This is practical. This means nothing.
It feels like walking directly into temptation wearing nothing but pajamas and the world's flimsiest excuse.
But what am I supposed to do? Drive back to the lake house atnearly 11pm just to wash my hair? Call a plumber at this hour for what's probably just a water heater issue?
No.
I'm asking to use his shower. That's it.
Completely normal. Just two people who used to know each other extremely well navigating a temporary housing situation.
Right.
I finally find the courage around 10:50pm.
I climb the short path to Nate's cabin, the night air cool against my bare legs, gravel crunching under my feet.
The sky is dark now, scattered with stars, the trees silhouetted black against the deep blue.
His cabin glows with warm light from inside.
It's just a shower.
I pause at the door, the excuse I've been rehearsing running through my head on repeat: the hot water in my bathroom isn't working, I just need a shower, this is practical, this means nothing.
Except it doesn't feel like nothing.
I knock once. Twice.
No answer.
The cabin sits quiet, warm light glowing from inside, but no movement visible.
I know he's home. I saw his car earlier.
And then I hear it.
Water running.
He's in the shower.
Of course he is.
Perfect timing, Nora. Absolutely stellar.
I should leave and come back in twenty minutes. This is weird enough without interrupting his shower.
But I'm standing here with soap drying in my hair, wearing pajamas and no bra, having spent twenty minutes convincing myself to do this, and if I leave now I'll never find the courage to come back.
So I do something possibly insane.
I knock again, louder this time.
"Nate?" I call out. "Nate, are you in there?"
The water shuts off.
There's a pause.
