Wrecked (3 page)

“You’re
wet,” he said. “Wait here.”

He
disappeared into another room while I awkwardly stood near his door, water
dripping on the carpet. Not knowing what else to do, I surveyed the
surroundings, noticing the tidy kitchen and an old brown couch positioned in
front of a small TV. It was surprisingly neat for a guy’s place. I was
expecting empty beer cans, posters of half-naked swimsuit models, and maybe a
bong or two—the typical college guy setup.

He
returned with a few pieces of neatly folded clothing and a towel. I expected
him to be in a new change of clothes but he was still in his drenched sweats.

T&M
offered me the clothes. “Sorry, but this is all I have. I don’t exactly keep
women’s clothes around.” He pointed past the couch. “Bathroom’s around the
corner.”

“What
about you?” I asked, eyeing his hair and clothes dripping on the carpet.

“I’ll be
fine for a bit longer, go on . . .”

“Are you
sure? You can go first. It’s your place after all.”

The edges
of his lips curved upward. It was the first time I’d seen him smile and the
look of him with wet hair and a boyish grin sent tingles down my back. “I
appreciate the concern but I’ll be fine. Go on, warm up. I’m gonna change out
of these clothes while you’re in there.”

“Okay.” I
gratefully took the items he gave me and went into the bathroom, closing the
door behind me. The inside matched the neat efficiency of the rest of the
apartment and smelled faintly of disinfectant. Setting the clothes on the
counter, I looked at myself in the mirror.

Wow, I
look like a mess.

There were
bits of algae and ice caught in my hair. I was suddenly feeling self-conscious
about my appearance, when I normally wouldn’t be. The inappropriateness of the
concern given the circumstances kind of pissed me off. I’d almost died and here
I was fretting about how I must’ve looked to T&M. What’s gotten into me?

Shaking my
head to clear my thoughts, I turned on the shower, and steam slowly filled the
room. I removed my boots and socks then peeled off my wet clothes that had been
clinging to me like a heavy blanket. I placed the items on top of the toilet
but when I tried to step into the shower, I accidentally knocked a wet sock
into the nearby trash bin. Grumbling in annoyance, I reached into the trash and
fished the polka-dotted sock out along with a wad of tissues clinging to it.
When I took a closer look, I noticed a used condom crumpled up among the
tissues.

Ew.

Scrunching
my face, I gingerly pinched off the undesirables and dropped them back into
their home in the waste bin. I spotted at least two more condoms poking out
from the pile of tissues. Apparently this guy either had a lot of sex or he
didn’t take out his trash often. The unusual neatness of his apartment
suggested it wasn’t the latter.

Figures,
a hot guy like him would be getting a lot of action.

I stepped
into the shower and let the heat of the water wash away the pinpricks beneath
my skin. T&M—or Tim as I decided to refer to him for simplicity—clearly
lived a spartan lifestyle. One bottle of shampoo and one bottle of body wash
stood next to each other in the shower cubby. They almost looked lonely. I
considered using the loofah that hung over the showerhead, but when I imagined
him lathering up the creases of his abs and his junk in the front with it, I
decided against it.

Just
warm up and dry off Lorrie, no distractions. Just as if it’s a quick rinse
before sex . . .

I sighed.
What a great return to campus. It was just supposed to be uneventful semester;
one that was going to help me return to a normal life. One without people
dying. But before it even began, I almost died myself. Now I was showering in
some strange guy’s apartment who probably thought I was depressed and suicidal.

Unfortunately,
he wasn’t too far from the truth. Being depressed was a shitty place to be and
telling others about it only fed the condition, making it worse. It was like
rolling an impossibly large stone up a hill and if you asked for help, the
extra hands got in the way more than they helped, pushing the stone in all
sorts of directions until you realize that you’d have been better off pushing
it alone. But you know you can’t do it by yourself. The only solution then was
to not roll it at all. Just walk away, pretend it wasn’t there, that there was
no point to moving it to the top of the hill in the first place. And that left
you feeling numb—which wasn’t great but at least it wasn’t bad. Feeling numb
was at least better than feeling depressed.

