The Arrival | The House of Voices #3

Thirty Three - Impulsive

Impulsive

 

I woke up the next morning to find that Parish had woken up before me. I rolled over in the empty bed and stretched out, wondering where he’d wandered off to.

My question was soon answered when I heard the shower in the adjoining bathroom turn on.

With a yawn, I rolled out of bed and over to the bag on the floor by the dresser and pulled a few clothes out of it. A clean shirt and jeans, a new bra and underwear. Folding them into a neat pile, I gathered the clothes in my arms and stepped out of the room, wanting to find Ace and ask permission to use her bathroom and nearly crashed into her in the hallway.

“Hey, you’re up!” She said, hopping out of the way just in time to avoid me slamming into her. She looked like herself today. The dreadlocks were gone and she was brown-skinned again. Her eyes were their usual bright green. “How’s Parish doing?”

“Alright, I think,” I answered, stepping back. “He was up before me and is in the shower now.”

“Right. So I guess it’s safe to assume he’s feeling better?” She asked, reaching behind to pull her long hair into a high ponytail at the back of her head.

“I think it is.”

“Awesome. What are you doing out here anyway?”

“I was coming down to ask you if I could use your shower. Since, you know, Parish is using the one in the guest room.” I told her, gesturing to the clothes   in my hand.

A wicked look crossed her face. “Why, is it too soon for—” She paused and the look on her face turned from teasing to sheepish. “You know what? Never mind. You can totally use my shower.”

I was about to ask what she’d been about to say when another voice from behind us spoke up. “Were you really about to say what I think you were going to say?”

Ace and I turned around to see Spade standing at the top of the staircase, dressed in his running clothes, sweating slightly. I’d been under the impression he was at university, but Ace didn’t look very surprised to see him, standing behind us with a teasing look on his face.

Smudges of red appeared on Ace’s mocha cheeks and she bashfully avoided Spade’s gaze. “No,” she said hurriedly.

He sniggered, sauntering over to us. “I know you were,”

“You know nothing, Jon Snow!” She huffed, turning away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

Grinning wildly now, he stopped beside her and, doing that little head tilt he always did whenever he looked at her, he tsked. His damp hair shook around his head. “Terrible girl,” he said.

“Oh, go take a shower and leave me alone.” She huffed.

Spade grinned at her for a second longer because bowing his head. “As you wish,” he said, turning and walking towards his room.

I watched as Ace narrowed her eyes in his direction, looking ruffled. I was about to ask her why she looked like she wanted to smack him when she mumbled something under her breath. “That’s a reference,” she grumbled, still squinting at his, now, closed door. “I just know it is.”

“Ace…?”

“Oh, right. The shower, sorry.” She gave me an apologetic smile. “Yeah, you can use mine. Do you have your toothbrush and stuff?”

“Yeah, everything’s here. I just need a towel.”

“There are fresh ones in the cupboard under the sink.”