Chapter 26 Don’t Slip on the Butter
Don’t Slip on the Butter
— T ODAY —
“Amelie? What was that noise?” The handle of the door rattles. “Are you okay?”
I wail, the throbbing pain in my shoulder only second to the gut-wrenching awareness that I can’t get up. I’m stuck in a bathtub, in only my panties, with one leg shaved, the other one hairy, and the lower half of my body buttered like French toast.
“I—”
“ Amelie? ”
I groan, holding a butter-slick hand over my eyes. “I’m fine! I’m—I’m not fine but I’m… fine.”
“Can you please open the door?”
Oh, God. The door is locked. The door is locked! Ian can’t help me, as humiliating as that would be. He’s going to have to call someone from the hotel. Hell, they might have to call the fire department. How much more pathetic will I look when they find me and I’m bawling?
“Amelie, you’re freaking me out. Can you please—”
“I forgot how to have sex!” I burst. My heart is thumping in every inch of my skin, the pain in my shoulder intensifying by the second.
“You—” There’s a beat of silence. “That’s, hmm, fine. Come out of the bathroom. I’ll… show you, okay? I’ll show you how to have… sex.”
Oh, just kill me now.
“No, Ian, I forgot that to have sex you need to be naked.”
“You’re gorgeous, Amelie, don’t—”
“So I didn’t shave my legs.”
“Your… legs?” There’s a light chuckle this time. “It’s fine, beautiful. I never shave my legs.”
“But—but I needed to, so I took your razor.” He doesn’t say anything, and I can only pray he doesn’t deem it the huge invasion of privacy it feels like now that I say it out loud. “The problem is, I couldn’t find any soap or shaving cream.”
“They’re here. Open the door and I’ll hand them over.”
Holding back tears, I clean the butter off my hand on my hip, but when I try to pull myself up, I end up only causing a screeching pain on my shoulder as my fingers slide along the ceramic tub. Settling back down, I breathe out slowly. “I used butter.”
“Butter?”
“Butter,” I confirm. I’m almost numb, as if my brain has shut down from too much embarrassment.
“Is it a French cuisine chef thing? Do you guys always have butter on your person?”
“I had some from before, when—” With an eye roll, I look up at the ceiling. “Yes. Yes, it’s a French cuisine chef thing .”
“Well, what’s the problem? You’re just gonna have to wash off really well because, well, the smell.”
“The problem is butter is slippery. I fell in the tub and I hurt my shoulder. And now the door is locked and I can’t get up because, well… butter is really slippery.”
“You’re hurt ?” The handle rattles again. “Why the fuck didn’t you start with that?”
I don’t know. Maybe I was hoping I’d find a solution in the meantime. It doesn’t look like he has one. He keeps trying to open the door.
When he stops, I sigh. He’s probably gone to call the front desk and ask for help. Maybe if I close my eyes and wish for it really hard, this will turn into a dream.
There’s a thump that makes me flinch, which also makes me cry out in pain. Then another one. “What are you doing?” I call.
“I’m breaking the door down.”
“Isn’t that a little excessive?”
“Remember our friendly date?” Before another thump comes, I shout that I do. “I told you that, with hairpins and the right attitude, no door is truly locked.”
“I remember,” I confirm.
“Well, count that as one of my lies. I don’t know how to pick a lock, so it’s either this or someone’s going to have to screw the lock off the door. Which one would you prefer?”
With barely any thought, I answer, “Break the door down. But then… close your eyes.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“I have no bra on, I only shaved one of my legs, and I’m covered in your worst nightmare,” I say as I frown at the stick of butter, which is pressed against my ankle.
I hear him chuckle as the thumps continue. On the third thump, the door opens, and my heart rate spikes.
“Okay. I’ve got my eyes closed. How are you feeling, beautiful?”
“I’ve been better,” I grumble. There’s a relieved smile on his face, but as he leans forward, it turns into a disgusted sneer. “Ugh. The smell. It’s like a cow’s living in here.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“How are we doing this?”
I sigh, looking around. “I don’t… Can you pick me up?”
“I just broke a door down. You bet your beautiful ass I can pick you up,” he says smugly, then holds out both hands. “But you’re gonna have to guide me.”
“Yeah. Not—just a little down. No, not that hand; the other one. No, this hand is—” His open palm presses on my face.
“Oh. Hi, Amelie.”
“Can you be serious, Ian?”
A chortle escapes his lips. “Right now? Not really.”
“Just help me up!”
“How’s this?” He puts one arm under my legs, then the other behind my back. With little effort, he picks me up and, oh my God, he’s holding me against him and I’m so fucking naked. “Okay. I’ll set you down now. Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“No, it’s already much better now that I’m not squished inside the tub. Just pass me my dress, please.”
He smiles sweetly at the defeated tone of my voice, and I set my naked feet on the floor. “Where is it?”
“Behind you, to your—”
He turns around and takes a sure step, his face hitting the extended mirror. After letting out a groan, he sighs deeply. “Yeah, I’m opening my eyes.”
“Look at my face— only at my face.”
“Okay.” He grabs my dress, and as he turns around, his eyes find mine immediately. Holding a hand to my cheek, he whispers, “Are you in a lot of pain?”
I shake my head. “No. Really, I’m okay.”
“Can I kiss you, then?”
“Please.”
He smiles, then leans forward and drops a couple of gentle kisses on my lips. When he pulls back, his eyes run down to my breasts. “Shit—sorry.”
“Ian!”
“I’m sorry! They’re calling to me!” He holds a hand over his eyes, chuckles sputtering out of his mouth. “They’re evil, Amelie. They’re evil and gorgeous and out to get me.”
