Page 65 of Hoax and Kisses
“Make yourselves at home. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
“Thanks, man.”
The instant the door clicks shut behind him, the air in the room grows thicker.
Zoey drops my hand and lets out a nervous laugh, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Well, this is awkward.”
“Trust me, I know.” I smooth my beard, glancing at the open bathroom behind her. Offuckingcourse there’s no door.
“Uh… you can go first. I’ll just…” I scan the space, searching for the farthest spot from the shower. “Stay in the chair over there. I promise I won’t look.”
She blushes a faint shade of pink. “O-okay, thanks. I’ll be quick.”
I sink into the armchair and swivel so I’m facing the wall, blocking the flashes of Zoey’s clothes falling softly to the floor from entering my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut, inhaling as much air as my lungs will hold.
When the tap opens, I release a shaky exhale and pull out my phone. Daphne answers on the second ring.
“Hi.” Her voice brings me instant peace.
“Are you having fun with Emily?”
“Yes. We spent all afternoon at the botanical garden studying the flowers, and tonight she’s going to show me her favorite documentary about safaris in Africa.”
“That’s great, Daph. Don’t go to bed too late, okay? I’m picking you up early tomorrow.”
“I won’t,” she mumbles. “Emily’s mom always says staying up after ten puts us in a bad mood.”
“Emily’s mom is right,” I smile into the phone. She’s been hosting Daphne every week since the two girls met in an autism development group. “Be good. If you need me, call me and I’ll be right over, okay?”
Daphne sighs on the other end. “Yes, Matt. But I’m fine. I stay at Emily’s every Saturday.”
“I know, I know. But if you need me, I’m here.”
“It’s time for dinner. I gotta go. Bye, Matt!”
She hangs up before I can tell her I love her.
“Did you say something?” Zoey calls from the shower, and all my newfound peace evaporates.
“N—” I clear my throat. “No. Just on the phone with my sister.” I grip the chair to keep myself from crossing the room and meeting her under the stream.
“I’ll be done in a minute. Can you—uh, can you look away?”
“Already am.”
I tune out the sounds of the bath towel rubbing along her body, the elastic of her underwear snapping against her skin, the lotion being spread on her long legs.
“All done!” she calls from the bathroom. “Your turn.”
I stand and spin around. “Perf—” The word dies in my throat. Black lingerie. Why is she wearing black lacy lingeriein front ofme? It barely covers her breasts, straining against the fabric like they’re begging to be freed.
“Matt?” She tilts her head.
“What-uh…” The noise comes out hoarsely. I clear my throat again. “Where’s your shirt?”
With a frown, she looks down. “Here?” She tugs on the very tight fabric of herlingerie. “It’s called a bustier. You don’t like it? I thought it would go well with my black pants.”
“That is not a shirt,” I say, shaking my head. “You can’t go out like that.”
