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Fuck knows.
When I’m done, I look back at the phone.
It hasn’t lit up again.
I’ve been checking.
Finishing the last bit of my bottle of wine, I strip off my clothes and contemplate my life choices as I turn on the shower.
Because, hello, alcohol.
And hello, two marriages, both of which didn’t work out.
Fuck, I’m not even thirty.
Is this the way I saw my life going?No.
Not at all.
So how did it end up this way?
The water is boiling when I step under the stream. I prefer it like that. My face is tipped up toward the water when I hear him.
I think I’m dreaming.
I mean, I have to be, right?
This can’t be happening.
Maybe I answered my phone without knowing.
No, I’m not that drunk.
I’m somewhere in between tipsy and drunk.
“Are you ignoring me?” His voice is close.
When I turn around, Joey is on the other side of the shower door, looking so fucking good, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing a few tattoos scattered on his arms. I have to stop myself from gaping at the sight of him.
“I’m pretending you aren’t there,” I tell him.
He casually leans against the wall directly across from the shower and stares at me. I look away and continue to wash.
“You avoided my text.”
“You asked to have me for dessert.”
“And? If I remember correctly, you like it when I’m between your legs.”
Oh my God.
“You’re blushing.”
“It’s the hot water,” I reply, glancing back at him. “Stop looking at my ass.”
He lifts his eyes to mine and smirks. “But it’smyass. Shouldn’t I be allowed to look at what’s mine?”
I scoff at his words. “Yours?” I question and turn the water off. He grabs a towel and holds it out for me when I push the door open. “I think you are mistaken. Last time I checked, my ass is mine.”
