Coldhearted Boss(19)
I have no idea how long he’s been here, but it seems like he didn’t just arrive today if he’s already been showering and reading.
Maybe he’s the one who cleaned the place up. Compared to the bunkhouses, this cabin is practically sterile, in a good way. The dark wood floors are shiny as if they’ve been mopped recently. The beds have linens on them that seem relatively new. There’s no mold or ambiguous green sludge collecting in the bathroom.
Overall, I decide this cabin will do just fine as I start to empty my duffle bag into the empty bottom drawer of the dresser. It takes me all of two seconds and then I sit back on my heels wondering what I’m supposed to do now. It’s nearly 8:30 PM. There’s no point in wandering back out into the woods. The guys are probably all settling into their bunks, and Jeremy’s probably on the phone with Khloe swearing he misses her already. My roommate will probably be here soon and then we can meet and I’ll have to look him in the eye knowing what color underwear he’s wearing.
My neck grows warm.
I’m being ridiculous.
Still, maybe an early-morning introduction is best, rather than a late-night one. I decide to get ready for bed, but it’s proving kind of difficult now that the sun has fully set. My eyes have adjusted slowly, but it’s too dark now and I fumble around quite a bit until I manage to turn on the electric lantern I spotted on the desk earlier. It produces the same amount of light a small lamp would and makes it easy to navigate around the cabin as I quickly brush my teeth and change into my sweatpants and t-shirt.
I wouldn’t mind a quick shower, but I don’t want to chance it. What if my roommate arrives while I’m bathing? What if he assumes I’m a dude and waltzes right into the bathroom to go pee without even knocking first? No. Nope. I’ll have to wait until the morning.
As it is, without A/C, the cabin is a little stuffy. I pry open the windows to let in some air, but Texas is Texas, even in spring, and there isn’t a breeze cool enough to bring this cabin down to a temperature conducive to heavy sweatpants. Unfortunately, they were the only thing I could find to sleep in that would cover my legs. I couldn’t exactly pack a pair of tiny sleeping shorts. My main objective is to fly under my roommate’s radar, not flash him my butt cheeks.
After I wash my face with cool water, I turn the lantern off, drop my baseball hat on the dresser beside my roommate’s, shake out my hair (Ah! Freedom!), and climb the ladder up to the top bunk. There’s a wave of relief as I lie down on top of the cool sheet and stare up at the ceiling.
I did it.
I survived the first day.
Kind of.
Tomorrow is the real first day.
This was nothing, really.
Still, I’m here, and it’s an accomplishment for a girl who’s never spent a night outside of Oak Dale in her entire life. I’m embarrassed to admit there’s a tight ball of tension in my stomach I’ve been trying to ignore: homesickness. Ridiculous, I know. I’m too old to feel homesick. Besides, there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t call home—there’s no cell reception out here. I’ve been trying to pick up a signal since I first arrived, and now, as I try to call my mom’s phone yet again, it won’t go through.
I wish I could distract myself, but I didn’t bring a book and the light is off anyway. I try to close my eyes and tell myself to go to sleep, but I’m too hot and I’m not tired and I’m still on pins and needles waiting for my roommate to arrive. Surely he won’t stay out much later.
That’s when I hear the cabin door creak and my heart leaps into my throat.
He’s here!
Or a bear is sneaking in.
Either way, I play dead, eyes closed and everything.
In an ideal world, he’d dive straight into his bunk and start to snore.
No such luck.
Light suddenly filters past my closed eyelids and I realize he’s turned the lantern back on, though it must be on a different setting than I used because it’s a softer glow, barely enough to let him see what he’s doing.
I hear him over by the dresser and I peel one eye open just enough to see the top two inches of his dark brown hair as he reaches into the drawer for something. BRIEFS. BLACK BRIEFS.
The drawer closes and he steps back and I jerk toward the wall, using some of my pillow to conceal my face and hair. I know he notices because I hear a faint chuckle before the bathroom door closes, taking the lantern light with it. Water cuts on and the sound drowns out the loud hum of the cicadas outside.
He’s showering and I have to listen, which feels oddly intimate: the sound of the stream as it hits different parts of his body. He could be a monster with two heads and five hands for all I know, but that’s not the way I imagine him in there. Mr. Black Briefs.
The water cuts off a few minutes later and I’m under the sheet now with it tugged right up to my nose so I can peer over the top without my whole face showing. It’s absolutely absurd, this game I’m playing, but it seems too late to turn back now. Besides, I’ve already decided I’ll introduce myself in the morning. Right now, I just want to get a quick peek at him and put a face to the man who will be sleeping directly underneath me for the foreseeable future.
And I do get a peek at him. All of him.
Well, save for the low-slung shorts he apparently sleeps in. The rest of him, though? Bare. His broad, tanned chest. The smooth, rigid muscles composing his shoulders and arms. The impossibly sexy rows of abs and the sprinkle of hair leading down. Dark hair, enough to confirm he’s a man but not so much that I’m worried he’s part werewolf. He’s tall and trim and I’m so hung up on that body—the sharp difference between my curves and his seemingly endless firmness—that it takes me a moment to drag my gaze up to his face.