He jumps up and sprints to the living room, far from the water, not waiting for me. Shaking his enormous paws as soon as he steps on the dry surface, he shoots me a worried look and proceeds to dry himself.
Me though… It takes me a while to lift my wet, battered body from the floor. I’m soaked. My hair is a disaster. My clothes cling to my body like a sleazy second skin.
Wait a minute!I look down and groan. My nipples are on full display. And the hot man had seen all this mess, everything I’ve tried to hide for years. Everything I never planned to share.Why, universe? Why?
I slowly walk toward the shower. I’m cold to the bone, and even though my skin looks wrinkly, like I’m two hundred years old from marinating in the water for so long, I still need a shower. And I need to warm myself up ASAP before I catch pneumonia.
I strip and get inside…
And no water comes from the shower-head. I groan as the cold sends painful shivers down my body. I forgot Mark shut off the main valve, and so there will be no hot water—or any water—for me in the foreseeable future. So I pull one of the towels from the hook by the tub, wrap myself in it, and enter the nothingness of my mind. I go there often since that night. Sometimes, my mind enters a stage where it can’t take anymore and just erases everything and thinks of nothing.
I don’t know how long I’ve been in here, but a loud barking brings me back. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the fog and look at the dog. He stops barking and watches me with a slight tilt of his head.
“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” I smile at Ghost, and I swear he smiles back. “Also, you’re a bit of a pervert.”
I step out of the shower and dry myself with a big, fluffy towel. Then I dry Ghost as much as I can with the same towel. He deserves his own, but I don’t have another available at the moment. The bathroom is a decent size, but there is almost zero storage here, so I put all my towels in the dresser in the bedroom.
I throw a sad look in the direction of the kitchen. I don’t even want to think about how much I’ll have to pay to fix this water damage.
I sigh before walking to the bedroom. I climb on the bed and put on another pair of pants and a T-shirt, both extra big of course. Folding the pants up at the bottom just in case, I climb out of bed and motion for Ghost to follow me. I grab a few towels on the way and a pair of fuzzy slippers because it’s cold outside. I’m not psycho enough to walk barefoot, even in this state.
When I pass the kitchen, I throw the towels on the floor so more water won’t slip through. I stop for a moment, contemplating if I should just get rid of the water in the kitchen now or wait till later. It won’t go anywhere. I’m about to drop my slippers and get to work when I feel exhaustion eating my muscles and bones. My knees crack like I’m ninety-nine, and I give up on the idea of doing anything but sleeping tonight.
We slowly walk toward my neighbor’s house. Ghost’s letting me know he’s here with me by pressing his big, warm body to my leg. I drop my hand and touch his fur. He’s still wet, but at least water isn’t dripping from him anymore.
As I slowly move my feet, I think about what the hell I am doing here. Why did I agree to go to a stranger’s house? What if I have a nightmare? What if he’s likethem?
I shake my head because no, he is not.
Despite my attempt at relaxing, I still stop. I look back at my house. Maybe I’m safer in there, even with a busted door.
A fluffy body moves behind my legs, pushing me forward, and I laugh. Squatting to the dog’s level, I say to him, “Can you read my mind, good boy?”
He blinks at me with his beautiful, intelligent eyes.
“Do you think I’ll be all right?”
He sticks his tongue out and gives me a long, slobbery doggy kiss on my cheek, making me giggle. The old Alicia would absolutely hate it. She was so squeamish. But I’m not her anymore. This moment with him is something special. I cherish every single interaction I have in my life now. They don’t come often because I never have the guts to be around people. I guess dogs are my buddies now.
I stand and proceed my walk at a snail’s pace to the neighbor’s house. I guess I should call him by his name.Mark.That’s what the other firefighter called him. Such a short yet strong name. I like it.
When we finally make it to the house, the door is slightly ajar, and Ghost runs inside. I slowly step over the threshold, expecting a bachelor’s den, like my brother used to have before Kayla moved in: beer cans, dirty clothes, dishes everywhere. But something different greets me.
The house is simple but beautiful. He was right; it’s got the same layout as my house. The only difference is that it mirrors mine. It has the same ancient fireplace, but his looks better. More polished. The kitchen has a rectangular marble island. The backsplash is a work of art, like the most difficult mosaic of abstract figures, yet the simplest one. The cabinets are wood. The molding around the house is spectacular, so many tiny details merged into one gorgeous pattern. An oversized, worn-out leather couch sits in the middle of the living room, and a ginormous flat-screen TV hangs on the wall in front of it.
I gasp as I look around.
“It’s so beautiful,” I whisper to myself.
“Thank you.” A low voice comes from behind me, and I jump.
Mark steps back, throwing his hands up in front of him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s fine. Sorry,” I answer. When will I stop jumping when a man talks to me? “I didn’t expect your house to look so…” I can’t find the right word.
“Clean?” He raises a brow.
“Perfect.” That’s the word. His house is what I picture when someone sayshome.
