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She shrugged her shoulders and went to the toilet and threw what looked like half a roll of paper towels in.
“You’re not supposed to throw paper towels in the toilet,” I pointed out. “That’s how you clog it up.”
“It’s not my toilet,” she said. “It’s someone else’s toilet.”
“And that’s all that matters?” I asked, getting frustrated now with the goddamn paper towels. When it gave me another small piece, I yanked it hard and ended up unrolling more than my fair share. “This was a fuck of a lot easier when they let me get my own goddamn towels,” I grumbled.
Her brows rose. “I’m fairly sure that if you acquired a semblance of patience, you might find that it gives you plenty.”
“Whatever,” I muttered. “And let’s go back to the paper towels in the toilet. Do you want other people to have that same attitude when you bring them over to your house?”
“I don’t have paper towels in my bathroom,” she pointed out. “I have hand towels.”
I sighed, not amused by her newfound attitude.
Nor was I amused by the fact that I found the attitude cute.
Cute!
If that had been anyone else doing that, it’d have pissed me off.
Yet it was her, and I was finding it goddamn cute.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
More so, what the fuck was I thinking about when I came in here and did what I did? I seriously needed to learn fucking control, that was for sure.
Then I shook my head and thought about the fact that I’d been wanting her for a while now if I was admitting it. She pissed me off, but I still found her attractive as fuck. I didn’t think that I’d ever get over the fact that I hated to love her. That I still wanted to fill her sweet, smart mouth with my cock just so she wouldn’t have the time or ability to run said smart mouth.
“What’s with that look on your face?” she asked curiously.
I turned to watch her finish getting dressed and wash her hands.
“I was thinking about the fact that you were masturbating in a public bathroom while I was waiting for you to come back outside,” I lied. “Is that normal for you?”
She flipped me off and waved her hand in front of the paper towel dispenser, getting more than enough to dry her hands.
The goddamn piece of shit.
“What’s normal for me is riding in a car. What’s not normal is being pressed up to your hard, hot body, and feeling the vibration of your motorcycle between my legs,” she explained.
I grinned unrepentantly. “You liked it, though, didn’t you?”
She smiled back at me. “What I liked and didn’t like isn’t something that you need to know.”
I reached for the door handle, but her hand slapped mine away from it.
When I looked at her in surprise, she held up the paper towel. “You should really open the door with your paper towel. You never know who walked out of this bathroom after taking a shit and didn’t wash their hands.”
That made a sick sort of sense.
“Shit,” I shook my head. “That’s fuckin’ gross.”
Her smile was on the verge of being creepy. “Then you should also not think about the fact that menus, door handles into the restaurants themselves, or even a grocery cart are covered in bacteria.”
She yanked open the door seconds later, revealing not one, not two, but three women waiting.
She instantly flushed from hair to toes, and I grinned.
“Just an FYI, you should probably never flush paper towels down the toilet or you’ll be required to call a plumber in to clean up after you,” I told them all, letting them think what they would. “Also, probably shouldn’t do sanitary pads or tampons, either.”
A few of the women nodded in understanding. The last one, an older lady that was clearly past the point of needing sanitary products, stared at us suspiciously.
“I’m kind of disappointed that y’all don’t have a better story,” she said as she pushed past both of us into the bathroom, and then slammed the door solidly closed.
I grabbed hold of Jubilee’s wrist, then tucked her hand into mine, pulling her along in my wake.
“Did you want something to eat or drink?” she asked hopefully.
“Eating and drinking isn’t really conducive with riding a bike,” I pointed out. “If you want something, it needs to be eaten now and not on the bike. You need to be able to hold on in case of an emergency, and having a Snickers bar in your hand won’t allow you to do that.”
She tossed me a glare over her shoulder, then went straight to where the Snickers were and picked up three.
I grabbed a water and a protein bar and met her up at the counter.
“Is that all?” the bored looking attendant asked.
I looked down at Jubilee, who was busy worrying her lip as she stared at the lottery tickets.
