Tell Me It's Real(50)
The shower turned off and I heard a thump followed by some muffled cursing. I hovered near the bathroom door, unsure of what to do. Finally, I knocked. “You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he grumbled. “Just hit my elbow against the wall.”
“You probably shouldn’t do that.”
“Har, har.”
“Drugs wore off, huh?”
“Yeah. Sorry you couldn’t have your way with me before then.”
It was easier, for some reason, talking to him through the door. “What makes you think I didn’t?”
There was a pause. “I still have spunk in my junk,” he finally said.
“You’re like a dirty Dr. Seuss.”
“I’ll do you on the grass. I’ll do you during mass.”
“No thanks. I think I’ll take a pass.” Dammit! Stop rhyming!
He snorted. “You just want a piece of my ass.”
“Wow. That’s thirty seconds of my life I’ll never get back.”
“Your fault.”
“Don’t even try to blame that one on me.”
The lock on the door clicked.
“I’m not going to try and bust in there,” I said, somewhat annoyed.
“Oh, I know,” he said. “Even though I wanted you to, you didn’t.”
“Then why’d you lock the door?”
“Because I’m going to use your toothbrush and I knew you’d probably freak out.”
I glared at the door. “Don’t you dare. That’s disgusting!”
“I’ve had my tongue in your mouth. Same diff.”
I blushed, even though he couldn’t see me. “I will break this fucking door down!” A six-year-old Girl Scout would have sounded more threatening than I did.
“See, I knew you’d freak out.” He started laughing. “Pink? Really? Your toothbrush is pink? Oh my God! Even your toothbrush is a homo!”
“My dentist gave that to me!” I shouted at him, as if that made it special.
“Toothpaste,” he muttered. “Where is the toothpaste?”
“Vince, I will punch your face off,” I warned him.
“Found the toothpaste. Oh, and I found the tampons too. Why is there one missing?”
Oh, crap. “I… uh.”
“Did you use one?”
“What? No! I just wanted to see what they looked like!”
“Dude. Paul. Gross.”
Then silence, for a moment.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“Opening a tampon. I want to see what they look like too.”
“Oh. This is the weirdest conversation of my life.”
“Why is there a string on it?” he asked, sounding baffled.
I waited.
“Wait… is that how they… pull it…? Oh, gross!”
“You better not have thrown it!”
“Sure did. Didn’t see where it went. That’s just wrong. Reason number 6,432 I’m glad I’m a dude.”
“That’s a lot of reasons.”
No answer.
“What are you doing?”
“Brushin’ ma teef,” he said as if he had a mouthful.
“You bastard,” I growled.
I heard him spit into the sink. “My teeth feel clean. And a whole lot gayer.”
The lock clicked. The door opened. Shirtless Vince stood before me, droplets of water on his chest and shoulders. I stared as a single drop of water clung to the bar through his nipple. I wanted to taste it. My pajama pants were slung low on his waist. He had that totally hot V thing that buff guys have going on right above the waistband. But I could also see the bruising on his back and sides, spreading more than it’d been at the hospital. The colors were also darker—blues, greens, and purples. His skin was rife with darkening colors.
“I’m minty fresh,” he told me with a smile.
“How… how about that,” I muttered. “Does it hurt?” I pointed at the bruises.
He turned slowly so I could see how far they spread on his back, along with shallow scrapes and gashes along his shoulder blades where he’d landed on the ground. “Fuck,” I said succinctly. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t your fault,” he said. “I should have watched where I was going.” He took a step forward and started to crowd me. I took a step back, flustered yet again.
“I made up the guest room for you,” I said, looking at my feet, double chin be damned. I pointed to the door behind me. Then I said the rest as I’d planned. It came out in a rush. “I have to go to work in the morning, but you can stay here if you want and I can take you home when I get off work, it’s no big deal, okay with me.”
He hesitated. “You sure?”