“You sacrificed yourself for a cause. That’s more than most of us can say,” I say to the romper—never to be worn again. I’m giving up on the clothes but I can at least salvage my bag.
* * *
Roe findsme washing my feet in the sink. Naked. As I do. I went Under as soon as I heard the door but came back Up when I saw it was him. His gaze immediately finds me, snagging on my naked form.
I honestly hadn’t expected him to show up. I had planned on going back Under to meet him at the theater and go from there. I’m used to dealing with this solo.
“You came?” I ask.
“I was around,” he says coolly.
“Anything to see me naked again.” My hair falls loose to hide my smile.
“What happened?”
“Oh, I just decided to take a bath in a public sink like a transient. You know how I do.”
“Can you please cover up?” He frowns. Not-amused eyebrows. He shoves a tote bag toward me.
“Hey, nobody looks good in fluorescent lighting.” I cross an arm over my chest and dig through the bag with the other hand.
“No, I—”
“Where did you get these?” Inside the bag are a shirt, jeans, and a pair of flip-flops all in my size.
“Rachel.”
“Rachel for the win once again. I need to buy that girl a cake.” Slipping the T-shirt over my head, I hop off the sink and wiggle into the jeans and flip-flops. “I go commando. Does she want these back?”
“No.” He swallows. “She said you could keep them.”
“Tell her thanks.”
When I do this alone, I’m stuck walking naked through LA trying to find clothes, worrying about what diseases can be absorbed through feet. This is a perk I hadn’t considered. Maybe working with a partner isn’t the worst thing to ever happen.
“I’m decent,” I say because he’s trying hard to count the floor tiles.
This sudden modesty for my nudity comes from outta nowhere but whatever.
“Do you live around here? Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m not showing you where I live.”
“Wow. Okay. Because I’m a serial killer?”
“Sorry. But you don’t come solo. You bring the paparazzi. Any anonymity I remotely have is gone.”
“Fine.”
I slip the flip-flops onto my freshly cleaned feet and fill him in on Asian Hipster and the death of my new outfit, which he seems far less interested in.
“I can’t believe it,” he says.
“I know! I just bought it. And sure, it was on sale, but it was really nice.”
He blinks at me.
I blink at him.
