We Go Way Back

chapter ten

SATURDAY, THE DREADED day. I had to take the day off, which didn't please Rachel since Valentine's Day is rapidly approaching and there is still a lot to do. The mugs arrived two days late, but we managed to catalog them quickly. I came up with a pretty good solution for the trivia matchmaking problem — different bowls. Couples sign up for the trivia together, singles get assigned a number which is thrown into the bowl that represents their gender and sexual preference. Then, they're randomized and boom, we're the human embodiments of the cupid. Nonetheless, most of the decorations are nowhere near ready for the day.

Part of me wishes that I was at the café dealing with that, getting those weird looks from Tom, but I promised I'd help Corbin out in his quest for a promotion, and where else would I wear that dashing, expensive dress? Not at Angie's, that's for sure.

I wake up early to take a shower before Corbin is even up. He's always complaining about how long I take to shower, so I'd rather do it while he's out cold. I take my time shaving carefully — after all, the dress has a pretty dangerous slit — and exfoliating. Then, still wrapped in a towel and with another one on my head, I sit on the toilet and prop my feet up on the sink. I paint my nails and toenails in black, the same color as the heels and purse I'll be wearing.

Loud bangs at the door make me jump in my place and the nail polish brush streaks the side of my pinky toe.

"Delilah!" Corbin grunts. "Get out."

I should've gotten up even earlier. "I'm getting ready to charm the pants off your bosses."

"I need to go to the bathroom, hurry the fuck up."

I wipe the black polish from my skin with a little bit of acetone on a cotton pad. "I'm going, stop rushing me."

"You take an eternity every time you take a shower."

"Ugh," I grunt, standing up from the toilet and walking over to the door. I'm still in just a towel, but I open it and strut right past him. Alright, maybe I didn't strut, I waddled with my toes pointed up.

Corbin has a pair of flannel pajama pants on, but nothing more except tousled hair and puffy eyes. My eyes dart to his taut, defined abdomen. I almost drool, registering all of this in a fraction of a second.

"What's that smell?" He asks, crinkling his nose as he enters the bathroom. "Are you cooking meth in there?"

I raise the bottle of nail polish remover in the air. "How do you even know what meth labs smell like?"

"Lucky guess."

When he finally leaves the bathroom, I take my time styling my hair. The ball is only at six, but in days like these, with important events, my mother always told me that I should start getting ready as soon as possible, in case that any mishap happens. My hair takes forever to dry and even under intense heat and heaps of product, those pesky flyaway hairs insist on sticking up and out. I straighten it and spend lengthy minutes raiding the Internet for cute hairstyles. Unable to settle on one, I leave it like that for the time being.

Corbin showers after ordering Mexican for the both of us. Once more, he knows my order to a T, and I act like it's normal and doesn't affect me. It's been five weeks post-William, I'm sure that these fizzy feelings mean that I'm reeling from having someone to kiss and cuddle me every day. My stupid brain will not take the best of me. Not this time.

We eat in silence, both of us on our cellphones. I text Rory, telling her about the latest updates in my adventure while living with Corbin and she is shocked that I even said yes. I never saw this coming, she writes, it's weird. A good weird.

Don't get your hopes up, I text back, I'm just doing him a favor.

Her response comes quickly after. And then he'll do you a favor, she adds a winking emoji. From what I've heard from Mariah, he's pretty good in the sack.