A World of New (A Shade of Vampire, #26)(32)

“I prefer ‘once,’” I said.

His grin returned. “Okay, Grace. Once.”

His mood seemed significantly lighter as he continued washing himself. I wondered if even his stomach pains were subsiding, because he wasn’t wincing quite so much. Perhaps he was just distracted by our conversation.

“Why did you insist on doing this yourself today?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, I can’t fit my exercise in,” he replied, wiping his face with a washcloth. “The least I can do is try to shift my own weight… That, and I suppose… something of you has rubbed off on me.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked up. “I’m not sure if it’s been intentional on your part or not,” he replied, “but the message I’ve gleaned from you is to make the most of what I’ve got, while I’ve got it. When I feel beaten down, strive harder… or whatever.” He smirked self-deprecatingly. “Or maybe I’m just spewing crap.”

My eyes widened. It had not been a conscious decision on my part to try to impart any kind of message to Josh. But it was true that in setting up his gym and taking him there every day to work his upper body, I’d wanted him to make the best use of whatever he found himself with. Wasn’t that what we all ought to do in life, appreciate what we had and make the most of it, rather than hankering after what was out of reach? At least, that was what my parents had always told me.

“Well, that’s, uh… that’s good crap,” I said.

He chuckled. “It is.”

We both fell into silence for a while before he spoke again. “What do you plan to do with your life when you grow older?”

“Hm…” I fingered the edge of the tub. “More of the same, I suppose…” Not that there really was anything “of the same” here in The Shade. There was always something different or unexpected going on. “I’m a member of the island’s League and I intend to remain so for as long as I live… at least, that’s what I think.”

I wished that I could have returned his question and received his answer. Though if my speculation that he was once a hunter was correct, he would have already decided what he’d wanted to be.

Neither Shayla nor I had mentioned this to him yet—this wild guess. I didn’t see any reason not to mention it to him now.

“You know,” I began tentatively, “I have a theory about you.”

He laid down his sponge and cocked his head to one side. “What’s that?

“I have a feeling that you used to be a member of the IBSI.”

His brows practically touched his hairline. “Seriously? Why would you think that?”

I explained my reasoning, however shaky it might be. By the time I was done he didn’t have much to say to counter it.

“I suppose anything’s possible,” he said.

He fell silent for a while as he mulled over the idea.

Once it looked like he’d finished cleaning his body, I noticed that his hair looked a bit greasy. Although I was still hesitant to offer such personal help, I suggested casually, “Your hair looks like it might need a wash.”

He reached into his hair and felt it. “Yeah. You’re right.”

He sank down into the bathtub, submerging his head. I looked toward the cabinet beneath the sink, where the shampoo was kept. Leaving the bath side for a moment, I pulled out a bottle of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner before returning to my seat.

“Would you let me?” I asked, holding up the bottle. “I like messing with hair.”

He rolled his eyes. “All right.”

He sat up again and turned himself so that his back was facing me. I ran my fingers through his hair and soaked his scalp with shampoo. It was actually true that I liked messing with hair—since I was a kid, I’d always wanted to play around with my mom’s long hair, and I’d mess with Hazel’s and Victoria’s too whenever they came round for a sleepover. Perhaps if I hadn’t joined the League and I’d lived in a world that was far different from our own, I might have even trained to become a hairdresser…

I finished lathering his hair before instructing him to dip into the water again. I rinsed it off, giving his scalp a massage at the same time. When he sat up, although he still looked awfully pale, he appeared quite relaxed. Certainly less tense than when I’d first come in here.

As I examined him now, it looked like there was only one more thing to be done. His beard. It was still looking rather unkempt, and if we were to stay in a hotel, we needed to attract as little attention as possible. It was about time for him to have a shave, anyway. Feeling bolder now that he’d allowed me to wash his hair, I moved to the shelves and took down a new razor and a jar of shaving foam. I placed them on the edge of the bathtub.

To my surprise, he chuckled. “Okay,” he said, reaching for them. “I can take a hint. Drop the caveman look.”

I smirked. “I do think you’ll look better without it.”

As he started opening the jar of cream, I quickly fetched a handheld mirror and held it up to him. As he began to shave, I watched closely. His beard slowly came off. I marveled at the transformation, and once he was finished, I was practically gaping.

Wow. What a difference a shave can make. He looked so much younger. His features were also more pronounced—his jawline was harder, stronger than I had thought beneath his hair, and his cheekbones were also sharper. I spotted a faint dimple at the end of his chin, which was actually kind of cute. His lips also looked different: wider, fuller.