Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
I jerked in surprise then realized he’d seen our bathmat. “Nice, right?” I asked, leaning to the side so he’d get the full effect. “Nothing but the best for this apartment.”
“Only you would find somethin’ like that,” he said as I scooted around him in the doorway.
“It’s a gift,” I sang. “Give me a sec and I’ll grab you a towel. We don’t have enough space to keep ’em in here.”
I hurried into my room and plugged in my curling iron before grabbing him a towel. When I got back to the bathroom, Draco was staring at himself in the mirror, rubbing his hand over his chin.
“I’ve got a new razor somewhere if you want to shave,” I said, coming to a stop in the doorway.
He shook his head. “Nah, think I’ll let it grow.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked easily.
“The hair, too,” he said, running a hand over the top of his head.
“Going for the mountain man look?” I asked. “I approve. It’s very in right now.”
Draco laughed. “Give me that,” he ordered, taking the towel from me.
“Curt will be back soon with clothes,” I replied. “His apartment is just one building over.”
“Yeah, he pointed it out on the way in last night,” he replied.
I opened my mouth to ask him about not wanting to see Curt’s place, but shut it again without saying anything. That was between the two of them—they could figure it out without me interfering.
“Hey, Charlie,” Draco said, leaning out of the bathroom as I walked away. “I’m gonna lock this. Tell Curt to leave the clothes outside the door, alright?”
“No problem,” I said, my stomach twisting in something that felt a little like sympathy and a little like anger.
He’d spent the last four years showering in a group, having zero privacy, watching his back every second of every day. I imagined it probably felt like a sweet luxury to be able to shower in privacy behind a locked door.
Deliberately thinking of something else, the only way I’d been able to get through Draco’s imprisonment without losing my goddamn mind, I sat down at my desk and pulled out the little makeup mirror I kept for the days when Kara and I had to get ready at the same time. It wasn’t ideal for doing my hair, but I’d make it work.
I was pretty much done with my hair and makeup by the time Curt came back.
“You didn’t lock the door behind me,” he accused, stomping down the hallway.
“I figured you did when you left,” I argued, rolling my eyes. “You have a key. Use it.”
“Draco showering?” he asked.
I cocked my head, listening. “Sounds like he’s done. He said to leave the clothes outside the door.”
Curtis raised one eyebrow. “Got it.” He turned and took a couple steps to the bathroom door. “Brought you clothes, bro,” he called through the door. “Brought you some deodorant, too.”
“Don’t use it,” I yelled. “He’s got a fungus in his pits!”
“I don’t have a fuckin’ fungus,” Curtis shot back. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“He’s just embarrassed,” I shouted so Draco could hear me. “It’s nasty! Oozing!”
“There’s something seriously wrong with you,” Curtis replied, staring at me in horror. “I don’t have a fuckin’ fungus. Where the hell do you even come up with this shit?”
“Sorry,” I yelled. “My bad. It’s on his balls, not his armpits. The deodorant is probably safe!”
The bathroom door opened less than a foot.
“Bad deal, man,” Draco said, reaching for the stack of clothes in Curtis’ arms. “You should probably get that checked out.”
“I don’t have fungus on my balls, either,” Curtis said stubbornly as the door closed in his face. “You’re both assholes.”
“First step in solving a problem is admitting you have one,” I told him, shaking my head sadly. I screamed as he took a single menacing step toward me.
“I’ll be out wiping my fungus balls all over your couch,” he said, flipping me off.
“You touch my couch with your nasty parts and I’ll cut them off,” I yelled as he strode away.
Fifteen minutes later, I was in the backseat of Curtis’ car Roxanne as we headed toward the clubhouse. It was surreal. I’d been riding shotgun for so long while Draco was gone. Grinning, I got comfortable and stared at the back of his dark head, enjoying the moment.
“Stop starin’ at me, freak,” Draco said, fidgeting.
“I’m not staring.”
“I can’ feel your eyes on the back of my head,” he said, not even bothering to turn and verify it.
“I’m just happy,” I replied. “The old crew, riding in Roxanne, headed to the club.”
“Missin’ a couple,” Curtis said, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Give it ten minutes and we won’t be.” If I knew Reb, she was already at the club waiting for us. Kara—well, she’d be there eventually. Christmas Eve at the clubhouse wasn’t something she could bail on.