21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Addie
U gh. Turning the knob for the millionth time, I try to switch the water from the faucet to the showerhead with no luck. Seriously? It’s a freaking shower, not rocket science. Literally over my dead body am I about to walk out there and ask for help. I try again to turn the lever to the side, and then the other side. Neither work.
Staring at the faucet, I feel it mocking me. Stupid freaking shower. Maybe I could just rinse off with the sink water. No, that won't work. I need soap. I feel gross from the bar, and I’d like to wash the feel of that creep’s hands off me.
What a wild change of events. Even wilder? I have enjoyed every second of time with Sam. The more time I spend with him, the less I feel like this is a bad idea. I don’t even know what this is. We’ve kissed once. And slept together. But not slept together . Although, the thought has crossed my mind more times than I’m willing to admit. And not just since our little sleepover.
Bringing my mind back to the current problem, I realize I have to do the unthinkable: ask for help. With a stupid shower. What kind of idiot needs help with a shower? Apparently, this idiot. Ugh.
Swallowing my pride, I wrap the towel around me and open the door. “Sam,” I say, dragging out his name and recognizing the sound of defeat in my voice.
“Yes, Shortcake?” Unlike me, you can hear the utter delight in his voice.
“Your shower is defective and stupid.”
“Oh, it’s the shower’s fault, huh?” The rise of my brow showing just how stupid I find his reply.
His scent envelopes me in the tight space, and hints of spice and mahogany fill my nostrils. Damn, he smells good. How I didn’t notice this when I woke up next to him—actually, more so on him—is a mystery. I lose myself in a daydream of how good he would smell coming out of a hot, steamy shower. Which leads to thoughts of him in the shower.
Never in my life did I think I would be crushing on Grumpy Gus, Sam. Though, his sass has transformed to this sweetness that I almost don’t know what to do with. I keep waiting for the factory reset to kick in for him to go back to hating everything about everyone.
“You see this little knob here?” He points to it, then pulls it out and voilà . The water starts pouring down, lightly splashing his white tee. Damn, can men win a wet T-shirt contest? His chest tattoos poke out through the wet spots on the shirt, matching the ones decorating his arm. Hot damn.
The space suddenly feels a little too hot, especially when he turns around and his eyes land on mine. The steam from the hot water starts to seep out from behind him, but my eyes are glued to his tattoos.
I convince myself to slowly drag my eyes up to his, expecting to be met with a smirk from my obvious gawking. Instead, I am met with a gaze as heated as mine.
Half of me hopes he feels the pull to him that I do, so that he will lean in and close the little space around us. My lips part on instinct, wanting to be met with his again. Unfortunately for me, he clears his throat and excuses himself.
Since when is eye contact that hot? Seriously. I need to get it the fuck together. He really should be off-limits. He is everything I usually go for and the complete opposite at the same time. He is a little guarded and moody. Usually, the guys that are assholes are the cockiest dudes, with blaring red flags. Apparently, I am color-blind because the red looks a whole lot like green to me. He doesn't have any of those characteristics.
Is he on my bestie’s shit list? Yes. But has he also gone above and beyond to make my life easier and spend time with me? Also, yes.
Deciding I’ve had enough of my own busy brain antics, I hop in the shower. The hot water melts the stress from my body. I am getting way ahead of myself here. Who knows if he is even interested in me? Attraction and interest are two different things. That is a lesson that took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out. At first, I was just attracted to him. But the more time I spend with him, I find myself dipping more into the interest pool, and that’s a little scary.
Not being able to help myself, I squeeze Sam’s body wash in my hands and bring it to my face. His smell fills my head. Seriously, this smell is heavenly. Perfectly masculine and equally warm. Seeing as there are no other options, I lather myself with it. It’s cleaning off the slimy feeling that comes with a night at the bar and Caden’s nasty, grabby hands. I shudder at the thought.
The water rinses over me and I avoid my hair at all costs possible.
Getting out of the shower, I see Sam left me a fresh T-shirt. He must’ve brought it in with him while I was having my little debacle with the stupid shower. After drying off, I slip myself into my leggings and pull his T-shirt over my head. I tie a little knot in the front to keep it from being a dress from our eight-inch height difference.
I wrestle my hair, trying to get it into a decent looking messy bun. After seven tries and my arms feeling like they are going to fall off, it finally resembles something presentable. Can’t have the apartment people thinking I am a total bum. I love Isla, but I need to exit her and Cal’s love bubble ASAP. I’ve been the third wheel long enough.
“How do all of these apartments suck?” I huff as I plop down into the passenger seat.
“Well, they were all in the shit end of town and have slumlords running them, for one.”
“Okay, we’ve got two more to go. The next one is 783 Lincoln Ave. It’s advertised as close to a park and in a nice neighborhood. It’s only a studio, though.”
He pats my leg as he says, “Lincoln Avenue is a nice area. Don’t lose hope.”
I have to hide the smile that begs to flit across my lips when he keeps his hand there as he drives. Why is it that everything this man does makes my heart race? And since when? Actually, as much as I hate to admit it, this man has riled me up since we first met. It just changes form the longer I know him.
We pull up to the front of the building. Sam gives my leg a little squeeze before letting go and I can feel the little zing all the way to my toes. He opens my door and we head inside.
“Well, the hallways don’t have trash in them. That’s a step up from the last place,” I mutter. The building is the cleanest I’ve seen so far. They have an actual front desk and a mailroom, which we popped into first. “The fact that that’s where my hope is coming from is slightly concerning.” This is a single complex, so this is the only building. “I actually kind of like that I won’t have to freeze my ass off in the winter from taking the stairs to my apartment.” Sam’s apartment is amazing, but those stairs in the dead of winter would be the absolute worst.
The door to the apartment is wide open and the manager gives us a warm welcome along with an information sheet about the building. Every apartment I’ve looked at today, Sam has done a little safety check. Are the doors secure? Do the windows lock? Are there carbon monoxide detectors? Probably worked out best that he came along because I usually just rent based on vibes, location, and price. Vibes obviously being the most important.
The apartment overlooks the park. The kitchen has a good-sized island. I can already see myself rolling out cinnamon rolls and baking my heart away in here. A smile finds my face as I drag my hand across the counter. I look up and see Sam watching from across the apartment, a small smile gracing his lips, as well.
He makes his way to me and asks, “I take it you like this one?”
“I do. The bathroom is a good size, considering it’s a studio. Plenty of room for all of my hair stuff. And it has closets not only for my clothes but for all my cleaning stuff. Plus, it’s the right price. I won’t have to sell pictures of my feet on the internet to be able to afford rent and groceries here.”
He chokes out a laugh. “Sounds like you need to get an application.”
Looking over at Sam, I smile, because he’s right. This place just feels right, and honestly, Sam being here with me feels pretty all right, too.