Page 58 of Ghosted
“I’ll think about it,” I grumble noncommittally. We spend a moment awkwardly shuffling about, both finding seemingly random things to do. Straightening the cocktail napkins, rechecking the extension cord for the DJ, and whatever other menial tasks I can get my hands on. We never argue, so this is uncharted territory.
“You know I just want what’s best for you, right?” Aunt C asks over her shoulder.
I sigh, nodding my head. “I know. I’m just frustrated because I’m also trying to figure out how to do my job without getting my feelings tangled up.”
Aunt C chuckles and puts her hands on her slender hips. “Oh, darling. It’s far too late for that, don’t you think?”
My cheeks warm, and I decide against answering her.
“Go. I know you have plenty more to do today before you get all dolled up. I can hold down the fort here. Something’s still not right with this table,” she mumbles, rubbing a finger across her chin and staring at it like an artist might stare at a stubbornly blank canvas.
I make my escape before she can change her mind, scurrying past Lenore and my mother, who are setting up a few outdoor tables as well. I wave my goodbyes, calling over my shoulder that I’ll be back soon. I round the building to the alleyway where my car is parked and hop in, ready to be alone for more than five minutes. My little introvert heart can’t handle being around people all day. It’s too draining. My battery definitely needs a listen-to-music-alone-in-the-car recharge.
I turn the key and listen to my car rumble to life, feeling more than ready to have this day behind me.
THIRTY-THREE
I’m hunchedover in arguably one of the most unattractive positions, trying to shave the back of my knee in the shower. I always nick myself back there, but I’ve found contorting my body to bring my hand as close to parallel with the underside of my leg tends to avoid bloodshed. I press the razor to my skin and hear, “Is it wet in here or is it just me?” I gasp in shock, and the razor skids sideways, cutting through my skin like butter. I hiss at the nick and pull back the shower curtain a bit to glare at him.
“What? What happened?” Dean asks, the playful smirk falling.
I stick my leg out, a thin red stream running down my calf, and wiggle the razor in answer.
He winces and says, “Sorry. I thought this would be a sexy surprise. Not a bloody one.”
I close the curtain again and stick my bleeding leg under the spray of the shower, grumbling, “It’s alright. I know youweren’t trying to get me to cut myself.” Deciding that the back of my knee can be a forest for all I care, I hang my razor on the wall mount and begin rinsing the deep conditioning treatment out of my hair. At least it stopped bleeding already.
“How was your nap?” I ask, twisting my hair into a thick rope to wring the water out of it.
“Good. I’m noticing I don’t have to spend as long there to recharge. I saw you last this morning, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, turning off the shower. “That’s nice. You can spend most of your time here, then. Has to be less boring.” I swipe my towel off the hook next to the shower, pulling it through a crack in the curtain. I know he’s seen everything, but I’m not quite ready for casual nudity. Which makes me wonder…
“Hey. When you said you watch me, even when I don’t know you’re there, does that mean you’ve, like… seen me naked when I didn’t know it?”
Dean looks at me appalled. “No. I did not creep on you without your consent. Whenever it looked like you were going to get naked or, um—do something you wouldn’t want company for, I would leave. Or at least go further away in your apartment.” He hitches a thumb in the direction of my kitchen and living room.
“But you knew where my vibrator was,” I point out.
He quirks a smile and nods. “Yeah, that’s when I decided I should probably go find something else to entertain me.”
I purse my lips and nod curtly in response, glad at least that he didn’t stay to enjoy the show. Or… I don’t know. Maybe I’m a little disappointed. But that sounds crazy, so let’s go with relieved.
“Okay well, I need to get ready for tonight. So gofind something else to do,” I say, making a shooing motion towards the door. If he stays and I’m naked, I won’t make it to the ball.
He leans in, feathering a staticky kiss against my brow, andpoof!he’s gone. Then, I get out my arch-nemesis: the blow dryer. I try to avoid using it whenever I can because I can’t stand the noise or the way it makes me sweat. But today I’m planning on curling my hair in long, loose waves, so it’s a necessity. I turn it on, grimly resolved to get the job done.
“Motherfuckingfuck,”I grit out, arms contorted towards the middle of my back where the zipper on my dress is stuck. I scrabble my fingers closer, wishing that I had taken Aunt Clarissa up on her offer to join her for yoga on Saturdays. Angry sweat collects under my arms and between my thighs, and I’m about one second away from Hulking out of this dress and wearing sweats.
“Dean!” I call, mourning the big reveal moment I had been envisioning for weeks now. He’s never seen me fully dressed up before, and I wanted to have it be this movie moment. Instead, he’ll get me sweaty and half-zipped, with the zipper caught on my shape-wear.
He pops in front of me and does a double-take. “Wow, you look…”
“Haggard?” I supply, blowing a rogue tendril of hair out of my face.
“Gorgeous,” he counters.
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. I’m not even done yet.”
