Wallbanger(38)

which was the first one I grabbed.

Even in a crisis Simon took 2.5 seconds to look at my nearly naked body. Okay, I might have taken 3.2 to look at his.

Then we both snapped into action. He ran into the bathroom like a man on a mission, and I could hear him knocking around. Clive hissed and

ran out, straight into the kitchen. Realizing it was just as wet in there, he leapt across the room in an acrobatic fit and landed high atop the fridge. I

started to run to the bathroom to help and col ided with Simon as he ran to the kitchen. Undeterred, he slid across the floor and opened the doors

under the sink. He began throwing my cleaning supplies al over the floor, and I assumed he was trying to get at the shut-off valve. I tried not to

notice the way the back of his boxers clung to his buns. I tried so very hard. He was covered in water as wel now, and just then his feet slipped out

from under him, crashing him to the floor.

“Ow,” he said from under the sink, his legs now splayed out across my wet kitchen floor. Then he rol ed over. He was soaking wet and a tad bit

glorious.

“Get over here and help me. I can’t get this one turned off,” he requested over the rushing water and the cat meowing.

Remembering that I was only wearing a towel, I gingerly knelt next to him and tried to avoid looking at his body—his wet, long, lean body that

was dangerously close to my own. One more random jet of water straight into my eyebal was enough to pul me from my stupor, and I renewed my

focus.

“What do you want me to do?” I yel ed.



“Do you have a wrench?”

“Yes!”

“Can you go get it?”

“Sure!”

“Why are you yel ing?”

“I don’t know!” I sat there, trying to see underneath the sink.

“Wel , go get it, for God’s sake!”

“Right. Right!” I yel ed and ran for the hal closet.

When I came back, I slipped a little on the wet tile and slid into his side.

“Here!” I yel ed and thrust the wrench under the sink.

I watched him work, his face hidden. His arms strained, and I saw how strong he real y was. I watched in amazement as his stomach hardened

and revealed six little packs. Oops, make that eight. And then the V showed up. Hel o, V…

He grunted and groaned and as he strained to turn off the valve, his entire body caught up in the struggle. I watched as he fought the Battle of

the Valve and was final y triumphant. I also kept a close eye on those green plaid boxers, which when wet, clung to him like a second skin. Skin that

was wet, and probably warm, and—

“Got it!”

“Hurray!” I clapped as the water final y stopped. He let out one last groan, which sounded oddly familiar, and relaxed. I watched as he slid out

from under the sink.

He lay next to me on the floor, soaked and in his boxers.

I sat next to him, soaked and in a towel.

Clive sat on top of the fridge, soaked and angry.

Clive continued to yel /meow, and we continued to stare at each other, breathing heavily—Simon because of his battle and I…because of his

battle. Clive final y jumped down from the fridge to the counter and skidded across in the puddle. He hit my radio, bounced off, and fel to the floor.

Loud Marvin Gaye poured into the wet kitchen as Clive shook himself and ran for the living room.

“Let’s get it on…” Marvin sang it like he meant it, and Simon and I looked at each other, our faces stained crimson red.

“Are you kidding me?” I said.

“Is this for real?” he said, and we both started to laugh—at the chaos, at the ridiculousness, at the sheer insanity of what had just happened and

the fact that we were now lying half naked in my kitchen, covered in water, listening to a song that encouraged us to, in fact, “get it on,” and laughing

our asses off.

I final y straightened up, wiping tears from my eyes. He sat up next to me stil holding his stomach.

“This is like a bad episode of Three’s Company.” He chuckled.

“No kidding. I hope someone cal ed Mr. Furley.” I giggled, drawing my towel tighter around me.

“Shal we get this cleaned up?” he asked, standing.

I noticed that his boxers, and anything that might be contained inside, were now at eye level. Settle, Caroline.

“Yes, I suppose we should.” I laughed again as he held out his hand to help me up. I couldn’t gain any traction, so I hung on to his hands, my feet

slipping al over the floor.

“This is never going to work,” he muttered and swooped me up. He carried me into the living room and set me down. “Watch it there. Snoopy is

drooping a little,” he noted, gesturing to the part covering the girls.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I sassed, pul ing things tighter.