Page 25 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
All those soft and curious thoughts about my fake sister disappear like sand down the drain.
I don’t know what Piper’s up to, and between the breeze and the cold water clinging to my body, I’m shivering too much to think about it. I wrap my wetsuit around my waist, and it covers enough—barely. I’ll track water and sand inside wearing it like this. And, as Piper pointed out, I might not have housekeepers anymore.
A door on the side of the house leads to the laundry room. There will be towels there. I glance toward the sliding glass door to confirm the curtain is closed. Even if Piper is in the kitchen, she won’t see me…probably. It’s only a couple meters to the side door. I’d rather take the chance she’ll get a glimpse of my ass than get lectured for making a mess, or worse, having to clean up myself. So, I drop the wetsuit and make a mad dash for the door.
The second I step inside, I’m hit with a blast of Arctic air. Piper must have helped herself to the air con as well as the gym, the towels, and my trackies. It's colder in here than it was outside and I’m instantly covered in goosebumps. Luckily, I’ve got the utter terror of being caught naked to keep me warm. Or at least, to keep me from freezing.
I dart into the laundry area—it's through an archway and has no door—and yank open the dryer. The door provides some cover for me, but the dryer is empty. I open the cabinets within my reach, keeping my nether regions hidden behind the dryer door. No towels there either. I venture away from the dryer and fling open the other cabinets, even the ones too small to hold anything but facewashers.
If there were ever towels in this room—and I honestly don’t know if there were—they’re gone now. Disappeared to wherever the beach towels and my trackies have gone.
Over the sound of my pulse, I notice a whirring and shaking. I peek through the clear door of the washing machine, spinningmadly. Whatever is in there looks very similar to the striped towels from the outside shower, along with the gray towels from the downstairs bathroom.
It’s no mystery who put them in the washing machine since there are only two of us here, and I didn’t do it. I don’t even understand how to work the washing machine. The only real question that remains iswhy. Why is Piper suddenly doing the laundry?Allthe laundry.
Before I can piece together that puzzle, there’s a more pressing one to solve. How do I get out of here and back to my bedroom unseen? The laundry room is the only room on this side of the house and the hallway leads directly to the family room and kitchen area, which I’ll have to go through to get upstairs. If Piper is downstairs, she’ll see me.
I'm trapped.
At least until the towels finish washing and drying. And I have no idea how long that could be. Or how to start the dryer if I were to stay until the washer finishes.
I’ll have to take my chances with streaking.
Not keen to be seen naked by my fake sister, I grab a bottle of washing detergent—making a mental note to join one of those big box warehouses so I can purchase things in larger sizes—and hold it below my waist. It works, but it’s very, very awkward.
I peek my head into the hallway and yell, "Piper!"
No reply.
"Piper Quinn!" I yell again at the top of my lungs.
I creep down the hallway toward the stairs, my back against the wall where she’s less likely to see me. When I reach the end, I yell her name again, as loud as I can.
“PI-PER!”
This time she hears and answers. “What?”
“Can you get me a towel from the gym?Someone’sput all the others in the wash.” I hold the washing detergent tighter and press my butt against the wall.
“Oh! Sorry! I thought I’d tidy things while you were gone. Give me just a sec!” she calls back in a voice sweet enough to arouse my suspicions that she was doing more than a little tidying.
A vent above my head blasts cold air that sends a shiver through my entire body.
I peek around the corner and watch Piper pad barefoot—in no hurry at all—down the opposite hall. I could dash for the stairs, but I’d rather not risk her seeing me in my current state.
A lifetime later she yells from the kitchen, just out of view, “I’ve got one. Do you need me to bring it to you?”
“NO! Just toss as it close as possible, then close your eyes.”
She won’t video this, will she?
“Okay,” she sings and seconds later, I hear the towel land softly somewhere out of my sight.
“Close your eyes!” I order before stepping into the open and yanking the towel off the floor, keeping my gaze on Piper the entire time.
Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut, but I don't trust her.
Especially since, with a stack of large beach towels she could have chosen, she’s brought me a flimsy towel not much bigger than a hand towel. Something is better than nothing, but her flicker of a grin makes me wonder if she’s purposely trying to make me uncomfortable.
