“You’ll have plenty of time to read while you’re here. C’mon.” With loose hands on my hips, he pushes me along. I look back in the doorway one last time and mouth ‘I love you.’
Oh, screw sleep. I have to explore that room once I’m unstinky.
He squeezes my hips to stop me from walking and pushes me left into a bedroom.
It’s beautiful.
I feel the concealed amusement coming off Nox in waves. And I get it. He thinks I’m going to hate this room. Well, screw you, buddy, because I so don’t. I know I may not look like a girly-girl but the truth is, I don’t really mind that stuff; I just can’t be bothered with it normally. I’m usually so busy with work, that all I want to do when I get home is curl up on the sofa with a good book.
Reading trumps anything.
On occasion, I like to listen to music of my mp3 player, but I don’t have it with me, so I guess reading is all I have. And I’ll take it. Gladly.
Walking forward, I face-plant on my bed with a huge sigh. Rolling over, I stare up at the top of the soft pink four-poster bed. The window has been left open, no doubt to try to get rid of the musty, unoccupied smell, and I watch as the wind moves the sheer draping.
I really do like this bed.
Sitting up, I look around at my new room. It’s simple. It’s tidy. It’s similar to my old room at what I like to call the ‘normal’ house, which is, of course, the house we lived in before dad moved us into the mansion formerly known as Alcatraz two-point-oh.
There is an open door that I can see leads to a sparkling bathroom with a shower. Next to the bed is a white wooden night stand; there’s a small walk-in closet and a smallish white dresser. Which suddenly reminds me, “I like the room. Thank you. But what am I going to do for clothes?”
Nox watches me through furrowed brows. His silence feels more like an interrogation. I hate that he has that effect on me, with nothing but a glance. Shit. I lower my gaze and hear him step into the room; the sound of drawer scraping open makes me look up.
The dresser is full of clothes. Knowing Nox for the short time I have, I’d say he’s efficient enough to have those clothes in the exact size I need them. Looking him in the eye, I blurt out, “How long have you known I’d be kept here?”
I wait for an answer, but of course, the answer to my question is yet another curious glance in my direction.
Man, this guy is giving me the creeps.
Clearing my throat, I stand. “Okay, well, I’m going to shower now, so if you wouldn’t mind-” I wait for him to get the hint and leave.
But he doesn’t.
I try again. “Showering will commence in approximately one minute, Nox.” And he still doesn’t move. I’m suddenly nervous. Wide-eyed, I lean closer and hiss, “You are not coming into the bathroom with me while I shower!”
Thankfully, I notice his lip twitch reaffirming that he is not a droid and indeed human. He steps forward a second before he stops himself and takes two steps back towards the door, watching me all the while. Once he’s out of my room, I breathe a sigh of relief. He booms from down the hall, “Ten minutes, darlin’.” My nose scrunches and I step toward the bathroom. Just as I shut the door, I hear him shout again, “Or I’m comin’ in after you.”
Turning on the hot water, I sigh.
I gotta get out of here.
***
Coming out of the shower, I wrap the towel around my body as tightly as I can. Walking out of the bathroom, I stare at the door and wonder just how long I would have to myself before the door was thrown open. I decide to do an experiment. I call this experiment Captive Throwdown.
Walking over to the door, I close it, taking my time so as to not make a sound. Once it’s shut, I open the dresser drawers, take out a pair of simple white underwear and a matching plain bra, remove the tags, then step into the panties.
As soon as I reach down to pull the panties up my legs, the door swings open. I see a scowling Nox, but when he sees the position I’m in, his scowl disappears to be replaced with a slightly gaping mouth.
I’m mortified. But the look on his face tells me he’s possibly just as mortified. Maybe more. And I certainly got the results of my experiment. Forcing down my flush to no avail, I clear my throat and check my watch. Nodding with pursed lips, I say clinically, “Forty seconds, give or take. Not bad, Nox.”
Wide-eyed with a furrowed brow, he turns on his heel and walks out of my room, the open door gaping. Not a second later, he returns and closes the door almost to the latch, leaving only an inch open. And I smirk. Pulling my panties all the way up from under the towel, I chuckle.
I guess I won that round.