Page 47 of Eyes in the Shadows

Last night, I sat on the floor of that cavernous shower with, like, seven shower heads spraying me, and hugged my knees and waited for the tears. I gave up when my ass fell asleep, and finished my shower. I used the strange, scentless body wash on the shelf, wrapped myself in a huge fluffy towel, then I scoped out the bathroom for extras of things like toothbrushes and floss, and found completely bare drawers.

I put my own oversized tee-shirt and shorts on afterwards, cringing at the way the pits were still soggy from my workout. But whether or not I can fit into one of his shirts is not really a question I need answered. There isn’t much point in trying to have one of those cute,look how big his shirt is on my tiny bodymoments, and I came to terms with that a long time ago.

I sat in the middle of the bed that felt bigger than a king—not that I’d really know, my futon is a queen at best—staring at that closed door, debating turning that lock. In the end I was too tired to put up a fight or deal with the ominous consequences.

And since I’m not ready to deal with the consequences of him waking and finding me all over him like this, either… Gingerly, I lift my hand and pull away. He barely shifts in response, so I roll onto my back and stare at the crisp, white ceiling. I scratch my knee, then do a double take and make a face. Great. Another flare up.

I scooch to the edge of the bed slowly, trying not to jostle him on the memory foam, and creep to the bathroom. I’m so used to the floor creaking under every move I make in my apartment, I’m surprised with how quiet I can actually be.

Since the night before was such an emotional blur, I didn’t really register the splendor of the bathroom. Walking in, I gape.

I think I actually have found a room roughly the size of my apartment.

The shower stands next to a large, jetted tub, spanning the whole far side of the room. Apparently, the toilet gets its own little room within the bathroom because, why not? But the other door, when opened, has a stacked washer-dryer unit next to a rack with a robe on a hanger and a fully-loaded linen closet. I should have looked in here the night before, because there are baskets with all kinds of helpful toiletries. Well, that’s a pleasant surprise.

First, I brush my teeth for a long time at the double vanity, staring blankly into the mirror with built-in back lighting. Then, I go to the duffel I’d left in here in the corner and retrieve my underwear, bra, socks and the towel I apparently stole from the gym. That joins the clothes I’m wearing in the washer. Then, because it feels like a wastefully small load, I throw in the towel I used last night. And the other one on the rack.

My shower last night had such an unsatisfying conclusion—having to put dirty clothes back on—that I decide to take another. When I step in, the steam that pours out gives me a flashback of the dark hole of a gun barrel poking through the swirling white. But as the dread starts to curl around my guts, I manage to keep it at bay by physically shaking myself out of it.

He’s dead. I saw him die.

I grab the robe from the closet and am relieved when it cinches closed. Barely, but it’s better than nothing—which is what I’ll have for the next hour and a half until my only clothes are clean and dry. And that’s a long time to try to hide from Mac in a place where there’s nowhere to sit, unless you count the toilet.

I brace myself and open the door. He’s on his back, scrolling through his phone with a scowl, the covers slung low over his hips, giving me a truly spectacular view of his chest and abs and biceps…God, there’s not a single inch of him that isn’t tanned, toned and perfect. He looks over when the door opens and the scowl melts away.

“Mornin’, darlin’.”

His voice is scratchy, rubbing against my skin like sandpaper. I reach down to itch my knee and he tracks the movement. “Morning,” I reply softly.

“You finished in the bathroom?”

I nod and quickly move to the other side of the room to stay out of his way. Thankfully—unfortunately?—he’s not naked, but boxers don’t hide much. I make myself look away, focusing down on the bedside table that was next to where I was laying. Our awkward morning dance doesn’t last long as he closes the door.

The urge to pick up my phone is strong, especially in my boredom. And now that I’ve confined myself to the bedroom for the next 85 minutes until the dryer cycle is done, I’m especially at a loss. I cross the room, curious about the view I couldn’t see last night, as I hear the shower turn on.

The grounds—yeah, a yard this big has to be called grounds—are spectacular. There’s a dusting of frost on what must be acres and acres of grass, making it look like sparkling waves of blue-green. We’re facing the back of the house, because I can see a covered pool below us and a large building to the left of it that must be a pool house. There’s some bird activity, but not much other movement thanempty tree branches swaying in the wind, and no other wildlife that I can see. I guess deer can’t jump a fence this high.

Mac emerges some time later, slipping a watch over his hand and securing it. My mouth goes dry. Not only is watching a man putting on a watch the hottest fucking thing for some reason, he’s also in only a towel. I turn firmly back around.

“Oh, we’re still doing that, huh?” his voice is thick with amusement.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending you don’t want to look.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I choose silence. I can’t hear him as he moves across the thick carpet, but I do hear the closet door open. And I can hear his voice clearly as he says, “I have a meeting this morning with the team, then I’ll probably have to go do some work for a bit. Feel free to explore.”

“Okay.”

“After your clothes are done.”

I roll my eyes. Duh. Like I’d walk around an unfamiliar house in a robe that barely fits me with nothing underneath. “Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you by accidentally flashing your roommates.”

“That’s good, because I’d have to cut out their eyes.”

I swallow. I can’t tell if that’s a joke.

A memory surfaces;I want theojos. I shiver.

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