“Is that ok?”
“Sure...” I’m fucking baffled right now. She hasn’t flinched, hasn’t even stared or recoiled when her fingers skim the highest point of the scars through my eyebrow.
“Can you stand up long enough to sit in the shower?”
I nod slowly and watch her like a hawk. If I keep my eye on her, I’m bound to see what I see every other time someone gets a good look at my mug.
Blondie slides open the glass and pulls a high back shower chair forward, puts it on the floor right outside the stall then fucking reclines it a little before helping me sit.
She turns on the water and pulls the showerhead down, tests the temp then bites her lip as a blush stains her cheeks.
Oddly enough, I know for a fact that she’s embarrassed about something that has nothing to do with me, and that’s why I arch a brow as I lean back.
“I have the chair because I broke my leg falling up the stairs at my old apartment.”
My brows go higher. “Fallingupthe stairs?”
Blondie nods. “I’m a major klutz. But I kept the chair because I had to pay out of pocket for it and Fabio likes to come in the shower with me sometimes, but he won’t sit directly under the spray, so he just perches on the back of the chair and sings.”
This woman.
A smile tugs at my lips as the warm water hits my hair. “Fabio sings in the shower?”
“Yep.” She giggles. “Mostly oldies. He likes The Four Tops, The Temptations, Chubby Checker, and Elvis. He’ll sometimes randomly start rapping Tupac or Eminem though. Fabio is really good at that super-fast part of Rap God.”
Would it be ridiculous to ask this woman to marry me right now?
Probably, since I’ve been stalking her and don’t even know her name, but Jesus, the more she talks the more I want to listen, to learn everything there is to know about her.
“When we go for walkies, Fabio will start screaming stuff like Killswitch Engage or Poison the Well. One time he scared the shit out of an elderly couple with Norma Jean,” Blondie snorts. “He likes to get a rise out of people.”
My eyes slide closed as she massages her coconut shampoo into my hair. “I think Fabio is my spirit animal.”
“Mine too.” She sighs. “Is Cy short for something?”
Yeah, but I’m not going to tell her what. I like not talking about that shit right now and I’d definitely like to keep it that way.
“My name is Zak.”
I can hear her frown. “Jackal called you Cy, though, didn’t he?”
“Club name. We all have them.” I open my good eye with a smirk. “You didn’t really think Pork Chop was born a Pork Chop, did you?”
Another beautiful smile. “No, but Cy seems a little more like it could have been your name.”
“Just to them. I’m Zak to everyone else.” Well, I would be if therewasanyone else.
“Well, Zak, I’m Theo.”
“Theo.”I really fucking like that.“Short for something?”
“Theodora,” she groans with a rather impressive British accent. “Theodora Marie Covington. I sound like a damn lady in waiting for Queen Elizabeth the first.”
I chuckle as she rinses then actually conditions my hair. “It’s solid.”
“It’s ridiculous. My mother was determined to make my life hell in every way possible and giving me a name like that was just another way to do it.”
I want to ask her about a million questions right now. Ask her why she referred to her mom in past tense, ask her how she made her life hell, ask why she doesn’t like her name and if it’s because she was picked on for it or something. But I can tell by the way her lips are turned down slightly that now isn’t the time.
