Page 19 of Overtime
“Why the hell are you stealing my phone?”
“I just need to do a thing and then I’ll give it back to you. Just let me go and I’ll give it back by the time you’re out of the shower,” she says it like it’s a normal reasonable request all the while still fighting me and trying to open the door. The worst part is all her struggling in this close of proximity is making her body graze against mine over and over again and considering where I’d been mentally and physically when I was interrupted by her, this isnothelping.
“What the fuck are you doing sneaking in here while I shower, going through my shit?”
She whips around then, an accusation on her face.
“What the fuck are you doing stealing my conditioner and using it to jack off? That stuff is expensive you know. I got it in Switzerland. It wasn’t cheap!”
What I was doing was trying to take the edge off because she drives me insane, and if I have to spend the whole night around her, I needed whatever sanity I could buy. The conditioner was just conveniently located. Not that I’m about to tell her that.
“No. I don’t think so. Give me the phone, Joss.”
“I told you. I have one thing I need to do and then you can have it back.”
“What do you need to do?”
“Delete a text message.”
I’m surprised when she’s so forthcoming but also confused.
“What?”
“I accidentally sent a text meant for Violet to you, and I need to delete it. It’s embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?”
“Yes. So will you please just let me delete it?” She’s messing with the lock screen on the phone now, and again, I can’t stop her because I’ve got one hand on the door and the other on a towel covering my raging hard-on.
“How the hell is it more embarrassing than this?” I ask, so annoyed I could yell.
She looks up and glares at me.
“Well if you’d just stayed in the shower and finished yourself off instead of having to investigate noises, this wouldn’t be happening. You can go back in there and do that right after you give me your password.”
“I’m not giving you my password.”
“Fine. You can stand there all dripping wet on Violet’s floor while I figure it out myself. We’ll be late to her event, but I’ll just explain that you were having a marathon self-care session. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“Jesus Christ, Joss. Put the fucking phone down and get out!”
She makes a gasping noise and stands up straighter. “Don’t you swear at me! I’m the one mad at you right now!”
“You’re mad at me?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes! Give me the stupid password. Let me delete the text, and I’ll leave you alone.”
“No.” I can’t give her the password. Because if I do, she’ll figure out the meaning and then she’ll have even more ammunition. Not to mention there are other things she could find on my phone—I don’t need her seeing any of it.
Her eyes go dark then, and she whips around grabbing onto the door handle and pulling hard, shoving back with her ass as she does it. It knocks me off-kilter and she nearly gets the door open. Except I’m bigger and faster than her. I grab her and turn her around, pressing her up against the door until she’s pinned. I lose the towel in the process, and it drops in between us, catching where our bodies are too close to let it fall to the floor, and she lets out a little gasp.
She looks up at the ceiling and then her eyes close, and she bites her lower lip like I’ve somehow scandalized her.
“Put the phone on the counter.”
She complies finally but refuses to open her eyes. I grab the ends of the towel, still using my knee and body weight to pin her and wrap it around my waist before I lose it entirely.
“I’ll delete the text—myself—without looking at it if you tell me what it was about.” I offer a white flag, hoping she’ll concede and we can break this stalemate. Because fighting with her like this is only going to lead to the same place fighting in the shed did.
