Kiss the Sky (Addicted #3)(39)

I purse my lips. He can’t see that much detail through the glass. “You’re a pig.”

He tosses his toothbrush back in a cabinet underneath the sink and leans against the porcelain rim. “And Lo calls me Mr. Hollywood. Do you all have a thing with nicknames?”

“Loren also told you to eat shit in the same breath, so I wouldn’t gloat.”

His grin never falters, in fact it widens. “You forget that every curse word, every pig and insult is another notch for ratings. So keep ‘em coming, honey.”

He prefers to provoke Loren since he’s fishing for drama. He’d like for me to curse him out too. Maybe I should seal my lips shut and let him deal with the silence. We could still have great ratings without being nasty. But it’s harder for me to be nice than mean. However awful that seems.

Scott steps closer to the showers, and my eyes tighten as I glare so hard. I continue to hide my breasts with my arm, but everything else is exposed. I could reach for the towel, but surrendering is not an avenue I’ll take. I’ll look foolish and scared, which’ll sit like dead-weight in my stomach.

He slowly steps out of his pants.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He cocks his head. “Taking a shower, Rose.” He motions to the available “stall” beside mine—the one so close that we could practically high-five. “Do I need your permission?”

“Yes.” I straighten my shoulders. “And you’re not getting it.”

He laughs. “I was just being a dick when I asked. I don’t really care about your permission.”

I don’t really care about your permission. His words gnaw a hole in my brain. I hated him before. I think I loathe him now.

He removes his white shirt, and my eyes linger on his abs for point-two seconds. They’re okay… Defined, but more “I lift too many weights and drink a shit ton of protein shakes” sculpted than the natural “this is my body. I’m just f*cking hot” look. Which all three guys in the house possess in spades (even if they all do work out together).

My loyalties lie far, far away from Scott Van Wright—and even a simple compliment about his body feels like kissing a pig who shit in my yard.

I catch a glimpse of his red briefs.

This is not okay.

Fuck it. Where’s my towel?

I go to reach over the glass door to retrieve the cloth off the hook, but Scott snatches it—and it slings right out of my grip.

You have got to be— “That’s my towel.” This is not okay.

“Now it’s mine.” Scott acts modest all of a sudden, tying it around his waist so he can shed his underwear.

I fume. Outwardly. Steam may as well be blowing out of my ears. “What no peep show this morning?”

“We’ll save that for the bedroom,” he says. And winks. He winks at me. My insides shrivel in repulsion. I think he just poisoned my uterus.

He takes off his briefs, all while keeping the towel snug around his waist, and then he kicks his underwear to the side. His eyes pin to me, a smile playing at his lips. Yes, he is naked underneath that towel.

And yes, I am very much naked in the shower right now.

I’m not quite sure things could get much worse.

“Sorry that phone call took so long, darling.” Connor’s voice emanates from the doorway. “The partners wouldn’t stop talking about finger paints.”

A sudden wave of relief crashes into me. My teammate has arrived to tag me out of this disaster. Somehow he saw or heard Scott in the bathroom and came to retrieve me. Maybe he finally realized that I can finish his project for him.

Thank you. I’m out of here.

And then Connor says, “My shampoo, is it in there?”

That relief is squashed by anxiety. I understand now. He wants to come into the shower. He plans to beat Scott this round and push our relationship to a place where it should already be. I try to pump my chest with more confidence, but he still wants to hop in here with me. And in order for Connor to win, I can’t be shocked by his arrival. I can’t push him away like he’s less than my boyfriend. I need to be as comfortable around him as I should be. I can’t say “wait” like I did downstairs. I have to let him keep going. Full speed ahead. No f*cking brakes. Grow some bigger balls, Rose Calloway.

Yes, I think I can do this.

I scan the shelf with an arrangement of female and male hair products. I find his black bottle that costs more than my conditioner and body wash put together. “Your precious shampoo is here,” I say in my usual biting tone.

“You shouldn’t insult my shampoo. I’ve been told my hair is my second best feature.” He ignores the fact that Scott still stands outside the second shower, his hand on the glass door, frozen as he watches.

I only notice Scott from the corner of my eye. He waits for one of us to acknowledge his presence. And I refuse to entertain his snide comments.

Even though, really, it’s more than rude to be bathing in a communal shower together. I know Lily has already done it…though in her bathing suit. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Daisy has too with her new boyfriend (that no one has met yet).

I want to not care and just “go with the flow”—I’ve never really been like that.

Connor quickly unbuttons his shirt and tosses it aside, now only in black slacks. As he nears my shower, he’s clearly taller than Scott.