I turned
the water off, stepped out of the shower, and dried myself with the towel he’d
given me. I took a closer look at the clothes: there was a large black US Air
Force t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I put them on and laughed when I examined
myself in the mirror—the clothes were huge, making me look comically small in
them. I had to hold the jeans up with my hand otherwise they’d fall down. At
least the bagginess of the shirt would help hide the fact that I was no longer
wearing a bra.

After
ensuring I looked presentable—at least as presentable as possible in baggy
clothes and without makeup—I gathered my wet clothes in my arms and opened the
bathroom door, preparing to thank Tim for his hospitality. When I stepped into
the living room, my jaw dropped at the sight of him naked.

“Oh, I’m
sorry!” I quickly turned away but not before the sight of him was seared into
my memory. Images of carved muscles and exotic tattoos danced across my mind.

“Wow, that
was quick. I thought you’d be in there longer.” I heard him laugh and the
subsequent thud of his drenched sweats being thrown into a corner hamper. “You
can turn around. I’m not naked, ya know. Unless you consider being shirtless as
naked.”

I turned
around and noticed he had a white towel around his waist. His torso was still
fully bare though. Tattoos ran along the side of his chest and extended down
his arm. They were mostly a mix of tribal designs but one tattoo stood out for
me. A picture of a large hammer was boldly etched on his upper arm. An
unwelcome desire flittered in my stomach as I imagined running my fingertips
over the inked lines.

I wasn’t
opposed to seeing him shirtless at all. Not. At. All.

I forced
myself to make eye contact with him, but was surprised to find him not doing
the same. His eyes were wide, and they were roaming down and up my freshly
showered body.

When his
eyes finally met mine, his lips curved wickedly. “You clean up well.”

My cheeks
flushed. “Thanks,” I replied, slightly uncomfortable. “I feel a lot better
without all that lake gunk on me. I really appreciate the clothes, although
they might be a little big for me.” I gestured to the jeans that were
threatening to fall down my hips.

He looked
me over again, dark eyes subtly lingering at certain parts: thighs, chest,
lips. “No, you look good—real good.” His hand gestured to the couch. “Have a
seat. I’ll get you some warm tea and a belt. I can get you back to your place
after I wash up.”

He grabbed
my wet clothes from me and set them down on the kitchen counter while I took a
seat on his couch. I thought it’d be a relief to sit down and relax but I found
myself tense and restless, wondering who this guy was and what I’d gotten
myself into by agreeing to come to his place.

He went
into the kitchen and brought me a cup of tea. It smelled fragrant and spicy and
the hot mug felt good in my hands, calming my nerves temporarily. I sipped
slowly, enjoying the fluid warming up my chest as he went into his bedroom to
search for a belt. Moments later, he returned.

“Thank you
so much,” I said as he handed me the belt and sat down on the edge of the
coffee table inches away from me.

He, in his
shirtless glory, carefully watched me bring the cup of tea to my lips. I
brought the edge to my mouth but didn’t drink, too distracted by the desire to
touch my lips against the soft skin of those hard pecs right in front of me. I
flicked my gaze to his to avoid staring at his chest. The concerned way he
studied me with those dark irises matching the color of his damp hair was
making me squirm in my seat. Not to mention the peripheral view of that towel
around his waist was approaching scandalous. He didn’t cross his legs like I
would if I were wearing a skirt and I fought the urge to snag a glance down at
that distinctly male area. But it was hard to resist. Was this what it was like
to be on the other end of someone trying to cop a peek up your skirt?

“How’s the
tea?”

His voice
interrupted my thoughts and I hurriedly swallowed a big gulp that burned my
throat going down. “Very good, thanks,” I choked. “I feel bad you had to go to
so much trouble to make it though. Sorry for being such a burden.”

