Page 28 of Catching Feeling

There are boundaries for a reason, even if I want to say fuck the boundaries right now.

“Chill. Your dick is not going to fall off, Reese. Just go wash it off, and it should stop. It has mint in it. Probably why it’s tingling.”

Relief floods his face. “Are you sure? Stop fucking laughing, Viv. This shit is not funny. My dick is important.”

“Sure it is. I mean, not a hundred percent, but I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” I smirk.

This is a tad bit satisfying. And I don’t mean the fact that he chose my body wash to use but because he’s actually panicked that his dick is going to fall off.

He sprints out of my room, and I hear the bathroom door slam shut, so I go back to my task of finishing my murder board until I hear him walk back in.

When I turn to face him, he’s still shirtless, go figure. But now, he’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants. The black band of his Calvins peeks out the top, and he’s using a towel to dry his hair.

“I’m assuming you were able to save your dick?” I ask.

He grins and shakes his head, water droplets spraying me in the process. I step back and hold my hands up. “Okay, okay, stop! God, you’re annoying.”

“Yes, my dick is perfectly safe. Wanna check for me?”

“You wish.” I turn back to the board, hoping he gets the hint and leaves, but of course, I couldn’t get that lucky. “You never answered why you were showering in my bathroom and not yours. Boundaries, remember?”

“My shower isn’t draining right, so I have to use yours until the plumber can come out.”

Joy. More sharing. Just what I need right now.

“Ummmm…” he starts from behind me, then walks over and stands next to me, eyeing the board in front of us. “Are you plotting my murder?”

“Burst into my room again without knocking and yes, I am. I told you I know how to hide a body. Did you think I was lying?” I drawl with a shit-eating smile.

His grin broadens. “God, you’re vicious. I love it. Tell me what it is about you, Viv?”

“That I’m the one girl who doesn’t throw herself at your feet?”

Ignoring my response, he reaches out to touch one of the sticky notes, and I slap his hand away. “No touching. You know, now that I’m thinking about it, Reese makes for the perfect name for the first victim in my book.”

The words are out of my mouth before I really even think about them, and he turns to look at me. My eyes drop to his lips and the small beads of water still clinging to the top. I can smell the lavender minty scent of my body wash mixed with his scent, fresh citrus and pure man.

“What? You’re writing a book? That’s fucking amazing, Viv,” Reese says. He looks at me for a moment, then back at the board. “You did all this?”

Shit.

I didn’t mean to say that out loud. It just kind of… came out. Apparently, I have a problem with being brutally honest around this guy, and that is dangerous. For so many reasons. He keeps bulldozing in when my guard is down, and I end up telling him things I normally wouldn’t tell anyone but my best friends. It’s becoming a pattern that I don’t like.

I clear my throat as I tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear. “Uh, yeah. I am. But I don’t really want anyone else to know, so keep that information to yourself. Only Hallie and Eli know.”

“Always with the secrets, Viv. No worries, I’m a vault, don’t worry about it. But… why keep it secret? It’s fucking incredible. You should want to tell everyone.”

“I don’t know,” I say, pausing to contemplate if I want to continue this conversation with him. Even though we live together now, he’s basically a stranger to me. But he’s staring at me with a look that makes me feel strangely… confident.

“I don’t know. It’s not nearly finished, and I just want to keep it to myself for a little longer, I guess. It’s nice to have something that’s just mine. Less pressure when no one expects anything.”

Reese nods, walking down the length of the board, his eyes scanning all of the pinned pictures, papers, and sticky notes. “I’m amazed. I mean, the detail that you’ve put into this. It’s fucking incredible. Aren’t you majoring in, like, English or something? Clearly, you should change it to criminal justice. Crime Junkie has nothing on you.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“It’s some type of murder mystery?” he asks, nodding to the crime scene photo that I downloaded off a stock photo site for inspiration, less the actual dead body, of course.

I nod. “Yeah. It’s called… Haunted Homicide. It’s about a detective that can see the victims’ ghosts and uses that paranormal sight to help solve their murders.”

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