“Just help me put on the damn dress.”
He presses his lips tightly together and uncovers his eyes, his face tense as he stares straight at me. Now that I’m dressed, he picks me up once again. I’d like to protest, but walking on my buttery feet and no shoes would probably land me face-first on the floor.
Silently, he carries me to the bed, where he sets me down. He hands me a towel, and I clean off as much of the butter as I can. As he leans with his back against the wall and watches me, he’s not smiling anymore, but he doesn’t look upset either. I wonder if what happened tonight convinced him not to ever have sex with me.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask as I put the towel down. Ian has never once been this silent before, and it’s freaking me out.
Peals of laughter erupt from him, and he bends over for a second before straightening back up and trying to contain his amusement. “Just… I can’t stop thinking of butter pickup lines.”
“Don’t you dare,” I say, relief mixing with embarrassment.
“I won’t.” He forces a serious expression on his face, his lips tight into a straight line. I know this is killing him.
“Fine. Just one.”
“We’re butter together.”
“Fun.”
“You’re my butter half?”
“Hmm.”
“Amelie, you really churn me on.”
“You know, it’s not funny. I do feel some pain,” I say as he comes to sit next to me.
Gently squeezing my leg, he smiles. “Don’t worry. You’ll feel butter soon.”
“What happened then?” Barb asks, eyes bulging, her spoon frozen in midair over her cereal. “Because you definitely slept in your bed. I heard you come back early last night.”
Glancing in the direction of the other tables and making sure Ian isn’t anywhere around, I grit my teeth. “Then I smacked his shoulder, he tickled my side, and we had one of those moments. You know, when it’s clear you’re about to kiss.”
“Sure.”
I nod, hating my next words even before I say them out loud. “Then I said, ‘Thank you for everything. We should do this again,’ and basically ran away without looking at him.”
She inhales through her teeth and scoops up some cereal. “?‘We should do this again’? What, slipping on butter and breaking down doors?” At my glare, she looks away, silence stretching for a while. “What happened to the macarons?”
I snort out a laugh, her cheeks turning a shade redder as she shrinks in her chair. “I’m afraid we left them behind. Cravings are that bad, huh?”
“I’d sell you and Ryan for one of those bad boys right now.”
“Damn.” I fidget with the chain of my necklace. “Before we went to his room, he said he’d come back to set them aside for you.”
Her eyes sparkle, but she shakes her head slightly when she sees me massaging my shoulder. “How’s the pain?”
“It’s fine,” I grumble. God, I feel so humiliated, I wish I could peel my skin off. “Bruised, but it’s my dignity that’s been battered.”
“That’s funny, because it actually sounds like butt—”
“Don’t even,” I warn with a motion of my hand. I can deal with these stupid jokes only if they’re delivered by Ian’s perfect lips.
“So you had a little bit of a freakout,” Barb says, patting my hand reassuringly. “It happens. You haven’t had sex in a while. You haven’t had good sex in forever. And you’ve never slept with Ian.”
“And she never will if she keeps running away from me,” Ian says from beside us.
Fucking hell. Barb giggles nervously as she throws a look at him, gives me the side-eye, and then focuses on her cereal bowl as if she’ll be quizzed about it later. And I don’t exactly have it in me to look at him, so I press my eyes shut and think of all the ways I’d rather die at this very moment than face him.
“Mind if I join you?”
“N-no, of course not,” I mutter, opening my eyes again, and once he sits by my side and his citrusy scent wafts around me, I give him a fleeting smile. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” He throws a glance at Barb. “I just wanted to say—”
“Do you—” Barb interrupts, wrapping one of her red curls around her index finger. “I… if you could just tell me where the macarons are, I’ll be on my way.”
Ian’s eyes jump from her to me, then to her again. “Right. I would have brought them over, but I didn’t want to risk waking you up.”
“We have an extra key if you want it.”
“Barb!” I shriek.
“What?” she shrieks back. “I just want him to be able to bring food should last night’s events repeat themselves.”
“Jesus—Barb!”
“The macarons are in the fridge,” Ian says with a charming smile. Once Barb thanks him and hops up, he turns to me. “I like her.”
“She’s great,” I confirm as I watch her walk away. I’m still kicking her the moment she pops that baby out, though.
“So, hmm… I wanted to say that we can pretend last night never happened. It was a bit optimistic of us to think we could have sex without feelings getting involved anyway.” He pushes his hair back. “And you’re not a one-night-stand kind of person, I get it.”
I cross my arms. “Says who?” When all he does is tilt his head, I continue. “Yes, last night I had a minor freakout. Is relentless Ian giving up after a small hiccup?”
His smile is wide as he looks around, then leans forward. “Is that how you feel?”
“Yes.”
He hums, his hand reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. He takes out his wallet, then the key card to his room. “Fine. I’ll even give you a head start.” Holding the key out for me, he whispers, “Take this, go upstairs, get comfortable. And wait for me.”
Wait for me.
It sounds like a dangerous promise.
I swallow, my chest cavity suddenly empty and filled with rocks at the same time. “Right… right now?”
“Mm-hmm.” His strong hand rests on my thigh. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve waited long enough. In fact, we’ve had the longest bout of foreplay known to humanity.”
Bolting up, I smile nervously. “We have the seminar soon. We should—”
“Barbara and Ella have it covered,” he says as he stands too.
He smiles, calm and unbothered, and, boy, I could hit him in the head with one of those big plastic hammers. He’s testing me, and I’m failing big-time.
When I say nothing, he slips his key back into his wallet. “I’ll see you in class.” And with the usual lovely smile, he walks away.