“Holy shit…”
Their bathroom ishuge.
My family home was a mansion, but after the crash, Jordan and I were only allowed in specific areas. Our rooms, the music room, the dining room, and the den for studying. I remember other rooms and our parents' bathroom, just bits and pieces. Playing in a mountain of bubbles, baking cookies, and swimming in the pool for fun, but it had been years since I’d been allowed near any of them.
But if I had to think of it, this is what I’d be picturing from now on.
“Yeah, it’s pretty nice, isn’t it?” Julian asks, and “nice” might be underselling it a bit.
The far side of the room is mainly windows, three huge arching windows, like a huge bay window, and a tub big enough to swim in, nestled in the space below, no doubt giving a killer view. Even from here, I can see the trees.
To the right is a massive glass walk-in shower that could probably fit everyone in the dorm, with room for more.
Everything from the tiles to the walls is pristine and looks brand new. The dark marble counter matches the shower floor and the two steps leading to the tub.
It’s a work of art.
“No! Julez, I’ll stain the tub!” I struggle to get out of his arms, but he doesn’t let me budge, holding me tighter as he shakes his head.
“I can bleach it.”
I’m sure he can, but still, I hate that I’m making so much work for him.
“Unless you’d rather shower.” It’s impossible to miss his double meaning, and if I were more sane, I would probably decline, but a shower sounds like a win, not only for my guilty conscience but also perfect now that I’ve clearly become ruled by my desire.
I hesitate for a moment, unsure. Nobody’s ever seen me bare, and while I’m not so worried about being naked, I can’t say I’m not concerned he’ll find my scars unappealing.
I wouldn’t blame him, either. I mean, it’s my body, and I hate seeing them.
But if I can’t show Julian, I’ll never be able to show anyone because he’s the sweetest, most amazing, and caring guy I’ve ever met and I’ve never trusted anyone more.
I’d said it as a joke, or mostly as a joke. Would I have loved to shower with Wren? Duh, but did I ever expect her to agree to it right now?
Never.
Which is why I nearly trip over my own feet when she says the next four words.
“A shower sounds nice.”
Truer words have never been spoken. I stand frozen in shock as she pulls her now-ruined shirt up over her head before pushing her leggings down and off, kicking them aside.
Her bra and panties are both black and basic, but against her fair skin, they almost look exotic, even with her back to me.
Wren is always beautiful, but right now…
I stand captivated as all the blood in my head runs south, and I worry that maybe this wasn’t my best idea.
She takes a step toward the shower before she shakes her head and, with a loud sigh, turns to face me.
My eyes roam over her greedily, trying to commit every bit of her to memory, only to feel like I hit a brick wall as I reallyseeher.
Her stomach and upper thighs are covered in marks, some small and hardly visible, others… way too thick.
It takes my mind much longer than it should to piece everything together, but when I look up and find Wren’s gaze far away, it clicks.
Scars.
She’s covered in scars.
