“This is why you took the other room,” I muttered under my breath.
“You’ll never prove it in court,” Ireland whispered back, looking up at me with a smirk.
Her face was bare, her hair wild from what I hoped was a good night’s sleep. Her eyes widened just a fraction as she looked away and ran her hand through her hair.
It didn’t help, which was good, because she didn’t need it.
Delly stomped through her bedroom and into her bathroom, muttering to herself, and then Ireland disappeared too. There was the slightest hesitation when she opened her bedroom door, and I imagined her finding the note. Suddenly self-conscious, I walked into my bedroom and left the door cracked, listening as Ireland came back out a couple minutes later and went into the kitchen.
I imagined her finding the cappuccino, hoping it made her smile. Made her day ahead a little better.
Would she write me a note back if I was in there? Did watched Irelands write?
Maybe not.
I eased my door shut, then sat on my bed.
When I came in here yesterday, I could’ve sworn I smelled her lavender scent. Could it have stuck to the note like that?
I imagined her here, in this room with me, but cut it off with a shake of my head. There were a lot of ways to cross lines, and inappropriate thoughts about the beautiful woman living two thin doors from me was one of them.
The sound of her door to the bathroom opening drew my attention. A few seconds later, there was a clatter, followed by another. Then the showerhead of doom turned on and back off. Then it repeated.
A knock sounded on my own door to the bathroom, and I adjusted myself quickly, cursing my body for not getting the memo that we weren’t getting worked up over her.
Opening the door, I stilled, frowning at the empty bathroom.
Walking a couple feet inside, that frown morphed intoan excited smile that reflected at me in the mirror when I saw the new sticky note stuck there.
Rushing forward, I ripped it off and read it with eager eyes.
How are stars like dentures? Both come out at night
I think I fixed the shower pressure. Let me know if I overcorrected it after your next shower?
P.S.The cake and cappuccino were perfect. Thank you.
P. P. S. When’s your birthday?
I stared at the note, my smile so persistent that my face ached.
Turning, I went back to my room and put the note on my bedside table, then followed her direction and took my morning shower.
It was perfect.
My persistent, raging hard-on that made me turn the shower from warm and perfect to ice cold and punishing?
That was a different matter.
27
IRELAND
Spring turned to summer, and the campus of Live Oak had never been so full of color.
Or maybe I was just seeing it again.
Interest in my ballroom class skyrocketed among the senior citizens of coastal Alabama after a tentative announcement was made about a greenhouse fundraising gala—the big event we hoped would raise enough money for a huge, accessible greenhouse right here on campus.
