CHAPTER 11

Samantha:

Friday ends up being like three months long. At least that’s what it feels like. I’ve never been so bored, so antsy hanging at home by myself. Maybe it’s because I’m in a new place and still don’t feel fully settled. Or maybe it’s because I can’t get my mind off Gavin and keep hoping he’ll come walking through the door at any moment.

Shortly after lunch time, I text Robby to ask when he—and Gavin—are going to be home. Mostly to get an idea of when I might see Gavin again. Not that I don’t love my cousin, but right now, I could care less when he’ll be home. Rob takes almost two hours to respond to let me know that he’s going to the show straight from work, and he thinks Gavin is working a double at the gym today. So he probably won’t be at the show.

As disappointing as that news is, I’m still excited for a girls’ night. I can’t remember the last time I got to go out somewhere with Sarah, and I’m always excited to see Mags and Abby. And after the weird roller coaster of a week I’ve had, I could use the support from my ladies. At least I’ll be out having a good time instead of sitting home pining for my hottie roommate-slash-teacher.

And having the apartment entirely to myself is nice. I take my time getting ready, even springing for a long bath instead of a quick shower. And maybe I watch the door a little more carefully during this bath than on Monday, but it ends up being a private affair today. When I’m finished, and two-thirds human prune, I wrap myself in a towel and head to my little alcove bedroom area to get ready for tonight.

Almost as an afterthought, I turn on my Bluetooth speaker and grab my phone. I scroll to my favorite dancey playlist to amp myself up for tonight, strutting away only after assuring myself that the music is playing through the speaker. I drop my towel and reach for my smallest pair of red lace panties, sliding them over my feet and up my freshly shaved legs. I let them snap against my hips as I dance across the small alcove to the mirror where my matching bra hangs precariously from the corner.

My reflection catches my eye as I step in front of the mirror, and I take a minute to survey myself. I’m all creamy skin and feminine softness, curvy in places, narrow in others. No one would ever accuse me of being skinny, but I’m happy with my body. Almost on their own, my hands slide up, over my hips, across my stomach, and under my breasts to cup them.

What would it be like to have Gavin’s hands on me, tracing me, cupping me this way? I shake my hips in time to the beat and let my hands continue their journey up into my hair. My fingers tangle in the golden waves, pulling them away from my neck as I imagine Gavin’s lips gliding along the curve of my collarbone.

Slam! The front door swings open and bangs against the wall so hard it rocks the mirror in front of me. “Thanks Mrs. Wahler! I’ll let Rob know.” Gavin is in the doorway holding a paper grocery bag in his arm and looking behind him, speaking to someone out of sight in the hallway. His gym bag is slung over one shoulder.

“Fuck!” I barely have time to drop my hands to cover my breasts before Gavin turns my way. When he lays eyes on me, his gasp is so violent, he chokes on the intake of air. As if that isn’t enough, two guys I didn’t know happen to be passing by in the hallway right at that exact moment.

I freeze. There’s a good chance my jaw is on the floor. I try desperately to find the words to tell Gavin to close the door, but all that escapes my wide-open trap are guttural grunts, which I accompany with some weird, chicken-like gestures as I motion with my elbows for him to shut the door. Under other circumstances, I might have been bolder, might not have been bothered by him walking in on me in my underwear, but the peanut gallery behind him is a very unwanted accompaniment.

Almost like we are in a black hole, time slows to a tortured crawl, and every detail of the moment, of the room, comes into sharp, pinpoint focus. Gavin hangs from the doorknob, one foot still in the air, his mouth puckering and unpuckering like a water-starved fish. He at least is moving, swaying ever-so-slowly away from the doorframe like a slow-mo replay of a man falling over backward. His face is so red that in some deep recess of my mind, I wonder if he is having a heart attack, and his eyes are glued to some part of my body south of my neck. I don’t try to figure out which part.

The guys behind Gavin are the only ones not caught in our time-warped melodrama. Their laughter seems to echo through the room, an assault on my ultra-sensitized ears. It shocks me out of my stupor.

“In or out!” I screech, still clutching desperately at my barely concealed breasts. Gavin, still standing between me and privacy, snaps into action. He spins full circle to face down the hall—presumably in the direction he just came from—and yanks the door so hard I’m surprised the knob doesn’t come off in his hand. The door closes with a crack that sets the mirror to shaking even more forcefully than when he’d slammed the damn thing open.

I’m fully clothed in ten seconds flat, but I don’t open the door right away. I’m scared to check whether Gavin and the rest of my accidental audience is still out there or not. Obviously, some supreme being has taken notice of me and decided to turn my life into one big cosmic joke. I’ve gone my whole life without being accidentally walked in on naked. Now, in the span of less than I week, Gavin has walked in on me twice. I tug my white T-shirt down over my waistband, then slide sweaty palms down the thighs of my jeans. Opening the door seems like a monumental task, but eventually, I make the fifteen-foot trek across the room and turn the knob. After sucking in a nervous lungful of air, I pull the door open, peeking out beyond the opening.

The guys who treated themselves to my impromptu peepshow are gone. Gavin stands alone in the hall with his back against the wall, still hugging his bag of groceries. His left leg is raised with his foot propped against the wall, and his head is tipped back, eyes closed. He looks relaxed, except for the fingers of his left hand drumming an anxious beat against his knee.

“Hey.” My voice is practically a whisper, but he still hears me. He opens his eyes and rights his head slowly, taking his time looking at me. The rest of his movements are equally as languid as he drops his booted foot to the floor and steps away from the wall.

“Hey.” He’s looking past me, and two pink circles color his cheeks.

“You coming in?” I figure the path of least embarrassment would be to pretend he hasn’t just seen me in nothing more than a pair of barely there panties. He nods, swings his book around in front of him and heads my way.

I back up to let him into the apartment, then shut the door behind us.

Gavin drops his gym bag on the floor by the door and kicks his shoes off. Then he heads for the kitchen. “I’m beginning to think you’re a bit of an exhibitionist,” he calls over his shoulder in a teasing tone.

“Only accidentally,” I say, heading into the living room and plopping down on the couch. The heat of embarrassment snakes a trail up my neck and into my cheeks. I’m sure I’m in a full-on blush by the time Gavin emerges from the kitchen with a bottle of water in hand. He sits down at the other end of the couch and pulls his phone out of his pocket, begins skimming through his apps.

Silence stretches, but with every minute that goes by in this hanging-out-but-not-really dynamic he’s affected, my comfort grows until I’m no longer feeling weighed down under the crush of mortification that comes from being caught in your underwear by the guy you like, not to mention two complete strangers.

When I’m feeling more like my secure, self-assured self again, I get up from the couch and head for my alcove area to put on my makeup. “I should get ready.”

“Going out?” he asks.

“Yeah, some friends and I are going to Robby’s show. They’re coming to pick me up in about an hour.” I look at the clock to verify. 7:20. “Well, more like forty-five minutes, now.”

Gavin looks up at me with something like anticipation in his expression. “I guess I’ll see you there.”

I slide the curtain separating my area from the living room closed behind me, something I should have done before I went dancing around the place naked. When I come back out half an hour later, Gavin is gone from the living room.

Sarah texts me at exactly 8:05 to tell me she and Maggie here. I grab my purse and my apartment key and head for the door. I call a goodbye to Gavin but don’t hear a response before I head out the door. I hope he’s right; I hope I do see him there.