“. . .
Polite too.” He grinned. “Don’t worry about it. It was no trouble at all.” His
demeanor was almost the opposite of what it had been at the lake—it was relaxed
and warm now. But then again so was mine. The feeling of almost dying must be
wearing off for both of us.

“Are you
going to have some yourself?” I asked, uncomfortable with how he was just
sitting there. Right there. Half naked in front of me with a ‘V’ shaped muscle
around his pelvis tempting my eyes to look down to where the slanted lines met.
Wasn’t he going to take his shower?

“Probably
in a bit.”

Seeing him
in no hurry to leave, I wracked my brain for a conversation topic. “So . . .” I
looked down at the shirt I was wearing and pinched the lettering to try to end
the silence. “Are you in the Air Force?”

He paused
for a second longer than I was expecting. “No, I’m just a student. Senior,
actually. You go to school here too?”

I nodded.
“Yeah, sophomore.”

“Cool. So
why did you come to campus so early?”

“I thought
it’d be good to have some time by myself to prepare for the semester. You know,
mentally prepare and all that.”

He nodded.
“Alone time, yeah. Helps to work things out on your own sometimes. People can
be stressful, especially at this school where people like to gossip. I swear
it’s like every student’s minor here.”

I wondered
if his comment was specifically directed toward me and my circumstances. Did he
know who I was and my reputation? “Yeah, I’m not too interested in rumors.
They’re often wrong anyway.” I shifted my legs and happened to briefly brush
against his. I felt my nipples tighten from the unintentional intimate contact.

His eyes
narrowed and he glanced at the offending leg. He looked at me for a while,
apparently deep in thought. When his eyes glanced down at my chest, I saw an
intense flicker in those dark irises—or was it a spark? “Haven’t met anyone
here who doesn’t like gossip,” he said smoothly. “You do know you’re at
Arrowhart right? Gossip is big here. It’s only normal that you’d be
interested.”

“Yeah, I
know,” I replied.
And boy did I know
. “But maybe I’m not normal.”

The smile
he gave had an edge to it that made me uncomfortable and aroused at the same
time. “I’d say so as well. Seeing imaginary cats and falling into frozen lakes
isn’t exactly normal,” he teased, before his voice lowered intimately. “But
then again, normal’s boring.”

A heated
ache moved through me. Was it my imagination or was he flirting with me? It
didn’t seem like he realized who I was. I noticed again how unusually neat the
place was. Did he have a girlfriend that cleaned for him? Or his mom? “So do
you live here by yourself?” My voice came out huskier than I intended and I
cleared my throat, hoping he didn’t notice.

He smiled.
“Yeah, I get plenty of alone time here.”

I found
that difficult to believe given his devilish good-looks. It would be easier for
me to believe if he’d said he had a ticket system for girls lining up outside
his apartment door. Maybe even a BYOC policy—Bring Your Own Condom. That could
explain the contents of his bathroom trash.

I forced
another gulp down my throat, uncomfortable with how being so near him made me
restless. “What do you like to do in your alone time?”

“In my
alone time?” He cocked a brow and looked at me with curiosity.

I glanced
at his sculpted chest because I couldn’t help myself. “Yeah, like when no one’s
around, just in private.” I was thinking about how I liked to mope and draw in
my alone time and was hoping to find common ground between us. He probably
didn’t sit on icy bridges in his alone time but maybe he did something
relatable so I could convince him I wasn’t just some depressed girl trying to
kill herself.

A glint in
his eye, his grin widened. “What do I like to do in my alone time?” he
repeated, suggestively. “Oh, just the usual stuff guys do when they’re by
themselves. You know, normal stuff.”

Oh no.
Was
I
flirting with him? I’d
unintentionally said something that could’ve been interpreted as a reference to
his masturbation routine.
God, how awkward
. This was not my lucky day. I
glanced at his towel and noticed a towering bulge that hadn’t been there
before. My face flushed. Shit, did I do that?