9. Nadia
9
NADIA
O h. My. God.
Seeing Dalton tricked out in scrubs is one thing, and asleep in a T-shirt and shorts is another.
But currently, my roommate is standing outside of the bathroom without a stitch on.
The light from behind him halos his damp hair and leaves shadows that define every muscle. His shoulders are broad and carved like marble. His chest is honed and hairless, like an underwear model.
But there’s no underwear to model here. The long plane of his belly slides directly into a V that points right at a part of his anatomy that must know I’m looking. It starts to take shape, lifting and growing like it has a life of its own.
I can’t stop staring.
“Shit,” Dalton says, and the object of my intense stare is turned from my view, leaving me with a wide back and butt cheeks that ought to be put on posters.
He darts back into the bathroom. “I didn’t know you were here!” he calls out. “Shit! I’m sorry!”
I’m not. I feel thunderstruck, pinned to the carpet until the view returns.
But when it does, he’s wrapped himself in a towel. I’m missing the midsection, but I get the full effect of his chest and arms and legs.
“I didn’t grab my clothes. Your cat … I didn’t want to disturb her. I didn’t know. I—” He stammers on, but I manage to tear my gaze from his body and set my bag on the sofa.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be up yet,” I say, tucking a hunk of hair behind my ear.
“I am. I crashed. I should have planned better.”
“It’s fine.”
He rushes over to the bed and kneels down to drag out an army duffle. He’s so busy tunneling through his clothes that he doesn’t notice when the towel gets loose and falls off.
I sit on the sofa, trying to stifle my giggle. There’s that glorious butt again, perched on strong calves as he squats and searches for an outfit.
He stands abruptly, then realizes he’s lost the towel again.
“For Christ’s sake,” he says, bending down to snatch it, giving me an incredible view of the back of his thighs.
When does he get a chance to work out? Maybe he had more free time before his internship.
Then he’s covered again.
I bite my lip to force my smile down before he turns around.
He heads back to the bathroom. “I’ll be back. Decent this time.” The door slams shut.
I take the moment to pull a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized T-shirt from a drawer. I’m not sure what he’s going to be up to next, but I’m dead on my feet. Thankfully, I don’t work tomorrow. My weekend shift is Sunday.
His Transformer bedspread is rumpled. I realize we’re sharing a pillow. I sit on the bed and lean down to sniff it.
It smells mostly of me, my hair products and a whiff of floral shampoo. But mixed in there is something that is definitely Dalton.
He steps out and I quickly sit up.
“I didn’t expect you back at this hour,” he says, trying to casually lean on his elbow on the surface of the bar, missing, then shifting in place to try again.
He’s rattled.
“I went to an all-night diner,” I tell him. That part’s true. I stayed there for seven straight hours, finished my book, and ate three pieces of pie with six cups of coffee.
“Oh. I thought…” He trails off.
“You thought what?”
“Nothing. I have dumb thoughts.”
I pick up my sleeping clothes. I’m halfway to the bathroom when it hits me. “You thought I hooked up with some guy and was at his place?”
He won’t meet my gaze.
I guess I shouldn’t argue the point. Let him think what he wants. It’s not like I wouldn’t have a one-nighter. It’s just that typically, I don’t. I’m cautious. And LA is known for its sharks.
“I guess I didn’t realize you had a lot of friends here,” he said. “Since you said you were new to town, like me.”
Oh, this lie is going to bite me on the butt. I almost say they are work friends from the deli, but given the cast of characters involved, only one of whom fits the might-go-to-the-club demographic, I’m too likely to get caught later.
Better to say nothing. I move into the bathroom and close the door.
It’s steamy from Dalton’s shower. I breathe in the warm air and the smell of his herbal bath wash.
His bottles rest on the edge of the tub. I take a moment to rearrange mine so there is room for his.
The mirror is obscured, so I wipe it down with my towel. I notice his laundry bag hanging on the back of the door.
It’s not my space but both of ours. It might be small, but we’ll have to figure things out.
Like sleeping.
I remove all the makeup and twist my hair into a quick bun. By the time I’m ready for bed, it’s almost six a.m. and I’m exhausted. I’m the one who’s been up for twenty-four hours now.
But I have nothing to do today. And we have blackout curtains, something I picked up immediately, knowing Dalton would be sleeping at odd hours.
When I come out, he’s sitting on the sofa. He looks up, and the heat of his gaze touches my legs, face, and the shirt where my braless nipples are poking the fabric.
I feel almost as naked as he was, but the way heat pools in me tells me my reaction is almost as strong as his was earlier when I saw him. His was just more obvious.
This is a problem. It’s one thing to room with a stranger. It’s another thing entirely to feel an attraction to him.
I have to knock it off.
“I’m pretty tired,” I tell him.
“I have errands,” he says. “And I want to go for a run before it gets hot.”
I drag my blue comforter over to the bed. He’s already removed his Transformer blanket. “Do you always shower before you run?”
He doesn’t answer, and I wonder if I’ve caught him in a white lie.
This will never do.
I toss my bedding onto the mattress. “Look,” I say.
“Hey,” he says at the same moment.
We both laugh a little.
“You first,” he says.
I sit on the bed. “I think we need to accept that there will be occasional awkwardness.”
“Agreed,” he says.
“But we also need to be honest about things.”
He frowns. “Okay.”
“You don’t have to make up some excuse to get out of my way. And I won’t make up any to get out of yours.” I look up at the ceiling. “Maybe we can string up some sort of curtain so we can both be here when one of us is sleeping.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“And we should agree that we shouldn’t put ourselves out to avoid the other one. We have to co-exist here.”
“Agreed.”
“So don’t feel like you need to go anywhere,” I tell him.
“But, I really do plan to go for a run,” he says.
I lie down and pull the blue comforter over me. “Okay, Dalton.”
“I’ll be back after lunch. And I’ll get my own pillow. And see if I can spot some curtainy thing.”
“That’ll be good.”
“You want me to put your cell on the charger?” He picks up the phone I left on the sofa.
“That would be nice.”
He crosses the room and plugs it in on the dresser. “Sweet dreams.”
I’m not sure he says anything else, because I am out cold.