Page 85 of Arrogant Puck

I grab desperately for the shower curtain to cover myself, but it’s only the lining which happens to be clear, offering zero coverage. In my panic, I stumble backward and fall right into the tub with a loud crash, yanking the curtain down with me.

“Shit. Are you okay?” He steps forward immediately, offering me his hand.

“Get out!” I shriek from my humiliating position in the bathtub.

He rushes out and slams the door shut behind him.

“Towel, Slater. I need a towel,” I yell, remaining curled up in the tub like some kind of mortified pretzel.

The door opens again, but this time his eyes are squeezed shut. “I’m not looking. Here.” He drops a fluffy white towel into the tub without opening his eyes.

I untangle myself, looking at the curtain I have to fix.

“Are you covered?” he asks, giving me a moment.

“Yeah,” I say, wrapping the towel around myself.

He opens his eyes and offers me his hand again. This time I take it, letting him pull me up from the bathtub. His grip is warm and steady, and for a moment we’re standing closer than we should be in the steamy bathroom.

“You shouldn’t have barged in here,” I say, clutching the towel tighter. I can feel the heat in my cheeks.

“You called for me.”

“Yeah, but you’re supposed to knock or say something, not just walk in here!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, but there’s something in his voice that doesn’t sound entirely apologetic. “It’s not like it wasn’t ever going to happen.”

The casual way he says it, like seeing me naked was inevitable, makes my face burn with embarrassment.

“I’ll take care of this,” he says, pointing at the curtain.

I storm out of the bathroom and back to my room.

I get dressed quickly, my hands still shaking slightly from adrenaline. But as I pull on my clothes, I can’t shake the feeling that he’s going to walk in on me again. I glance around the room paranoid, suddenly very aware that this door doesn’t have a lock.

When I finally work up the courage to leave my room to have a talk with him, I find the living room empty. I walk to his bedroom door and knock firmly.

No answer.

I open it slowly. His room is empty too, but his bathroom door is open.

“Slater. Are you decent? We need to talk.”

A moment later, he walks out with his shirt off, and I have to force myself not to stare. God, he’s perfect. All lean muscle and defined abs, with a trail of dark hair disappearing into his jeans. There’s a small scar on his ribs that I hadn’t noticed before, and I wonder briefly what caused it.

“Boundaries,” I manage to say, keeping my voice steady. “We need to talk about boundaries.”

He stops walking when he sees me, and something shifts in his expression.

“If we’re going to live together, please, we need to set some basic ground rules,” I plead.

“Okay. Yeah.” He starts walking closer to me, and I wonder why he keeps advancing when I’m trying to have a serious conversation, and I know he can hear me just fine over there.

“Knock on the door if it’s closed,” I say, taking a small step back.

He nods, taking another step forward.

“If we call for each other across the house, please just say ‘yeah’ and not silently walk over.”

---