, desperately needing me to yield the robe in my possession back to him.
Honestly, I’m kind of enjoying this power.
“Dude,” he says, “I dunno who you are, I dunno who ruined your night, but it wasn’t my fault, and I want my robe back.”
“Bathroom first.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “How petty are you?”
“It may seem petty to you, but it’s the principle of it. I was here first, waiting patiently for my turn. Or is patience something you don’t understand?”
“I’m not gonna ask again. Give me my robe.”
“Looks like you’re not in a position to make demands.”
Even when his eyes narrow, they’re still burning blue and striking.
Especially when the anger in his eyes seems to fade, and at once, his whole tone of voice changes as he tries a different strategy. “Alright,” he relents, losing all attitude. “Sorry for cutting in front of you or whatever. I’m on my way outta this shit show of a party anyway. I just needed to take a quick leak, and … to be honest with you, I haven’t had the best day.”
“Me neither.”
He meets my eyes. “So can I have my robe back? One miserable dude to another? I’ll let you have the bathroom.”
I consider him thoughtfully, enjoying my power for one last moment.
Something inside of me gives away. “I highly suggest tying it tighter next time. This slipped off of you like butter off a hot knife.”
“Noted.”
I finally extend the robe to him. After a curious look at me, as if wondering if I’ll pull away again, he gently takes the robe back and slips behind the door to put it on. Once dressed, he steps out of the bathroom and gestures back at it. “All yours.”
“You look better with it on.”
He squints, still wearing that curious expression as he peers at me. “Huh?”
“The robe. In a sea of everyone showing everything they’ve got, the robe makes you … interesting.”
The guy doesn’t seem to have much going on upstairs. He just stares at me with his pretty blue eyes, mystified by my words.
“I think I didn’t have to pee in the first place,” I realize out loud. “I just wanted somewhere to disappear to. I’ll just take a walk around the block instead. At least … until my friends are finally ready to jet.” I nod at the bathroom. “Enjoy your leak, Mr. Robe.”
“Seriously? After all of that …?”
“Sorry. I’m fickle. It’s an artist’s nature.” I start to go.
“Wait. I … I didn’t get your name.”
I peer back at him. I’m not sure what to make of this guy. A part of me is trying desperately not to write him off as another dumb hunk with a dick and pretty eyes. Another part of me is certain that’s all he is.
Strangely, I wouldn’t expect a guy like that to care for the first thing about me. Especially my name.
“Sorry,” I tell him, “but you’re not my type.”
He squints at me in confusion.
“Besides,” I go on, “meeting the love of my life in the bathroom of a house that smells like a foot isn’t a story I want to tell my kids someday. They will deserve better.”
He’s stunned.
Or scared.
Maybe I’ve broken his brain.
“I’m Quintin,” I finally give in, “and it’s time for me to go, and time for you to … go-go.” As he continues to stare at me in bafflement, I saunter down the hall and tuck away my phone, deciding not to let anything or anyone bother me for the rest of the damned weekend. I’m not here for any pretty boys, pesky dads, or grumpy professors.
I’m here for my art.
And maybe also for the intoxicating scent of cologne still lingering on my hands from clutching that guy’s robe.
Chapter 6 - Adrian
Not his type …??
I’m still working it out in my head as I stand over the toilet peeing my brains out, staring at my warped reflection in the shiny white tiles on the wall.