Page 17 of Class Clown

The man who had probably been shot at, had explosions nearby, and had to use the earth for his toilet, was being called brave over a pickle splatter. I was going to burst if this kept going.

It did. They were both so happy that he was talking, that they seemed to not care that he was basically asking if they were teasing him or not. They nodded furiously, completely genuine in their praise, and took a few minutes to tell him about how bad paper cuts sting and that they could hardly handle stubbing their toes.

Nico’s dark eyes took them in, watching their overblown gestures and loud laughter without seeming to react in any way. He was a scientist simply watching a new species do its thing and casting no judgment on it whatsoever. That, in itself, was as interesting as watching the two young women get all worked up.

“Well,” I interrupted when I began to feel awkward for them and worried that we’d lose any shot at engaging Nico in the future, “let’s hope we don’t see too many pickle juice injuries this summer, huh?”

Cole stood and slapped my back. “Too true,” he stated. “See you ladies later.” He nodded to Kristy and Gina who had been called back to earth.

Nico stood and followed Cole, never having said another word, and I watched the moment that the girls realized what had happened over the course of those few short minutes.

“Did I tell a Marine that I hate getting paper cuts?” Kristy hissed, horrified, her fair skin flushing.

“Yes, and stubbing my toe is equal to losing a limb,” Gina groaned, letting her head fall forward, her hair covering her face.

“Don’t let us ever talk when he’s around again.” Kristy’s look was intense. “Like, ever, ever.”

I leaned forward and patted their hands. “You two won’t believe me, but I’ve seen worse.”

“You have?” they asked in unison.

“Yes. And half of the time, it was me putting on the show.”

I laughed, and they joined me as their embarrassment faded. We smiled at each other and resumed normal conversation as we finished our dinner.

Game on.

I huddled in my bunk the next morning as I listened to Cole and Nico getting ready for the day. My dreams had been filled with a romantic lake-side picnic after reading a few chapters in one of my novels before falling asleep. I laid in my bunk imagining a somewhat grumpy hero waiting for me in the pines and wildflowers, wrapping me in his arms to keep me warm during the cool evenings, feeding me s’mores around a fire, showing his soft heart to only me.

Footsteps moved toward the back door and my daydreaming was taken over by my aching bladder screeching in revolt as I listened to the door close. I rolled to my side, tucking my legs up against my stomach and cursing the fates. I’d waited too long to kick the guys out of the bathroom. Now, I had to make sure my muscles were holding tight before I dared to stand and tempt gravity to release everything. Ever since childhood I’d had to hustle directly to the bathroom when I first woke up, and up here was no different.

I kicked back my comforter and stuck out one leg, tossing my fluffy cloud of pink aside and leaped out of bed, zipping through the slit in the sheets and barreling into the bathroom . . . and straight into Nico’s back.

“Why are you here?” I squealed, gasping as my bladder twinged. “You have to get out.” I danced around in place, fully looking like a toddler with a pee-pee problem, while he looked at me in the mirror. “Seriously Nico, move.”

He turned around, his shoulder brushing my cheek in the tiny space, and in a supremely awkward maneuver we side-shuffled, somehow managing not to brush up against each other as he moved out and I moved in.

I let out a sigh of relief the second the door was closed tightly, and sent up a gratitude offering to the universe as I sat down. I made it. It was only at that moment that I realized Nico had been standing at the mirror withhalf of his face covered in shaving cream, holding a razor. His expression had been priceless.

“We need a schedule,” I called.

Nico didn’t reply, but I was sure he heard me. The cabin was too small for him not to, and I hadn’t heard him leave. Amusement had my mouth lifting. Poor man had not seen that coming.

I finished up, washed my hands, and exited the bathroom to find Nico leaning against his bunk bed, still lathered up and holding the razor. I laughed at his deadpan expression, which lightened a bit as our eyes met.

“You know, it’s dangerous to not empty your bladder when you wake. Bacteria can form, causing all sorts of issues. My health was at risk,” I stated. “A real S.O.S.”

He pointed behind me using the razor. “Do I have the all clear?”

I stepped out of the doorway and gestured for him to enter. When he’d taken his place back in front of the tiny sink and mirror, I stepped into the doorway, facing him and watching him in the mirror.

“It’s not going to work long term to have all three of us getting ready at the same time. Maybe we could write up some sort of bathroom schedule. From my observations, people have seen success with schedules. Heck, you were a Marine. You probably ate schedules for dessert.”

His eyes flicked to meet mine in the mirror. “I’m not schedule obsessed.” He went back to shaving, and I’m not going to pretend I didn’t enjoy watching. Men shaving will never not be attractive. “Is it actually possible to schedule around your bladder?” he asked.

“Easy. If you get up and out before my alarm goes off, we’re good. My bladder wakes up with my alarm. We both like to sleep in.”

He finished shaving and washed his face before replying. “You’re assuming I don’t.”

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