Twice Shy

13 TWICE SHY

It is already sunset when Ilyaz is the first to sit up, and I shove him backwards to hurry off inside the house, cackling over my cheat of a head start. I know the first thing he'll want to do when he gets inside is take a hot shower, so I beat him there.

I'm stripping off my clothes the second I get inside, shaking like a dog with my wet hair, and lock myself in the bathroom. Muah-ha-ha. Now he'll have to wait. I'm going to take an hourlong shower and use up all the hot water.

The shower has just gotten hot enough to be pleasantly scalding when Ilyaz unlocks the bathroom door and bursts inside. We've got one of those doorknobs you can pick by sticking a penny into the notch and turning it. I use this trick whenever I need something from the bathroom and he's shut himself in there to shave or admire himself in the mirror, but I don't think I appreciate being on the other end of it.

"Hey!" I squeak, trying to cover all my interesting parts with my hands. The glass shower door is all steamed up, so I'm probably just a flesh-colored blur to him, "I could've been doing number two in here,"

"With the shower running?"

"You never know?"

My heart has leapt a mile out of my rib cage when he starts peeling his flannel off. In fact it's playing leapfrog over my organs. The muscles on his back which smoothes down in an elegant V-shape, and abdomen create shadows between curves of flesh, and his hair damp from earlier is all it's unruly and unkept glory. All the hiking and moving has been kind to his body, and I'm not complaining.

I clear my throat, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Taking a shower."

"I'm already in here."

"Good for you."

Ilyaz completely ignores my shock. I'm a modest and innocent puritan lady, and he's out to steal my virtue. My mind flashes to previous episodes of not wearing clothes with him and it's a good thing the water's so hot there is steam everywhere, or he'd be able to tell I'm blushing. I remember how his mother has deluded herself into believing he's a virgin, and I smirk before I can help it.

Ilyaz cocks an eyebrow at me as he slides open the door and steps inside. I wait for his gaze to lower, but it doesn't. He shakes his head in amusement, probably because I'm still trying to cover myself, then turns and starts lathering himself up with soap.

I don't move. I need to wash my hair but that would require the use of my hands. I decide to face opposite him, minimizing what he can see. The back's not as interesting as the front, I think.

I'm wrong about that, which becomes glaringly apparent when I catch our reflections in the shower door. He's looking at me. My gaze slides below his waist without my consent and clearly he's found something about my back to appreciate.

"Don't look at me," I hiss.

His laugh is deep and rich-sounding in the acoustics of our foggy bathroom. "I'm not."

"Yes, you are."
"How do you know unless you're looking, too?" He reaches for my conditioner.

I spin around and take it from him. "This is mine and it's expensive. Get your own." He smiles like he wants to laugh because I've slipped up with the placement of my hands, so I quickly cover his eyes. He squints under my palm, nose scrunching.

"I can still see,"

"God," I groan, turning around.

"Yes?"

I stomp on his foot, and he grunts under his breath.

My only course of action here is to hurry up so I can escape. I try to bend over a little to make myself smaller, because in my mind that gives him less to see, sneaking glances at him in the shower door. He's washing himself more slowly than he ever has in his life, staring openly. I think he's trying to get me flustered. If so, it's working. I slip a hand behind me, trying to span my fingers over my rear and block him from anything enjoyable, which just makes him laugh again.