Nuri: You and I. GIRL’S NIGHT!
PRUDENCE
“Um, Nate?” I ask, puzzled.
I hear his footsteps before he stops right behind me.
“Something wrong?”
“I—uh… I swear I’m really looking, but I don’t get how that shower is working.”
He chuckles, but doesn’t say anything as he side steps me to fiddle with thebuttons. Why are there buttons? My knowledge of showers stops with faucets.
“Yeah, it’s a control panel. This button here controls the pressure. This one is for the temperature, and those on the side are for the different shower heads and jets.”
I look up to study the large rainfall shower head. On the sides are a few massage shower jets. He catches my confused face and shakes his head with a small smile.
“Just press on this one to get the water warmed up while you get ready. Stay on the side so you don’t get drenched, alright?”
“Okay…”
He steps away and I get inside the shower to press on the button. Wait, which one was it? That one?
I’m on the side and he isn’t fully out of the shower when I press it, too embarrassed to ask him to confirm.
I yelp in surprise when the side jets turn on with a high pressure and in my panic, I try to press on the button again. But it might not be the same one as the water starts to pour from above, and the sides are not stopping.
“Aaaah, damn, what have I done? Where is—AH Fuuuuu—”
The jets on the side stop when I press another button but the shower head in front of my face turns on, and DAMN that water is cold.
Nate’s chest suddenly plasters to my back and his hands appear in front of me to tap a couple of buttons before the water stops altogether.
I’m frozen—quite literally—in place, my arms at an odd angle in front of me, mouth gaping in shock. Nate—that ass—laughs.
“If you wanted to take your shower with me, you only had to ask, you know?” he asks from behind me and the rumble of his chest against my back says everything about the way he’s not holding his amusement.
“Who the hell uses buttons for a shower?”
“People who sometimes lend this bathroom to disabled patients who can’t use their hands to grasp and turn handles,” he answers matter-of-factly.
I groan and slap both my hands on my face. God, I’m stupid. Of course a physiotherapist would have basic amenities that are disabled friendly.
“I’m sorry, that was a dumb thing to say.”
One of his hands moves to squeeze my shoulder gently.
“Don’t worry about it, there’s nothing to apologize for. Next time you can use my bathroom, it has regular faucets.”
“Next time?” I ask, turning my face slightly and catching his amused face.
“I mean, if you ever find yourself drunk again, or if Jack and Ikram are… Well, actually I’ve learned this morning that they did not actually have sex. So you might be safe from any scarring vision for the time being.”
Next time.I mean, with our weird and embarrassing exchanges yesterday and this morning, I’m guessing it might happen at some point. I still can’t believe drunk me betrayed sober-me like this. I should be glad she didn’t mention the dirty thoughts and dreams I had since I spent three hours on his lap last weekend, and after our little yoga episode…
The faint memory of him standing so close to me, his hips just between my knees, in his kitchen is not helping this dirty brain of mine either. And how I wanted him to kiss me? Drunk me is not allowed to be out in his presence ever again.
“Those eyes of yours…” he says, barely over a whisper, and I realize my back is still plastered to his front and I’m still staring at his face while his hand have slid down my arm to reach my hand.
